Chapter 1

Unexpected Reunion

Jade
The hospital doors slide open with a quiet whoosh, and I step into the pristine, bustling lobby of St. Mark’s Medical Center. The gleaming marble floors reflect the afternoon light pouring through towering windows, and the air hums with purpose. Doctors in crisp white coats stride past, nurses push carts with practiced ease, and patients linger in waiting areas, their expressions ranging from hope to worry.

I clutch the leather strap of my bag like a lifeline, forcing myself to take a deep, calming breath. “You’ve got this, Jade,” I whisper under my breath, the words as much a plea as a mantra. My reflection in the glass doors shows a woman projecting confidence: a sharp black blazer over a deep-green blouse that flatters my figure, paired with sleek heels that make me feel powerful despite the knots twisting in my stomach.

This is it—my big break. After years of relentless effort, late nights, and sacrifices, I’ve landed a position consulting on cutting-edge medical technology at one of the top hospitals in the country. It’s not just a job; it’s a chance to prove myself, to take a step closer to the career I’ve always dreamed of.

The receptionist behind the counter offers a polite smile as I approach.

“Jade Monroe,” I say, infusing my voice with as much composure as I can muster. “I’m the new Medical Technology Consultant.”

“Welcome, Ms. Monroe.” She types swiftly, her nails clicking against the keyboard. “You’re scheduled to meet with Dr. Carter in the cardiology department. Let me print your visitor badge.”

The name Carter sends a faint ripple of familiarity through me, but I push it aside, chalking it up to nerves. Moments later, she hands me the badge. I pin it to my blazer, the weight of it feeling oddly significant.

I follow the receptionist’s directions, winding my way through gleaming hallways. Each step amplifies my anticipation and unease. The cardiology department is quieter, the hum of monitors and muffled voices replacing the busy energy of the lobby. A nurse directs me to the conference room, and as I approach, my heartbeat quickens.

The room is modern and immaculate, with a long polished table and sleek chairs. Several people are seated, their quiet murmurs filling the space. But I barely notice them because standing at the head of the table is a man who makes time freeze.

Dr. Ethan Carter.

For a moment, I can’t breathe. The world narrows to the sight of him—broad shoulders filling out a tailored suit jacket, dark hair neatly styled, and piercing blue eyes that seem to take in everything at once. His boyish charm, the kind that once made my teenage heart race, has matured into an aura of authority that’s impossible to ignore.

Memories crash over me like waves. Summers at the lake house, the warmth of his easy laughter as he shared stories with my father, the way he always brought me souvenirs from his travels. And that one fleeting moment—the glance he gave me when he caught me staring too long.

My father’s best friend.

My forbidden teenage crush.

But now, standing here, he’s no longer a distant figure from my past. He’s my boss.

Ethan glances up, his sharp gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. For a fraction of a second, something flickers in his expression—recognition, maybe—but it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by a mask of professionalism.

“Ms. Monroe, I presume?” His voice is smooth, deep, and maddeningly composed.

I force a smile, though my pulse is a drumbeat in my ears. “Yes, Dr. Carter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His hand extends toward me, and I hesitate for the briefest moment before taking it. The warmth of his palm sends a jolt through me, as if the years between us have collapsed into this single, charged moment.

“Welcome to St. Mark’s,” he says, his tone measured. “We’re looking forward to your contributions.”

I nod, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Thank you. I’m excited to get started.”

As the meeting begins, I focus on the presentation with laser precision—or at least, I try to. Ethan’s presence is magnetic, and I’m painfully aware of every movement he makes. He speaks with authority, his words precise and deliberate, commanding the room with an ease that leaves no doubt about why he’s in charge.

Every so often, his gaze flickers to me, and I can’t help but wonder: does he remember?

When the meeting ends, the others file out, leaving me gathering my notes. Ethan lingers, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he watches me.

“You seem familiar,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

I glance up, my stomach twisting. “Do I?”

His brow furrows slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to place me. “Have we met before?”

I could lie, but there’s no point. “Yes,” I admit, my tone light. “I’m Jade Monroe. My father is James Monroe.”

The name lands between us like a dropped pin, sharp and undeniable.

Ethan straightens, his expression softening. “James Monroe? Of course. You’re—” He pauses, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’ve grown up.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “It’s been a while.”

“That’s an understatement.” He chuckles softly, the sound stirring something deep within me—a pang of nostalgia, a flicker of something more.

For a moment, the professionalism between us cracks, replaced by something warmer, more personal. But it doesn’t last. Ethan clears his throat, the walls between us snapping back into place.

“Well, I look forward to seeing your work,” he says briskly. “If you need anything, my assistant can arrange a meeting.”

I nod, clutching my notes tightly. “Of course. Thank you, Dr. Carter.”

“Ethan,” he corrects, his voice lower now.

I blink, startled.

“Call me Ethan,” he says, his eyes holding mine for a beat too long.

My heart stutters. “Okay…Ethan.”

He nods once, then turns and walks out, his steps measured and deliberate.

As the door clicks shut, I sink into my chair, my pulse racing. The dynamic between us has shifted, the air charged with an energy I can’t quite name.

He remembered me. I know he did.

But what does that flicker in his eyes mean? And why does the thought of working with him—of seeing him every day—fill me with equal parts excitement and dread?

All I know is that this job just became a lot more complicated.