CHAPTER 1: The Unusual Day :)

«3rd Person POV»

± AGUIRRE GENERAL HOSPITAL ±

Aram sent her goodbye message to her friends, she then quickly slipped her phone back into her pocket with a faint smile forming on her lips.

She couldn't help it—just thinking about how seriously her friends were taking her so-called "revenge" was enough to amuse her.

Scaring them was always fun, especially since they had already experienced firsthand how she got back at them for all their relentless teasing.

Before she could dwell on the thought any longer, a nurse suddenly burst into her office, breathless and in a hurry.

"Doc, we have a gunshot patient at the ER!" the nurse announced urgently.

The moment Aram heard those words, the amusement in her eyes vanished. Her expression turned serious, her focus shifting immediately to the emergency at hand.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her coat and rushed towards the Emergency Room.

As she arrived, the sight of a young man lying on the stretcher came into view, blood soaking through his shirt. The gunshot wound was on his lower abdomen, and his breathing was labored. The nurses and medical staff were already working to stabilize him.

Aram quickly took charge. "Vitals?" she asked, slipping on her surgical gloves.

"BP is dropping, Doc. Pulse is weak," one of the nurses responded.

She assessed the wound, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. "Prepare the OR. We need to operate him right now."

"Prepare the OR. We need to operate on him right now," she commanded with urgency in her voice. Her colleagues didn't waste a second—nurses rushed to ready the surgical instruments while the anesthesiologist moved to prepare the patient.

"Have you talked to his guardian? He needs an operation right away." she asked

"He's with his mother, Doc. She's outside."

She rushed outside and approached the woman, who was sitting on the bench, sobbing anxiously. "I'm Dr. Aram Aguirre. Your son has a gunshot wound in his abdomen. He’s losing blood fast, and we need to perform surgery immediately. Without it, he won’t make it. Do we have your consent, ma'am?"

"Doc, please save him. We were heading to the supermarket when a gunman suddenly appeared and shot him. He's a good son—I can't understand why this happened to him." The woman clasped her hands together, crying while pleading.

Aram wasted no time. "Let's move him now!" she ordered.

Inside the operating room, Aram moved with precision and urgency. The overhead surgical lights illuminated the sterile field as she and her team worked to save the young man's life.

"Scalpel," she ordered, extending her hand. The scrub nurse placed the instrument in her palm without hesitation. With a precise incision, she exposed the damaged area. Blood pooled inside the abdominal cavity, dark and relentless.

"Suction," she said firmly. A fellow surgeon maneuvered the suction device, clearing the blood to reveal the source of the hemorrhage.

"There’s a perforation in the intestine," Aram announced as she scanned the injury. "We need to remove the bullet first. Forceps."

She carefully reached into the wound with steady fingers, despite the high stakes. The bullet was lodged near a major blood vessel. One wrong move, and the bleeding could become uncontrollable.

"He's losing too much blood," the anesthesiologist warned, keeping a close eye on the monitors. The heart rate was dropping.

"Increase fluids. We need more suction here," Aram responded, her voice calm but firm. "Clamp," she added, reaching for the hemostat to control the bleeding vessels.

After a few tense seconds, she firmly grasped the bullet with the forceps and carefully extracted it. The metallic object clattered as soon as she dropped it into the steel tray.

"Damage assessment," she instructed, scanning the surrounding tissue. "We’ll need sutures—prepare a 3-0 Vicryl."

As the assistant handed her the needle holder, she began stitching the torn intestinal wall with delicate but confident movements.

The operating room was filled with the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, the occasional murmur of the team, and the sharp clatter of instruments being exchanged.

"Bleeding is under control," she finally announced after hours of meticulous repair. A collective breath of relief filled the room.

"Let's close him up. We did it," Aram said, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.

One of the assisting surgeons glanced at her and nodded. "That was incredible, Doc. Once again, you’ve saved another life."

She exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment. "He fought, and we gave him a chance. Now, we wait for him to recover."

Well, if it weren’t for her skills, the patient wouldn’t have made it out of danger.

At just 30 years old, Dr. Aram Khatte Aguirre had already achieved what many could only dream of. She was a legend in the medical world—a name that commanded respect in operating rooms.

She graduated from Harvard University and topped the US Medical Licensing Exam for Surgery. She went on to become one of the youngest neurosurgeons in history. Now, in her third year of training in cardio-thoracic surgery, she is mastering a second highly complex field.

In the operating room, her hands moved with a precision that felt almost inhuman, as if she could see the very threads of life itself. Her surgical techniques were legendary. She could perform delicate brain and heart surgeries with such accuracy that even seasoned specialists watched in awe.

************

★ SanGC Mall ★

Ayesha was riding in an elevator at SanGC Mall when her phone beeped.

She immediately fished it out of her pocket to check the notification. It was a message from her best friend, Gaille Sinclair.

“ Babe, where are you?” — Gaille

“At the mall” — Ayesha

“ Who's with you?” — Gaille

“ I'm alone,” — Ayesha

“ My God, Ayesha, you can’t go to the mall alone! You're a celebrity, for God's sake! What if a crowd swarms you!?” — Gaille

“ Don't worry, babe. I’m wearing a disguise.” — Ayesha replied then she slipped back her phone into her pocket when the elevator opened.

The bustling crowd inside SCS Mall made Ayesha Lorain uneasy. It felt unusually packed for a Tuesday, and she instantly regretted deciding to go shopping today.

Ayesha is one of the most sought-after celebrities in the country. She is a renowned, multi-awarded actress and a top supermodel.

So, it was only natural for her to wear a disguise in a crowded place like this mall, which stands as one of the biggest malls in Asia.

Wearing a hoodie and oversized sunglasses, she thought her disguise would keep her safe. But she underestimated her fans’ ability to recognize her.

"You look familiar."

"Ayesha! You're Ayesha Lorain, right?" a random girl approached out of nowhere.

"It really is Ayesha Lorain! She's here!" shouted by the other girl.

‘What a jinx. Her friend jinx her, damn'it!’

Her heart sank. Before she could react, a wave of people turned toward her, excitement and frenzy lighting up their faces.

She darted through the maze of aisles and escalators, her sneakers pounding against the tiled floor. Good thing she didn't wear her stiletto or it would be hard for her to run this fast.

The screams of her fans grew louder, echoing through the mall. She didn’t dare look back. Her only goal was to escape.

By the time she reached the parking lot, Ayesha was breathless. Her chest heaved as she scanned the rows of cars. Her driver, Mang Rey, had parked the SUV nearby.

She spotted a sleek black SUV that looked like her and didn’t hesitate. She threw the door open, jumped inside, and slammed it shut.

"Mang Rey, hurry! They’re chasing me!" she said, her voice trembling as she stared at the crowd approaching in the distance.

Ayesha didn't know that the man in the driver’s seat wasn’t Mang Rey.

It was the CEO of the Sandoval Group of Companies who was momentarily stunned the moment Ayesha entered his car.

He was Stephen Calid Sandoval, a renowned bachelor and business tycoon who owned a multi-million-dollar conglomerate.

He had been reviewing contracts on his tablet when the car door suddenly flew open, and a disheveled woman barged in. She was clearly panicking and barking orders like she owned the vehicle.

Stephen's brow furrowed in irritation. He wasn’t used to being interrupted, let alone by someone so brazen.

"Get out," he said coldly, his deep voice filled with authority.

But Ayesha didn’t even glance at him. Seems like up to this moment she still hasn’t noticed him and appears not to have heard what he said.

Her eyes were glued to the horde of people spilling into the parking area. "Mang Rey, let’s go! Please, hurry before they catch up to us!"

Stephen's sharp gaze shifted to the approaching crowd. He frowned, realizing the chaos would only escalate if they reached his car.

With a low growl of annoyance, he started the engine and drove off, maneuvering expertly out of the parking lot.

******************

Mang Rey, who had been waiting in the correct SUV just a few cars away, saw the whole thing. His jaw dropped as he watched her boss, ma'am Ayesha, climb into a stranger’s car.

"Ma’am! Ma’am Ayesha!" he shouted, rushing out of his vehicle. But before he could reach her, the car sped away.

He froze in disbelief, his heart pounding. "Help! Help! Si Ma’am Ayesha was kidnapped!"

A few bystanders turned toward him, their faces filled with alarm.

Videos of the incident spread like wildfire on social media. Within minutes, headlines read:

"BREAKING News: Ayesha Lorain Allegedly Kidnapped!"

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