Trapped By The President's Dangerous Secret

Ana stared at the medical chart in her hands. The name printed at the top was Arthur Vance. Below that, the entire medical history section was completely blank. No previous surgeries. No current medications. Not even a listed primary care physician. A heavy knot of annoyance formed in her stomach. She pressed the button on the internal intercom sitting on her desk. "Send the patient in." Before she could even lift her finger from the plastic button, the heavy wooden door of the VIP consultation room was shoved open. It hit the wall with a dull, violent thud. Two massive men wearing dark suits and earpieces stepped into the room. Their eyes darted to the corners of the ceiling, scanning the blind spots of the security cameras. Ana's pulse spiked. She pushed her chair back and stood up, her jaw tightening. "Excuse me, you are violating HIPAA privacy laws. Get out of my clinic." A tall man in a dark, custom-tailored trench coat walked right past the bodyguards. Auguste stopped in the center of the room. His cold, piercing gaze locked onto Ana's face. The air in the room instantly felt thinner, pressing down on her chest and making it hard to breathe. He walked over to the examination table but didn't sit down. He just stood there, his eyes scanning the medical equipment with absolute disdain. Ana forced her heart rate to slow down. She picked up her stethoscope from the desk. "Take off your coat and put on the hospital gown." Auguste completely ignored her instruction. "Which security firm handles this hospital's network? The perimeter feels remarkably porous for a private facility." Ana froze, her fingers gripping the metal of the stethoscope until her knuckles turned white. She felt a hot flush of anger crawl up her neck. He was dodging the issue of his hidden illness. "Avoiding medical treatment will only lead to permanent damage to your prostate function, Mr. Vance." A dangerous, dark glint flashed in Auguste's eyes. He took a slow step forward, his tall frame leaning slightly toward her. The bodyguard on the left immediately stepped forward, his body angling slightly as he placed a flat hand against his suit lapel, physically inserting himself between Ana and Auguste in a clear, professional warning posture. Auguste raised his right hand, making a tiny, sharp gesture with his fingers. The bodyguard snapped back to his original position instantly. Ana's stomach dropped at the sudden movement, but she refused to back down. She grabbed a plastic urine collection cup from the counter and shoved it toward him. Auguste looked down at the plastic cup. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a brutal, mocking smirk. He reached out, took the cup from her hand, and dropped it straight into the biohazard waste bin. Ana slammed her palm against the desk. "If you refuse to cooperate, leave my clinic right now." Auguste opened his mouth to speak, but a tiny red light suddenly flashed inside his right ear. The color drained from his face. His lazy arrogance vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, lethal alertness. The two bodyguards lunged forward, using their massive bodies to form a tactical shield between Auguste and Ana. Auguste turned around and strode toward the door. He didn't offer a single word of explanation. Ana ran around the desk, reaching out to grab the sleeve of his trench coat. "You still have to pay the consultation fee!" The bodyguard shoved her shoulder hard. The force sent Ana stumbling backward, her heels catching on the linoleum floor. Auguste disappeared down the hallway. The heavy door slammed shut in her face. Ana rubbed her aching shoulder, staring at the empty room. A bitter taste of humiliation coated the back of her throat. She grabbed the blank medical chart and hurled it into the trash can. Her first independent VIP consultation was a complete failure. Suddenly, a high-pitched alarm blared from the hospital's overhead PA system. The sound vibrated in her teeth. "Code Trauma. Level One. Emergency Department."