My stomach tightens. “What do you mean?”
She pulls a file from the stack, sliding it across the desk. It’s filled with notes—printouts of messages I recognize too well. My heart drops.
“These have been coming in,” she says quietly. “We’ve spoken to security and they believe these messages were sent by Jason Whitmore.”
His name alone is enough to make my skin crawl. I glance at the papers but can’t bring myself to touch them.
Mrs. Meyers folds her hands on the desk, her expression tight. “We’ve already spoken about this before, Mia. The restraining order clearly isn’t enough.”
I feel my stomach twist. “He hasn’t actually done anything. The messages are just... threats.”
“If that’s true, why do you look terrified right now?” she asks bluntly.
I look down at my hand, where I’m gripping the desk tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
She continues to watch me. Is this the end? Are they going to fire me? I want to beg, but what will I even ask of them? I’ll be too selfish if I leave my patients in harm’s way.
“The hospital board has reviewed this situation,” she says. “They’ve decided we can’t ignore the risk he poses anymore. We’re bringing in professional security to protect you.”
My head snaps up. Wait, what? I thought they were going to kick me out. This is the last thing I expected.
“Professional security?” My voice feels distant, like it’s coming from someone else. “That is unnecessary. He’s just trying to scare me.”
“And it’s working,” Mrs. Meyers replies. “Mia, you’ve moved three times in five years. You’ve done everything you can, but this isn’t sustainable. The hospital is covering the cost. Please, let us help.” She slides a business card toward me. “Mars security–they come highly recommended. I stare at the card, the words swimming in front of me. My first instinct is to shove it back at her, tell her I’ve got it under control. But I know better.
“So…you’re not kicking me out?”
She blinks, looking genuinely startled. “Why would we do that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, gripping the arms of the chair. “Because he’s a liability? Because you’re worried about the hospital’s reputation?”
Her face softens. “No one’s blaming you for this. You’re an incredible nurse. The patients adore you, the staff respects you—you’re not the problem. Jason is. Mia,” she continues gently, “we want you to be safe. And more importantly, we want your daughters to be safe.”
The mention of Emma and Ella feels like a gut punch. My hands curl into fists on my lap and I take a shaky breath.
“You’ve done everything you can on your own,” Mrs. Meyers says. “You’ve moved, you’ve filed a restraining order, but this isn’t sustainable. You can’t fight this battle alone anymore.”
“What if hiring a security team makes things worse?” My voice cracks, but I keep going. “What if it just provokes him?”
Mrs. Meyers shakes her head. “If you wait for him to make the first move, it’ll already be too late. We’re not doing this to make things harder on you—we’re doing this because we care. And because it’s the right thing to do.”
Her words settle over me, heavy but undeniable. I take the card, the edges digging into my palm, and nod.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll call them.”
Mrs. Meyers offers a small smile, one that looks almost relieved. “Good. The sooner, the better.”
I take the card and leave her office, walking down the hallway on autopilot. By the time I reach the break room, I’m gripping the card so tightly, it’s crumpled at the edges.
I took a closer look at it. Mars Security. Bold letters, a professional design, and a phone number below.
The hallway stretches out ahead of me, buzzing with the familiar chaos of a hospital shift. But the noise feels muted, distant, as if I’m moving through a bubble where everything is muffled and sharp at the same time.
Jason always finds a way. Rules, laws, boundaries—they mean nothing to him. Not when he’s fixated on something.
The thought makes my skin crawl.
I tell myself to breathe, but my chest feels like it’s caving in.
