CHAPTER ONE
CALLA
I stoodunder the awning of Obsidian Hospital, watching droplets streak down the glass doors while my heart performed gymnastics it hadn't attempted in five years. The building was nothing like the crumbling teaching hospital where I'd completed my residency back in Chicago.
I told myself this was good. New city, new hospital, new start.
My reflection stared back at me from the glass. My deep red hair was pulled into a low bun and my light brown eyes, which I took after my mother, twinkled with eagerness. The white coat I'd ironed this morning sat crisp on my shoulders.
I looked good and confident.
I looked like someone who had her life together.
"Dr. Karras?"
I turned. A young woman in scrubs stood behind me, holding a tablet and wearing a cheerful, innocent smile.
"I'm Jenna, Dr. Patel's assistant. She asked me to meet you and get you started with orientation." She gestured toward the doors. "Ready?"
"Yes."
She guided me to the lobby with marbled floors, vaulted ceilings, and a reception desk that curved at the corner. Everything was pristine and polished.
Jenna walked fast, her sneakers squeaking against the floor as she rattled off information I should have been absorbing. Badge office on the second floor. Locker assignments in the basement. Cafeteria open until midnight, though the food quality dropped significantly after eight.
I nodded at appropriate intervals, letting the words sink while my mind circled to one fact I'd been avoiding since accepting this position.
Cassian worked here.
My ex-husband. The man I'd built a life with and then watched it crumble since neither of us knew how to compromise when our dreams were involved. I'd seen his name on the department roster three weeks ago, buried in an orientation packet that arrived at my apartment.
Dr. Cassian Reed, Attending Surgeon, Trauma Division, Team Leader.
I almost called to decline the position. Almost. But Obsidian had the best trauma program on the West Coast. I'd spent five years building my career just to get here.
Running away would mean admitting the separation still affected me.
"Badge photo station is just through here," Jenna said, pushing a door markedADMINISTRATIVE SERVICES."Fair warning, the lighting is terrible. Everyone looks like they're auditioning for a crime documentary."
A smile escaped my lips, giving her a small nod. "Fine."
The photo came out exactly as predicted—washed out, my smile barely visible. But that wasn’t important. Nobody would bother looking at it anyway.
Jenna led me through the rest of orientation cheerfully, walking me through my locker assignment in the attending physician wing and explaining the temporary access codes for the electronic medical records system. Then, she handed me a laminated map of the hospital, which I pretended to study while looking around the busy lounge.
After nearly an hour, we reached the trauma department on the fourth floor.
"Dr. Patel should be finishing up rounds," Jenna said, checking her tablet. "Her office is at the end of the hall. She's expecting you."
"Thank you."
Jenna lingered for a moment, as if waiting for something more. Yet I offered nothing aside from a polite handshake. Her smile slightly faltered but she recovered almost instantly.
"Of course. Welcome to Obsidian, Dr. Karras."
She disappeared back toward the elevators, leaving me alone in a hallway filled with the familiar scent of antiseptic.
I found Dr. Patel's office. The door was open, revealing a woman in her fifties with silver-streaked hair and reading glasses perched on her nose. She looked up when I knocked.
