Chapter 8
As the plane lifted off, Alexandra stared out the window, watching the city lights shrink into the distance. For a sec- ond, she thought she saw 18–year–old Hendrix smiling at her from the clouds.
Then, a sharp pain shot through her ribs, snapping her out of it. She bit down hard, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth.
“Miss, are you alright?”
The man sitting next to her put his magazine down, noticing the sweat on her forehead.
“I’m fine,” she replied lightly, “Just a little motion sickness.”
Yrian Ximenez gave her a second glance. Something about her seemed off.
She was wrapped in a camel–colored windbreaker that looked too big for her. There was a faint ring mark on her left hand, and her right wrist looked twisted weirdly.
What stood out most? Even though the cabin was a warm 26°C, she was shaking nonstop.
“I’m a doctor,” Yrian said, handing her a tissue. “You don’t look fine.”
When Alexandra took it, he spotted bruises on the inside of her wrist–clear signs of being tied up by a professional.
That was when he figured out she wasn’t a victim of regular domestic violence.
“Thanks.” Alexandra held the tissue, but she didn’t use it.
She couldn’t leave behind any signs now.
But once the plane hit the ground, Hendrix wouldn’t be able to track her down, no matter how hard he tried.
Out of nowhere, a sharp pain ripped through her stomach. Everything around her went dim, and blood started drip- ping from her nose. Without thinking, she touched it and felt the warm stickiness.
Yrian snapped off his seatbelt. “Flight attendant! We need emergency medical assistance!”
Through her fading vision, Alexandra saw him frantically unbuttoning her collar.
The overhead lights blinked. Yrian’s shirt was soaked with sweat. A woman, whom he’d never seen before, was losing her life. Something deep down told him he couldn’t just stand by and watch.
A flight attendant leaned in and whispered, “Doctor, should we land early?”
“Don’t take me to the hospital…” Blood mixed with foam spilled from Alexandra’s lips as she struggled to speak. “Please…”
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Chapter 8
Yrian froze, then slowly nodded in a trance. “I’ve got a private sanatorium outside the city.”
288 Vouchers
Alexandra detected the smell of disinfectant when she came to.
Soft sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains and spilled across the bed sheet. She stared blankly at the ceiling, un- sure whether she was awake or still dreaming. A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “You’re finally up.”
She jerked her head toward the sound and locked eyes with someone composed.
Yrian was holding a medical record. When he noticed she was awake, he shut it and said calmly, “You had some in- ternal bleeding and passed out mid–flight. I handled the treatment. How are you feeling now?”
Instinctively, Alexandra touched her stomach. The pain wasn’t as sharp anymore. She said hoarsely, “…Thank you.”
He nodded and passed her a cup of warm water. “I’m Yrian Ximenez, a doctor. This place is my private sanatorium. You’re safe here.”
The warmth of the cup seeped into her palms as she slowly ran her fingers over the edge. She stared down for a while before saying softly, “… Call me Linda.”
She ended up staying there.
Yrian came by daily to check her condition, but aside from necessary medical inquiries, he never questioned her about anything else.
Then one day, during a bandage change, the nurse knocked over the tray by accident. The crash of metal tools hitting the ground made Alexandra flinch hard and curl up reflexively.
Yrian froze, his hand mid–reach.
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