Page 91 of Doctored Vows

“Then how about you stop fucking around and help us save this little girl’s life.”

Dr. Eiland is as shocked as I am, but since fear is the one emotion that can triumph over greed, she barks orders at the nurses and doctors surrounding us until Yulia’s heart is returned to its normal rhythm and her life is saved.

“Thank you,” Mr. Petrovitch praises me, mistakenly believing I deserve the credit for restoring the life in his daughter’s eyes.

I don’t.

It is the man I am already severely indebted to—the same man whose murky dark eyes and lazy smile popped into my head when I realized my private pledge to pay him back could be delayed by at least three years.

“We still have a long way to go.” I guide Lev out of the cubicle and to the side of the nurses’ station, where I am stunned to see Nurse Kelley working behind the desk. She hasn’t been seen in the pediatric ward since our heated conversation. I assumed that was because Maksim had… Nope. My heart still can’t put him and murder in one sentence.

“Dr. Hoffman?” Mr. Petrovitch dips his head, bringing his wet eyes to align with mine. “Is my little girl going to be okay?”

Even knowing I shouldn’t give him false hope, I can’t help but nod. “To return Yulia’s heart to its normal rhythm, we had to shock her.”

“Which made her better?” He struggles to speak in English but understands it is easier for me to explain his daughter’s condition.

“Yes. But her improvement will only be temporary if we don’t unearth the cause of her recent spike in illnesses.”

When he appears seconds from collapsing, I move him to a line of hard plastic chairs. Once he is seated, I give him a few moments to settle his panic before explaining the tests Yulia will need to endure to expose the cause of her sudden cardiac episode and the possible procedure needed to correct it.

“Bypass surgery?” His cheeks whiten as tears well in his eyes.

“That’s the worst-case scenario. It could be as simple as administrating anti-arrhythmic medication, but we won’t know until further tests are conducted.”

“Okay.” He takes a moment to sort through the facts before asking, “Will they be done here?”

“Um…” I wish I could give him a straightforward answer, but that is outside my means. Only a week and a half ago, I was barely getting by after paying for my grandfather’s medication. Yulia’s condition could end up being more costly than the end-of-life care of a stage four lung disease patient and over the amount I’ve been stashing away for three years to buy my grandfather a better ECOM machine. “I will try my best to have her admitted at Myasnikov Private, but?—”

Again, he cuts me off with praise I don’t deserve.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

After ensuring Yulia is stable, I join Eva in the locker room for an impromptu patient debrief.

“That was…” Eva shakes out her arms and legs before breathing out heavily. “Whoa!” She peers at me wide-eyed and in awe. “We kicked ass today.”

I laugh, loosening some of the heaviness on my chest. “We did.”

The endorphins released when you save a patient’s life are dispersed in a number of ways. Some interns cry, others holler and shout, and there are a handful who work off the excess adrenaline in a sexual manner—usually in the very room we’re standing in.

Eva appears to be an intern who’d happily tick off all three items on the list. Her eyes are brimming with wetness, she’s hollered a handful of times, and although there is no one to help her with the last item on the list, she thrusts her hips enough times to announce she needs a cigarette before she twists a recently opened pack my way.

I shake my head. I’ve not yet rolled through the emotions I’m anticipating to hammer into me at any moment because my stomach is too twisted up in knots to claim the victory we fought hard to achieve.

Yulia’s blood workup showed no signs of the troponin T protein most heart disease patients have, which means it is unlikely her heart sustained any damage during her medical episode, but the cardiologist they brought in to conduct the tests is the best in the country.

I don’t see his fees being close to that of the savings of an intern’s salary.

My offer looks set to become extremely costly, but I’d be a liar if I said I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I were offered to go back and overturn my pledge.

I wait for Eva to leave the locker room, before digging my cell phone out of my purse and dialing a number I usually only ring at the end of my shift.

It takes Ano a few seconds to connect our call. “Hey. Don’t tell me you’re finishing early for a change.”

“I wish,” I lie. My job is exhausting but rewarding—most notably when the whispered praise comes from a patient whose life is just beginning. Yulia was on the cusp of death only hours ago, and now she is smiling and asking what day it is. She became an instant fan of Donut Holes Thursday. “I need a favor.”

Ano’s pulse quickens so fast I hear its thuds in his voice when he asks, “Are you all right?”

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