Page 46 of Hunter

If I’m being honest with myself, I never really wanted to take over my father’s practice or become a family doctor. What I love,what makes me feel alive, is the rush and adrenaline of trauma. That’s what my specialty was—trauma surgery. But after my father died, I felt a deep, heavy responsibility to keep this place alive. So, I pushed my true desires aside, quit my job, and came here. I’m not sure if it’s the trauma I faced, but returning after weeks of absence is stirring up all these feelings I’ve buried for so long—the resentment, the confusion, the guilt.

A tear slips down my cheek before I even realize I’m crying. Why am I crying? Is it because I’m finally admitting I don’t want to keep living a life for my dad and not for myself? Or is it because everything in my life feels like it’s crumbling around me? Or maybe it’s because I’m afraid of disappointing my father?

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut.

You’ll disappoint your father.

The voice in my head screams at me. But will I? Will I really disappoint him? I take a shaky breath, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. My dad always told me to follow my heart, to trust it. He knew where my heart was leading me.

A memory tugs at the edges of my mind, pulling me back. The night my sister told me my dad left the clinic in my name. Mom and I were so destroyed, we couldn’t even get out of bed for the reading of the will. Jenny had to go by herself.

The door creaks open, and Jenny’s silhouette slowly approaches. Mom and I are sitting together, both lost in our own grief. It has been a hell of a few days. I still can’t believe Dad’s gone. He was fine that morning. We had our usual conversation on the way to work, but by the afternoon, I got a call from Mom saying he’d had a heart attack. By the time the rescue team arrived, it was too late. It felt like the ground opened beneath me, swallowing me whole. I was frozen, unable to move.

I took the first flight back to Miami to help Jenny plan the memorial and the funeral. The least I could do was that. But when I saw Dad’s body, it was like my mind just shut down. Everything—everything—came crashing in. I was walking through the motions, getting on the plane, coming home, but when I saw him…it was like reality slapped me awake.

And I couldn’t be there for Mom. I couldn’t even be there for myself. Jenny had to take the lead, had to be the strong one. She had to step up into the older sister role. Normally, that’s me. I’m the strong one, the one everyone counts on. But not with this. I can’t process it. I couldn’t manage.

All that keeps repeating in my head is: He died. He’s gone.

The one person in this world who always defended me, who was always there for me, is gone. No more hugs that make me feel loved, no more superhero movie marathons, no more random phone calls just to talk about nonsense. My person, my best friend, is gone.

I feel like a piece of me has been ripped out of my chest.

“Papi left the clinic to you, Sophia. His wish was for you to take over for him.”

I rear back in shock. This is the second time today I’ve felt like my world is crumbling. Dad wants me to take over as a primary care doctor. I want to fight it, say no, and just go back to New York. My mouth opens to protest, but a resounding “okay” slips out instead. If this is what he wanted, who am I to taint his decision? I’m already licensed to practice in Florida, there wouldn't be an issue for me to take over.

As much as my conscience wants to attack me, to make me feel guilty, I know deep down, my dad wouldn’t have wanted me to feel this way. He wasn’t the type to hold grudges or to be disappointed. If he truly wanted me to take over, he would’ve understood if I said no. Being here, chained to this place, tryingto become my father’s successor—it’s never where I thought I’d be at this stage of my life.

I exhale a long breath. This is all messed up. I wish he was here to tell me what to do, to at least offer me some advice that would make this decision easier, something that would help me feel less guilty for what I’m planning to do.

Turning on my computer, I dive into work, trying to focus on something other than the chaos swirling in my mind. I haven’t been here in months, not since the kidnapping, my recovery, and then the trip with Maxim. I need to go through the schedule for next week and review the patients’ last notes. I need to know when they were last seen and what Dr. Jimenez wrote.

Dr. Carlos Jimenez has been working alongside my dad for years. When Dad started this practice, Carlos came on board just a year later. He has been an essential part of the team, seeing patients at the hospital three times a week then here for our busiest days. He’s an amazing doctor, and when Maxim told me Maria, my medical assistant, had coordinated everything so he could take over in my absence, I felt a wave of relief. Carlos knows this practice, and these patients, inside and out.

An idea begins to form in my mind. I just need to find my dad’s will—and the deed to this place.

“What part of waiting for me in the clinic did you not understand, Sophia?” Maxim’s voice echoes across the living room, cutting through the bathroom where I’m standing under the shower. I knew he’d be upset. I didn’t answer his messagesor follow his order, but did he really expect me to fall in line just like that? I’m not some soldier.

The door slams open, and I freeze. The sound cuts through me sharply. My hands tremble, and the shampoo bottle slips from my grip, crashing to the floor. My heart races in my chest, and for a split second, I’m back in that place—the cold, dark room where the air never felt right.

You’re not there anymore, Sophia. It’s okay. You’re safe.

I repeat the words in my mind, but the panic rises quickly. I feel the old fear creeping up, tightening around my chest. I can barely catch my breath.

Breathe. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re free.

I close my eyes, fighting the feeling that’s rising inside me, but it’s not enough. I can’t shake it. My body starts to tremble, and I know I’m on the edge of something I can’t control.

Then, I feel him—his arms wrapping around me from behind, pulling me close, and I relax just slightly. His warmth is grounding, steadying me. For a moment, I just lean into him, trying to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Maxim says, his voice low, filled with guilt. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” I can feel the sincerity in his words, but it’s not his anger that has thrown me off. It’s the sound of that door slamming open—like I’m back in a place I can’t forget.

“It’s not you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “It’s…the door. When it slammed, it—it reminded me of…”

Maxim’s grip tightens, and he pulls me closer, his chest against my back. I feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice soft. “I never want to make you feel like that. Never.”

I nod, tears stinging my eyes, but I don’t want to cry. Not now. Not with him here, trying so hard to make this right. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, and I let that be my anchor.

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