Page 2 of Dr. Billionaire's Fake Marriage

The rest of the staff are out of the room, and the door is locked from inside. The two security men for this wing are also trying to open the door.

I rub my eyes, hoping this is a bad dream I will wake up from. But It isn’t a bad dream. One of my doctors is in danger of being cut in the throat. What a nice headline for the media.

“How did this happen?” I ask Joseph when he walks up to me.

"Camile was assigned to him a few weeks ago," he says. "The patient thinks he is going to die, and that he needs a quick treatment."

Camile looks calmer than I thought she would be. She raises her hands while the patient holds a knife to her neck.

“He thinks killing her will make him better?” I ask, trying to find out how to get into the patient’s head.

"No," Joseph replies, "he just wants to hold her for a ransom. He tells us to find a quick treatment, or he will kill Camile. He says he needs to get to his daughter."

I shake my head. The nurse who called me earlier walks to my side and asks if she should call the police. "No," I say, "don't call the police just yet."

I can't decide if I am not calling the police because Camile is being held at knifepoint, or I think it is best if we don't act impulsively. Jannie shows me the CCTV cameras in the room.

He has destroyed all the cameras around him, and it gives us no leverage. We cannot threaten to show his daughter what he is doing presently.

"Is there something he wants to do? I mean, why does he want to live so badly?" The nurse, Jannie, looks at me as if I had said the most foolish thing ever.

I sigh, realizing how foolish my words sound. I mean, who doesn't want to live?

Maybe my words aren't as foolish as I think because Jannie responds, "he said he has to be there for his five-year-old daughter. He can't die because he doesn't want her to be taken by social services."

I nod, agreeing with the man. We all need a reason to live. One of the security guards has a phone connected to the room.

It is how the patient in the room with Camile has been communicating with everyone outside the room.

The chief security walks up to me. “We can unlock the door from outside,” he says, bringing out the extra card key he holds. “We just need you to tell us what to do.”

"No," I repeat, "the man is acting on impulse right now; going in will make him paranoid, and it will only take him a second to slit Camile's throat."

I am mad now, wanting to ask the security guard standing beside me how a patient could walk into the hospital with a knife in their pocket.

"We need to make him come out to meet us," I tell them. Jannie still looks at me as if I don't know what I am saying.

I am sure the rest of the staff has tried their own strategy, telling him he doesn't want to do it, but the bloodshot eyes I see when I look at this man make me realize he may do the unthinkable.

I put my hand in my pocket as I stand beside Joseph. “Make sure words don’t get out of the hospital.”

I don’t want the press lurking around the hospital and asking questions. I don’t want my hospital to be the news headline, and I sure don’t want a bad reputation for it.

I look at Joseph again and order, “Ensure that Mother hears no word about this.”

It means that everything that happens here today must stay on premises. Joseph nods and strolls away.

He knows what to do, even without me saying it. I am determined to ensure that Mother doesn't hear a thing. She'd make a big deal out of it, more concerned for Camile's safety than anything else.

I take the phone from the security guard and call the line in the room where Camile is being held. The patient looks at me through the transparent glass demarcation as he picks up the call.

"What will you tell me?" he asks, carving a smirk and putting the phone on hands-free. "Are you also going to tell me my daughter doesn't want me to do this?"

"No," I answer. "I will not tell you that bullshit, and I am not going to tell you not to kill her."

I can hear everyone in the hallway gasp. Jannie raises her eyebrows at me, probably wondering how cold-hearted I can be.

Even though they may think I am cold-hearted, I don't have the time to tell them I am playing games with his mind.

---