Mrs. Ashford turned to her quietly.
"We can reschedule for tomorrow, if you wish," she said. "I would understand."
Dr. Whittemore smiled calmly.
"Oh, Mrs. Ashford—he will have to bear with me. I'm rescheduling nothing."
Mrs. Ashford studied her, then smiled.
"I like you."
Dr Whittemore returned the smile. "I'll take that as a good start."
They began up the stairs together.
"I hope this goes well," Mrs. Ashford said after a moment. "I've done everything—hired everyone I know. I've brought the best specialists money can buy into this house," she said. "Psychiatrists, nurses, therapists… none of them stay. You're my last hope. No more doctors are willing to come after hearing about his… attitude."
"You don't need to worry," Whittemore replied evenly. "I promise you—everything will be fine."
At the end of the corridor, a young maid approached them, dark hair braided neatly down her back, a small trash bin in hand.
"Good afternoon," the maid said softly.
"Good afternoon," Whittemore answered, her voice warm.
"What is he doing" asked Mrs. Ashford to the maid "grand ma is helping Mr. Ashford with his lunch" said the maid "ok go on Esther" said Ashford they reached the room at the end of the corridor and Mrs. Ashford opened the door "come in" Whittemore paused at the door, took a slow breath, and briefly touched the small necklace at her chest then entered
entering the room Whittemore looked around the vast, clean muscular room, it was dim and the curtains were down, though luxurious the room looked boring she thought to herself. Then came the voice she heard earlier again.
"I thought I was clear," he said coldly. "No more nurses or doctors, dear mother."
Whittemore turned toward the far side of the room. A small dining table was there. A man sat in a wheelchair beside it, tall and broad-shouldered despite the paralysis that held most of his body still. His black hair was long, uncombed, falling into his eyes. A full beard shadowed his face as he stared down at an untouched plate.
Beside him sat an older, thick-set woman with her hair in a neat bun, a maid's apron tied carefully around her waist. She smiled warmly at their entrance.
Mrs. Ashford ignored her son's remark entirely.
"Meet Donathan Ashford," she said calmly, "my second son." "Nathan—this is Dr Samantha Whittemore, also a registered nurse and physiotherapist, she is the CMO of Rada Hospital."
Donathan's jaw tightened. "I don't care who she is."
Whittemore arched a brow.
The maid glanced at her with interest. "It's nice to meet you, Dr Whittemore."
"And you too,,," Whittemore "maria just call me maria" said the lady with a smile "I will also love it if you call me Samantha, please" said Samantha looking at Mrs. Ashford too. Maria raised "let me bring something for Dr Whittemore" said maria "Samantha, and that won't be n.." said Samantha "I don't take no for an answer" said maria and left.
Samantha approached Donathan, who hadn't bothered to lift his head to acknowledge her. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Ashford. I look forward to working with you," she said, extending her hand. He gripped his fork tightly, his jaw clenched in anger, sharply raised his head to give her a dead back off stare only to be knocked off guard by what his eyes met, both were taken back and for a moment they got lost in each other
Samantha noticed that Donathan had strikingly captivating eyes, a rarity she had never encountered before, despite having seen many attractive men. His thick, sharp eyebrows, his lips. Every line of his face and every small expression had a natural, almost dangerous charm that kept her staring. Even his anger seemed to make him more attractive, turning him into a picture of wild beauty she couldn't look away from.
Donathan thought She had a captivating beauty that was truly unique and felt almost unearthly. Her charm was undeniable, with a gentle magnetism that was hard to ignore. Her eyes held a certain magic, and the way her gaze lingered quietly drew him in, making it impossible for him to look away. Her gaze seemed to cast a spell, making everything in him feel more vibrant and alive. He felt an unusual sensation in his chest that he disliked. His expression grew more intense with anger as he swallowed hard and looked away. "I don't need anyone," he replied coldly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ashford," Samantha said, voice steady, unwavering. "But you're not the one to decide if you need anyone or not. I am going… nowhere."
Donathan's eyes narrowed, cold and piercing. According to his memory, no one—especially no doctor—had ever dared speak to him like that, or look at him so directly. He hated it.
Samantha didn't flinch under his stare. She turned away, deliberately ignoring the heat of his gaze. And also to avoid getting lost in his eyes she had to be professional and avoid locking eyes with him for long.
Downstairs, a good-looking man of medium height entered. Dressed in a nurse uniform of a different pink shade that accentuated his fit physique, he carried two large bags. Esther was arranging some flowers when her eyes fell upon the most captivating man she had ever seen. She froze, breath catching. He was effortlessly captivating and he was walking towards her.
"Hello there," he greeted with a charming, flirty smile, causing her to blush instantly. "I'm Luka, here to assist Nurse Samantha. Do you mind showing me where she is?"
"I'm Esther," she said, still blushing. "No problem. Come this way."
Back in the room, Samantha was providing Mrs. Ashford Donathan with a new schedule and meal plans. "Since I'm in charge now, Mr. Ashford, things will be done my way, and many changes are coming. I heard you dislike light and have been in this dark room for almost a year…" Samantha began
"Don't touch the curtains," he growled, low and threatening.
"You need light," Samantha continued, stepping closer. "The morning sun, especially. This darkness is affecting your health. From now on, these curtains will be open."