Chapter 1: Clap For Yourself
All over the news, they were talking about her: the mysterious doctor whose hands worked magic. Rarely did she emerge from an intervention bearing bad news. She appeared at every prestigious event when invited, honored promises during ceremonial speeches, made the largest donations, and responded to every crisis. But whenever the event turned into a party, a celebration for people to enjoy the fruits of their hard work, she was nowhere to be found.
She was popular, yet she despised fame. All she wanted was to work, endlessly and relentlessly, striving to be the best at whatever she undertook. And everyone had noticed her rare beauty, magnetic charisma, and commanding, seductive voice. It did not take long before whispers began about why someone so extraordinary remained unpaired. Such a woman, this should be IMPOSSIBLE.
Dr. Niran Williams was the head of a prestigious hospital. Her latest strategic move had overshadowed every global institute in the region, drawing the attention of international investors. She proved that she was not only the fortunate heir to her mother’s legacy but also a brilliant strategist and an exceptional doctor. She was the woman on everyone’s lips.
But while colleagues and staff speculated about her private life, she wasted no time. Every decision she had made since the age of seventeen served a single purpose: Never be a loser, no matter what it takes.
In her office, she signed patient files in a single stroke, without hesitation. Around her, the hospital hummed like a living machine, one she alone seemed capable of pausing.
She moved with effortless grace, even under strain. Her crisp white coat hugged her form, leaving the faint scent of her perfume lingering, a quiet declaration of presence. Yet inside, her body protested. Her head throbbed, nerves stretched taut, begging for reprieve she refused to grant. Even as her vision blurred, she read, signed, and commanded. Urgency coursed through her veins as vital as the rhythm of her pulse.
Across the desk, her colleague and close friend, Dr. Emilio, watched silently. He did not linger on her beauty; he noticed the fatigue etched into her expression, the shadows beneath her eyes, and the faint lines of stress around her mouth. Makeup masked much of her weariness, but Emilio had learned to see what others missed.
“Are you all right, Williams?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied, handing him the files. “Here are the documents for your interventions. On your way out, please call my secretary.”
Her tone left no room for argument. Years of friendship had taught Emilio not to press. When she closed a door, it remained closed. He gathered the files, pausing briefly to inhale the faint aroma of coffee from cups scattered across her desk.
Nearby, the secretary’s office buzzed with muted activity. Malaya, Dr. Williams’ new secretary, glanced up as Dr Emilio approached.
“Hey, Malaya,” he said, leaning slightly on her desk with a warm smile.
“How may I help you, Dr. Emilio?”
“Help me see you more often,” he teased softly, the concern behind his smile clear. He knew Dr. Williams was a workaholic, and he wondered if this young intern could keep up with the pace.
“And I wanted to tell you, Dr. Williams wants to see you,” he added finally.
“Oh no! And you’re telling me only now?”
Malaya rose quickly, her shoes clicking against the polished floor as she rushed to the boss’s office. She knew the rules: never keep Dr. Williams waiting. Many who had erred had left with dismissal letters. Her signatures were swift, her decisions radical.
“Madam, you called me?” Malaya asked, slightly breathless.
“Of course. I’m struggling to find the We Kids project file.”
“I put it on your desk, Madam.”
Malaya sifted through the papers, hands trembling slightly under Williams’ watchful gaze. Every motion, every breath, seemed amplified in the silence of the office.
“Are we going to search like this every time I need a document?” Williams asked. Even in annoyance, she carried herself with elegance, her posture impeccable.
“No, Madam. I was supposed to file them today.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because you were in the office, Madam.”
“Help me understand. I am confused.”
“I usually file on Sundays, since you’re not supposed to be here.”
Williams glanced at her phone. SUNDAY. Malaya was right: Dr. Williams had shown up on a day she wasn’t supposed to. She had worked through the week and beyond, losing track of time entirely. Apart from the on-call doctors and a few report staff, everyone had rearranged their schedules so as not to leave before Dr. Williams. It would have been sacrilege.
A faint flush of embarrassment colored Williams’s cheeks, but she straightened, adjusted her coat, and collected her bag with poise.
“Well, tomorrow morning, I want the file on my desk,” Williams ordered.
“Yes, Madam,” Malaya replied.
Her exit drew eyes, as always. Staff paused, admiring the ease and elegance of her stride. She walked slowly, followed by her bodyguard, toward the parking lot as if the world belonged to her. Sliding into the waiting car, the scent of polished leather mingled with her perfume, and the driver set off immediately.
Back at her luxurious villa, she shed her things across the spacious room, savoring the quiet privacy, her dresses slipping from her bare skin as the soft murmur of a fountain mixed with the faint scent of rain drifted through open windows. Alone, she poured whiskey into a crystal glass, the amber liquid catching the fading light, and sank into a steaming bath. Warmth embraced her, yet calm remained elusive. The more she drank, the more her thoughts tangled. In that hot bath, memories returned, haunting and unbidden.
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