Chapter 88

Stella's POV

"Stella, thank heavens you're here!" As I burst into the VIP lounge of Rouge nightclub, Samantha's frantic voice hit me like a slap,jolting me awake.

"What happened? Your text saidit was an emergency-"I stopped abruptly, the scene before me rendering my mind blank.

A man lay sprawled on the luxurious sofa,his shirt torn to shreds,bloodstained and barely breathing. Sam was hunched over him, pressing a cloth desperately against a prominent wound on his shoulder, blood seeping through her fingers in a horrifying display.

"What the hell happened here?" I gasped, quickly locking the door. "Sam, did you hurt him?"

"No!" Sam shouted back, her face a mix of indignation and panic. "I found him like this outside our lounge. I couldn't just leave him there!" I cautiously approached, scrutinizing the injured man. Despite the blood and grime obscuring half his face, his features seemed familiar. My heart raced as I took a closer look."Wait,isn't this Victor?" The Moore family member. Sam nodded heavily. "Yes, it's Victor."

"How did he end up like this?" I demanded, grabbing a clean cloth from the bar to help stem the bleeding. *This can't be a coincidence, Sam. What kind of trouble have you gotten into?* "This is too suspicious!"

Sam hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty."It's... complicated. Years ago, when I was backpacking in Asia,Victor saved my life. I owe him. He must have known this place was mine and came here for help."

I examined the wound more closely, my stomach churning-too deep, too severe. "This looks like a gunshot wound,Sam!We need to get him to a hospital!" *Damn, with this much blood loss, my heart's about to leap out of my chest.*

"We can't go to a hospital!" Sam's voice rose in desperation."Trust me, Stella. Reporting a gunshot wound would put him in even greater danger."

I bit my lip, my mind racing. *No hospital? With this much blood loss, how long can he last? But if she's this desperate,there must be more to it.* "Do we have any medical supplies here?" "Just a basic first aid kit," Sam pointed to the small box she had already opened. "It's not enough for this kind of injury." "We need professional help," I decided, pulling out my phone. " I'm calling James."

"That conductor?" Sam looked bewildered."What can he do?"

"James went to medical school before becoming a conductor,"I explained as I dialed. "He got his license, then chose music, but he still has his credentials. If anyone can help without involving a hospital, it's him." *Damn, my hands are shaking.but I can't let Victor die here.*

The phone rang four times before James answered. "Stella? It's almost midnight, are you okay?"

"James, I need your help," I tried to keep my voice steady,though my heart was pounding like a drum. "It's a medical emergency. Can you come to Rouge nightclub? Bring equipment for... a severe injury."

He paused. "What kind of severe injury?"

I glanced at the unconscious Victor. "A lot of blood loss,possibly a gunshot wound."

"Jesus, Stella," James swore softly. "What the hell have you gotten into?""Are you coming or not?" I snapped, too anxious to mince words."I'll be there in half an hour," he finally relented. "Don't move the patient, keep pressure on the wound, and don't let him drink anything if he wakes up."

"Thanks, James," I sighed in relief, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. "We'll be in the VIP area. Tell security you're here for me."

An hour later, James stormed into the VIP room, carrying a black medical bag, his face a mix of concern and irritation."Stella, I haven't performed surgery in years," he grumbled as he examined Victor's wound. "I'm a conductor now, not a surgeon."

"You're our best option right now," I reminded him, helping lay out his tools. *Stop talking and save him already, my heart's about to explode!*

"Who is this guy?" James asked as he cleaned the wound with antiseptic.

"Just someone we found," I evaded, unable to meet his eyes.

James shot me a skeptical look. "Really? You just found a guy with a gunshot wound outside a nightclub lounge. Stella, if that's true, I should call the police." "He's my boyfriend," Sam interjected, her hand possessively resting on Victor's uninjured arm, her tone smooth as if rehearsed. "We need your discretion, Mr. Morgan."

James raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but didn't press further. "Discretion comes at a price," he said, preparing a suture needle.

"Name it," I spoke before Sam could, *Hurry up, don't let him die here!*

James looked up, a mischievous glint in his eye."Dinner on you,anywhere I choose."

"Deal," I agreed immediately. "Even if you want the biggest seafood platter in Manhattan, I'll get it for you."

With the terms settled, James focused entirely on treating the wound, his hands moving with the precision of someone who hadn't lost his touch. "The bullet went through," he assessed. "He's lucky, no major arteries hit. But he's lost a lot of blood,needs fluids and antibiotics."

Sam and I watched tensely as he cleaned, stitched,and bandaged the wound, finally setting up an IV. My heart was in my throat, *If he doesn't make it, what will I do?*

"He should be stable now," James said, packing up his tools. "But he needs rest and monitoring. This kind of wound has a high risk of infection."

"Thank you, James," I said sincerely. "You saved a life tonight." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. *This guy might actually miss the thrill of emergency medicine.*

"About that seafood platter..."

An hour later, James and I were seated in a high-end seafood restaurant, tucked in a corner. Despite the late hour, the place was half full, mostly theater-goers and nightclub patrons.

"Are you going to tell me the truth?" James asked between bites of his seafood platter. "That guy is definitely not Sam's boyfriend."

I sipped my water, avoiding his gaze. "It's complicated."

"Complicated as in 'can't say,' or complicated as in 'I don't know?" James pressed, his eyes boring into mine.

"A bit of both," I admitted. "Sam said he saved herlife years ago, and she owes him. That's all I know." *Damn, I'm as confused as you are. What else is she hiding?* James looked skeptical but didn't push further. "He'll recover.Keep the wound clean, change the dressings daily, and make sure he takes the antibiotics I left." "Thanks again," I said, genuinely grateful. "You didn't have to come out so late."

"Consider it payback for old times," James half-smiled.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen, my body tensing. An unknown number had sent a text, containing only a photo-Adam at tonight's economic forum, smiling politely,standing next to a woman in a revealing dress. The message was brief: "Stella, men are naturally playful. Your precious Adam is no exception-he likes female company. At least I'm whole.unlike him."

A chill ran through me. Only one person would send such a message, deliberately jabbing at Adam's "disability"-Brian. *Damn!* I stared at the photo, recognizing the woman as one of the leads from *Splendor*, who had been flirting with Adam at a dinner a few weeks ago. *She's back at it?*

"Stella? What's wrong?" James's voice broke through my thoughts. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I quickly locked my screen, forcing a neutral expression. "Nothing, just a work message." James clearly didn't believe me, but before he could say more,his phone rang. "Excuse me," he said, stepping away to take the call. I looked at the photo again, my chest tightening. *Adam, you really know how to play, don't you? I'm here saving a life, and you're out there smiling with another woman?*