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I died in the ICU on the night of Independence Day. My fiancé, Ethan, the only emergency contact in my medical file, was watching fireworks with my adopted sister. When the doctor warned me my pelvic infection could lead to sepsis, he was off with her on a “healing retreat.” When the nurses called him, again and again, begging him to come to the hospital, he hung up, telling them my sister needed him. Before I died, I saw my sister’s Instagram post. Ethan and my mother were holding her under the fireworks, all three of them smiling. The caption read: *My family. My support system.* When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Ethan and I were supposed to register our marriage. He’d come back, too. He rushed over and pulled me into his arms, his voice shaking as he swore, “Ava, this time, I’ll answer the hospital’s calls. I promise.” I pulled out the marriage application and, right in front of him, drew a hard line through his name. “I don’t need that anymore, Ethan.” “You will never be my emergency contact again.” … The betrayal didn’t begin with that unanswered phone call. It began three months earlier, with an email from Credit Karma. *Credit Alert: A new joint account has been activated in your name.* I opened the email. It was a credit card, opened primarily against my credit history. A joint card. For Ethan and me. I never knew it existed. The billing address was in a different neighborhood, at an address I had never visited. And the billing records were like a silent film, playing out Ethan and Lily’s life together. Day after day, every charge sketched out exactly how he took care of her: groceries from an upscale organic market, private yoga lessons, expensive art supplies from the gallery district. All of it was happening somewhere I couldn’t see, but it was happening on my dime, under my name, with my future as collateral. The Uber stopped in front of my apartment building. I carr......

C'est ma femme qui m'a traîné à Bali. Moi je n'y croyais pas une seconde. Et c'est une guérisseuse de 76 ans qui a regardé mon ventre une fois et m'a dit ce qu'aucun médecin ne m'avait dit en France en quinze ans. "Ce n'est pas de la graisse. C'est ce que ton corps essaie d'évacuer depuis dix ans et qu'il n'arrive plus à faire sortir." Je m'appelle Robert. J'ai 58 ans. J'ai dirigé une petite entreprise de menuiserie pendant trente ans, et je l'ai vendue il y a deux ans. Je pensais que la retraite, ce serait la belle vie. La vérité, c'est que du jour au lendemain, je me suis retrouvé assis dans un fauteuil, à ne plus savoir quoi faire de mes journées, avec un corps que je ne reconnaissais plus dans le miroir. Mon ventre avait gonflé au point que je ne fermais plus la moitié de mes pantalons. Je me réveillais à 3h du matin chaque nuit, le cœur qui cognait sans raison. Je me sentais lourd, vidé, dans le brouillard - je cherchais mes mots en pleine conversation. J'avais 58 ans et je me sentais comme un homme de 75. Et puis un matin, en montant un simple escalier, j'ai eu une douleur dans la poitrine qui m'a plié en deux. Ma femme m'a emmené aux urgences le soir même. Les examens étaient bons. Cœur correct. CRP normale. Bilan hépatique normal. "Monsieur, à votre âge, après une vie de travail, c'est le contre-coup. Perdez un peu de ventre, prenez du magnésium, marchez. Ça passera." Six mois de magnésium. Six mois de marche. Rien n'avait bougé. Mon ventre ressortait toujours après chaque repas. Je m'endormais devant la télé à 21h. Je me réveillais toujours à 3h. Alors quand Hélène, ma femme, a réservé deux places pour une retraite de yoga à Bali - dix jours dans un centre tenu par une vieille guérisseuse balinaise - j'ai dit oui juste pour avoir la paix. Je n'y croyais pas. Pour moi, c'était des bougies parfumées et des gens qui respirent par le ventre. Je ne savais pas que j'allais y trouver la réponse à tout. Anjali avait 76 ans. Petite. Sèche. Des cheveux blancs tirés en chignon. Le genre de femme qui te regarde et tu as l'impression qu'elle voit à travers toi. Le premier matin, on s'est tous présentés en cercle sur la terrasse en bois. Quand mon tour est arrivé, j'ai dit mon prénom, mon âge, et que j'étais là "pour accompagner ma femme." Elle a hoché la tête. Puis elle m'a regardé droit dans les yeux et elle a dit, devant tout le groupe: "Ton ventre. Depuis combien de temps il ne dégonfle plus?" J'ai été pris de court. Aucun homme ne se fait poser cette question aussi directement. J'ai dit "je ne sais pas, deux ans, peut-être plus." Elle a hoché la tête à nouveau. Et elle a dit le mot qui a tout changé. "Ce n'est pas du ventre de bière, Robert. C'est de l'ama. Et tu en portes bien avant ta retraite." Ama. Je n'avais jamais entendu ce mot. Plus tard ce jour-là, elle m'a fait venir dans sa petite cuisine ouverte sur le jardin. Elle a sorti deux verres d'eau chaude et elle m'a expliqué. "Ama, c'est ce que les médecins ayurvédiques nomment depuis 4 000 ans. C'est l'accumulation. Tout ce que ton corps essaie d'évacuer depuis des années et qu'il n'arrive pas à faire sortir. Métaux lourds dans l'eau du robinet. Médicaments. Alcool. Conservateurs. Stress de trente ans de travail." Elle a fait un geste circulaire autour de son propre ventre. "Tout ça reste piégé. Année après année. Couche par couche. Et le corps gonfle pour essayer de protéger les organes. Ce n'est pas de la graisse. C'est ton corps qui te dit qu'il étouffe." Puis elle a dit le mot qui m'a coupé le souffle. "Stagnant." "Ton corps est stagnant, Robert. Comme l'eau d'un étang qui ne coule plus. Et quand le corps est stagnant, l'esprit l'est aussi." Je suis resté silencieux. Parce que ce mot - stagnant - c'était exactement comment je me sentais depuis que j'avais vendu l'entreprise. À l'arrêt. Inutile. Un homme qui s'était levé à 5h pendant trente ans et qui ne savait plus pourquoi se lever. Anjali parlait de mon corps, mais elle décrivait ma vie entière. Et alors elle a dit quelque chose qui m'a glacé. "Les Français prennent des médicaments le matin pour des problèmes qui sortent à minuit. C'est pour ça que les Français sont malades." J'ai regardé cette femme de 76 ans, vive, claire, sans une once de graisse au ventre, qui mangeait du riz et du curry trois fois par jour, qui ne prenait aucun médicament, qui dormait huit heures par nuit depuis ses vingt ans. Et j'ai compris que j'avais affaire à quelqu'un qui savait quelque chose que mon médecin ne savait pas. Le soir même, après le dîner, elle m'a emmené dans une petite pièce à l'arrière du centre. Sol en terre battue. Une bassine en cuivre posée sur un tabouret bas. De l'eau chaude. Des sels marins. Quelques pierres volcaniques noires au fond. "Trente minutes. Chaque soir. Avant de dormir. Tu trempes tes pieds." Je l'ai regardée comme si elle me demandait de boire l'océan. "C'est tout?" "C'est tout. Mais c'est tout ce qui compte." Elle s'est assise à côté de moi pendant que je trempais mes pieds. Et elle m'a expliqué le mécanisme. "Le corps a deux façons d'évacuer ce qui le pollue. La première, c'est par l'intérieur - le foie, les reins, les intestins. Cette voie est saturée chez toi. Trop d'années. Trop d'accumulation. C'est pour ça que les compléments ne marchent pas. Tu pousses des choses dans un système qui ne peut plus rien évacuer." "La deuxième voie, c'est par la peau. Et spécifiquement par les pieds. Tu as 2 000 pores par centimètre carré aux pieds. Plus que partout ailleurs sur ton corps. Plus qu'aux mains. Plus qu'au visage. C'est la plus grande zone de sortie du corps humain." "Quand tu trempes tes pieds dans une eau salée, chaude, minéralisée, tu crées un appel. L'eau attire vers elle. Les déchets stockés dans les tissus migrent vers les pores. Sortent. Dans l'eau." Elle a montré la bassine. "Tu vois l'eau changer de couleur en 30 minutes. Tu vois ce qui sort. Aucun médicament ne te montre ça. Aucun complément ne te montre ça. La bassine te montre tout." Puis elle a expliqué le timing. "Et tu le fais le soir. Parce que c'est la nuit que ton corps essaie de se nettoyer. Entre minuit et 4 heures, ton système lymphatique - ton drainage - tourne à plein régime. Mais s'il est saturé, il déclenche une réponse inflammatoire qui te réveille à 3h du matin, le cœur qui cogne. Ce n'est pas l'âge, Robert. C'est ton corps qui crie à l'aide la nuit. Donne-lui une porte de sortie avant qu'il ne dorme, et il arrête de crier." J'étais assis là, un homme de 58 ans, les pieds dans une bassine, à écouter une femme balinaise m'expliquer ma propre physiologie mieux que mon médecin en quinze ans de consultations. Au bout de 30 minutes, j'ai sorti mes pieds. L'eau était brune. Pas brun clair. Brun foncé. Avec des particules en surface. Un dépôt huileux sur les bords de la bassine. J'ai regardé Anjali. Elle a souri. "C'était dans toi, Robert. Maintenant c'est dans la bassine." Cette nuit-là, j'ai dormi sept heures d'affilée pour la première fois en deux ans. Pendant les dix jours de la retraite, je l'ai fait chaque soir. Le ventre a commencé à dégonfler dès la troisième nuit. Pas un peu. Visiblement. Je me regardais dans la glace et je voyais un homme que je n'avais pas vu depuis cinq ans. Le brouillard s'est levé vers le cinquième jour. Je me suis surpris à lire un journal en entier sans relire trois fois le même paragraphe. Première fois depuis que j'avais vendu l'entreprise. À la fin de la retraite, j'avais perdu sept centimètres de tour de taille. Sans changer mon alimentation. Sans faire plus de sport. Juste 30 minutes les pieds dans une bassine chaque soir. Et le plus dingue? En rentrant, je suis tombé sur Bernard, un vieux copain que je n'avais pas vu depuis un an, devant la boulangerie. Il m'a regardé deux secondes de trop et il a dit: "Robert? Mais qu'est-ce que tu as fait? Tu as rajeuni de dix ans." Je dormais. Mon ventre dégonflait. Pour la première fois depuis deux ans, je me sentais redevenir un homme, pas un retraité qui attend. Je suis rentré déterminé à continuer. Et c'est là que les choses se sont compliquées. J'ai acheté une bassine en plastique sur internet. Du gros sel. J'ai essayé de reproduire ce qu'Anjali faisait. Eau chaude. Sel. Mes pieds dedans trente minutes. L'eau ne changeait pas de couleur. Pas un peu. Pas du tout. Limpide après 30 minutes. J'étais furieux. Je me suis dit que c'était un truc qui ne marchait qu'à Bali - le climat, l'air, l'énergie du lieu. Tout ce que ma raison d'ancien artisan refusait d'admettre mais que mon corps réclamait. Pendant deux semaines, mon ventre a recommencé à gonfler. Le brouillard est revenu. Les réveils à 3h aussi. J'ai écrit à Anjali. Je lui ai expliqué. Elle m'a répondu en deux phrases. "Ce n'est pas le sel qui fait sortir. C'est le courant ionique. Tu as besoin d'un appareil qui crée le gradient électrique. Pas juste de l'eau salée." Le courant ionique. Anjali, du fond de son centre balinais sans électricité dans la moitié des pièces, comprenait l'électrochimie mieux que moi. J'ai cherché. Des heures de recherche. La bassine traditionnelle à Bali avait du cuivre, des pierres volcaniques chargées en minéraux, de l'eau d'une source thermale - tout ça créait naturellement un faible courant ionique entre les minéraux et la peau. Mon bac en plastique avec du gros sel ne créait aucun gradient. Rien ne sortait parce que rien n'était attiré dehors. J'ai cherché les versions modernes. Spa ionique pour les pieds. Appareils calibrés. J'ai acheté le premier que j'ai trouvé. 39€ sur un site chinois. L'électrode s'est oxydée à la troisième utilisation. L'eau devenait marron en cinq minutes - mais pas parce que des déchets sortaient, parce que le module en métal bon marché rouillait dans l'eau salée. Moi qui ai travaillé le métal toute ma vie, ça je l'ai vu tout de suite. J'ai jeté ça. J'ai recommencé. Deuxième appareil. 79€. Champ ionique qui s'effondrait après dix minutes. Il faut tenir les 30 minutes complètes pour atteindre la couche profonde - Anjali me l'avait répété trois fois. Cet appareil ne tenait pas. Je commençais à perdre espoir. Je me disais que cette pratique avait peut-être besoin d'une bassine en cuivre antique transmise par cinq générations de guérisseuses, et que rien de moderne ne pourrait reproduire ça. Puis mon gendre m'a parlé d'une marque française. Lensa. Sa mère l'utilisait depuis six mois. Il m'a dit "essaie. S'il ne marche pas, ils remboursent. Tu n'as rien à perdre." J'ai commandé. 99€. Livraison gratuite. Garantie 90 jours. Première séance avec le Lensa. Eau tiède. Sels marins. Trente minutes. Je n'attendais plus rien - j'avais déjà été déçu deux fois. J'ai sorti mes pieds à la fin. L'eau était brun foncé. Exactement comme à Bali. Avec les particules à la surface. Le dépôt huileux sur les bords. Tout pareil. Pas la couleur de la rouille. La couleur de ce qui était stocké dans mes tissus depuis trente ans et qui sortait enfin. J'ai pris une photo. Je l'ai envoyée à Anjali avec un message: "J'ai retrouvé la bassine." Elle a répondu un seul mot. "Continue." Semaine 1 - Plus d'activité intestinale. Quelque chose se débloquait. L'eau de la bassine devenait plus foncée chaque soir. Pas moins. Plus. Comme si plus j'en sortais, plus il y en avait à sortir. Semaine 2 - Le ventre a recommencé à dégonfler. Pas autant qu'à Bali la première fois, mais clairement. Mes pantalons fermaient à nouveau. Mon visage avait perdu cette bouffissure que je portais sans même m'en rendre compte. Semaine 3 - Le sommeil. Le sommeil, surtout. Je dormais sept à huit heures d'affilée, chaque nuit. Plus de réveils à 3h. Plus de cœur qui cogne. Je me réveillais en forme pour la première fois depuis des années. Semaine 4 - Le brouillard parti complètement. Je me suis remis à bricoler dans mon atelier, à finir des meubles que j'avais laissés en plan depuis deux ans. Hélène m'a dit "Robert, te revoilà. Le vrai toi." Semaine 6 - J'ai emmené mes petits-enfants au parc un dimanche. J'ai porté le petit dernier sur mes épaules sur 400 mètres, et je suis monté en haut du toboggan avec lui. Il y a six mois, je n'aurais pas pu monter l'escalier sans m'arrêter. Ma fille m'a regardé faire, et je l'ai vue se retenir de pleurer. Trois mois plus tard, j'ai écrit à Anjali un long mail pour tout lui raconter. Elle m'a répondu en quatre lignes. "Robert. Ce n'est pas le ventre qui est parti. C'est ce qui était stagnant en toi qui est sorti. Le corps suit l'esprit. L'esprit suit le corps. Tu as nettoyé les deux en même temps. Continue." Et elle avait raison. Parce que ce n'est pas juste mon ventre qui a dégonflé. C'est ma vie qui a recommencé à bouger. J'ai rouvert l'atelier au fond du jardin. J'ai repris le vélo le dimanche matin. J'ai recommencé à dire oui aux invitations que je déclinais depuis deux ans. Le corps stagnant rend l'esprit stagnant. Quand le corps recommence à drainer, l'esprit recommence à avancer. Bon. Je vous raconte tout ça pour une raison. Si vous avez plus de 50 ans, que votre ventre ne dégonfle plus, que vous vous réveillez à 3h du matin le cœur qui cogne, que vous vous sentez lourd et vidé alors que tous vos examens reviennent "normaux"... Ce n'est pas dans votre tête. Ce n'est pas le stress. Ce n'est pas l'âge. C'est de l'ama. C'est de l'accumulation. C'est ce que votre corps essaie d'évacuer depuis des années et qu'il n'arrive plus à faire sortir par les voies normales, parce qu'elles sont saturées. Et vous ne réglerez pas ça avec un complément de plus. Pas avec un régime de plus. Pas avec une cure détox orale qui va vous donner la diarrhée pendant trois jours et rien d'autre. Vous le réglerez en donnant à votre corps la voie de sortie qu'il réclame depuis des années. Par les pieds. Le soir. Avec un courant ionique stable qui crée le gradient nécessaire pour que les déchets sortent. C'est ce que les hommes et les femmes d'Asie font depuis 4 000 ans. C'est ce qu'Anjali m'a appris à 76 ans. Et c'est ce que je fais maintenant chaque soir, dans mon salon, un Lensa au pied de mon fauteuil. Lensa fait une promo en ce moment. Garantie 90 jours satisfait ou remboursé. Trois mois entiers pour le tester chez vous. Si rien ne change, vous renvoyez, ils remboursent. Sans poser de questions. Livraison gratuite en France. C'est une petite entreprise française. Production limitée. Ils sont souvent en rupture - quand j'en ai recommandé un à mon frère en mars, il a attendu six semaines. Donc si vous cliquez et qu'ils ont du stock, ne traînez pas. Je vous mets le lien en bas. Allez lire comment ça fonctionne avant d'acheter quoi que ce soit, chez eux ou ailleurs. Mais croyez-moi sur un point: si votre corps essaie de vous dire quelque chose depuis des années, et que personne ne vous écoute, c'est peut-être le moment d'écouter. Moi, j'ai attendu une douleur dans la poitrine pour comprendre. N'attendez pas la vôtre. Anjali avait raison. Les Français prennent des médicaments le matin pour des problèmes qui sortent à minuit. Arrêtez d'avaler. Commencez à drainer. 👉 https://offer.trylensa.com/lp1

“Code Blue. ER Trauma Bay One. Code Blue. ER. Trauma Bay One. Code Blue. ER. Trauma Bay One…” The code rings out as the bell alarms loudly across the room. I am currently straddling the unconscious, pulseless twenty something car crash victim as the EMTs roll him into the first trauma bay at the hospital. It was a head on collision with an eighteen wheeler versus a motorcycle. The fact this guy is still alive surprises the hll out of me. My muscles ache as I keep doing chest compressions while the CRNA intubates him. The man is covered in blood, leather, and tattoos and I can see the motorcycle gang emblem over his heart on his leather vest. I ignore the emblem and keep compressing harder. “Sam, get off. We need to check for a pulse.” I lift my hands and climb off of him. Now that we are fully in trauma bay one, I don’t have to move while we do chest compressions. I look at the monitor and pray for a shockable rhythm to appear. “Keep going,” Dr. Thomas says. Someone new steps in and starts compressions while I grab the inter-osteous drill and prepare to start a line into the man’s bone marrow. Once I have the line in I turn to Dr. Thomas. “Do you want me to push the epi?” “Push it,” he says as he continues to run the code. I slam the epi through the inter-osteous line and flush it quickly with normal saline. Chest compressions continue as I raise my head. “Epi is in,” I shout above the noise. “Heard, Epi is in,” Nikki said as she wrote it down on the clipboard for the record. She will be keeping up with the time as we work to save this man’s life. I turn to Dr. Thomas and nod my head. He sighs and looks up. “Time?” “Pulse check,” Nikki calls out. We check the pulse and look for the rhythm. I look at the monitor and smile brightly. “V-Tach! We have a pulse!” “Keep going,” Dr. Thomas orders. I step back in and start chest compressions again as he moves to the defibrillator. “Set it to two hundred joules,” “Two hundred joules, heard,” Zach says as he sets the defibrillator to the ordered strength. I keep doing chest compressions as our respiratory therapist keeps bagging the man. My heart is so hopeful as it looks like we might actually get him back. “Get ready to shock,” Dr. Thomas calls. I back away and raise my hands over my head. I touch nothing but the floor as Dr. Thomas steps in with the paddles in hand. “Everybody clear… Three, two, one…” He hits the buttons and delivers the shock. When he pulls the pads away, I start back with chest compressions and the chaos continues. “Pulse check,” he calls back. I stop and move my fingers to his carotid artery. There… “I feel it!” A sigh of relief comes through the room as all of us sag slightly. Dr. Thomas smiles and nods his head. “Get him moved to xray and MRI. I want a CT of his head, neck, and abdomen. Make sure he isn’t bleeding internally. Hang blood on him and fluids before he goes.” “Yes sir,” I say as I start to hang O negative blood and normal saline. Once we get the fluids going, I stick him on the other side and draw blood for every lab I can think of. As I am doing this, they are moving him to get a CT, MRI, xray, and every other test done so we can make sure this man lives. After I draw his blood, I move out of the way to take it to the lab and bump into a large and strong object. “Woah, Sam… Sorry to bump into you.” I look up and see the smiling face of Officer Hallbrooks. I smirk and roll my eyes at him as I shake my head. “You’re good, Mark,” I smile. “You hear for the victim?” He sighs and nods his head. “Yeah. John Deer, there, was a bad accident. I’ve reached out to his biker gang and told them I need someone to come identify them. They said they are sending someone up here to identify him so we can notify his family. Who knows if they are sending another member of the gang or if they are sending someone who is his actual friend.” I swallow hard and nod my head slowly. “I think they prefer the term motorcycle club,” I tease. “Besides, he was just riding his bike when he got hit, right?” Mark runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily. “I’m not sure, but we are working to figure that out.” I nod my head slowly. “Alright, well I need to get going. I have to get these up to the lab before they hemolyze,” I say as I step past Mark and head for the elevator. I feel him grab my arm quickly before I walk away. “Hey, wait… Uhm, have you thought about the dinner idea? You know? Just us going to grab a bite to eat.” I smirk and shake my head slowly. “I’ve got to go, Mark. We can talk later when we aren’t slammed,” I say evasively as I turn back and head up to the lab. After I drop the labs off, I head back downstairs to find more of a shift show waiting in the ER. Two heart attacks are coming in hot, a r8pe victim and her r8pist are sitting in rooms close to one another, a gun shot wound to the chest is coding in trauma bay six, and more of the pod is going crazy due to a gang related shooting that just arrived in the lobby. I sigh and shake my head slowly as I wait for my trauma bay one patient to return. I turn and look at trauma bay two and frown as I realize it has just been cleaned. “Sam,” I hear my charge nurse, Melisa, call. “You’re getting another one. Sixteen year old r@pe and domestic violence victim. Use your SANE nurse certificate and do your fking job.” I glare at her and roll my eyes. Melisa hates me, but the feeling is mutual. I flip her off as her back turns. I turn around and start to move towards bay two and hit another hard object. This hard object was a lot different than the last one though. “Ooof,” I say as I stumble back. As I take a step back, a strong arm, like a tree trunk reaches out to grab me. “Sorry… Are you alright?” I sigh and nod my head slowly. “Yeah, I’m al–” The words are cut short as my moss green eyes glide up the arm that is attached to the body that is holding me. Celtic style tattoos run up the forearm and disappear under a black t-shirt that hugs the chest of the man in front of me. He is broad shouldered, easily six feet and four inches tall, and feels like he is made of steel. My eyes slowly climb up to his face and my breath catches again as I take in the appearance of the man in front of me. Light olive skin peaks through thick dark brown hair that moves to his strong jaw. A diamond shaped face holds his strong nose and jawline as a French crop hairstyle with short spikes on top showcase just how thick his dark brown hair actually is. He smiles softly and the faintest hint of dimples pop up. My knees go a little weak as I take him in. Holy shht… His smile quickly turns into a grin as he takes in my stunned face. “Sorry about that… I didn’t mean to bump into you…” His face quickly falls as he becomes more serious and glances around slowly. “I’m actually looking for someone. They said he was in trauma bay one? Can you point me to the right place?” I inhale sharply and swallow hard. The hint of an expensive cedarwood cologne hits my nostrils and I blink to clear my head. “Yeah, uhm, right this way… He isn’t back yet, but you can wait in here until he gets here,” I say as I show him to bay one. He grunts softly and nods his head firmly. “Thanks… Are you his nurse?” I smile and nod my head. “Yes sir… My name is Sam. I’ll be taking care of him until he is ready to be moved to the ICU. I’ll be back after he gets back from imaging. In the meantime, you can wait in here,” I say again as I show him to the room. He grunts, nods his head again and steps into the room. “Thanks,” he says. His voice sounds like the smoothest whiskey and as deep as the ocean. I blink and try to calm my nerves as I turn and walk into trauma bay one to the horrific sight of my next patient. II Chapter 2 The Demon Sam… A beautiful name for a beautiful woman… Her bright red scrubs match her curly red hair as I watch her disappear from the room. Moss green eyes are framed with freckles on her delicate face. She was tall for a woman, about five foot six, and fit as h*ll. I can tell she goes to the gym and I know for a fact this woman is strong. The no nonsense type of woman who would probably punch you in the face before she let something else happen to her. In other words, she was beautiful and just my type… I sigh and shake my head firmly. Focus, Austin…Well, Demon… I sigh as I look down at my phone and frown. The police called the club about thirty minutes ago and told us that one of our patched members was in a wreck. If I had to guess, it was Shortcut. We sent him out this afternoon on an intel mission and, if I had to guess, he got caught by the wrong people… I sit back in my chair and frown. I look down at it as I study the floor for several minutes. When I agreed to become the president of the club, I had no idea it included being so worried about my people. I sigh again as I look back at my phone and do my best to stay calm. I had decided not to show up on my bike or in my cut. Not this time. I needed them to think I was just a normal person or a normal friend and not one of the patch members of the club. Jokes on them, because I own the club… About ten minutes after I sat down, here comes the stretcher with Shortcut laying on it. He has a tube down his throat, a line sticking out of one of his bones, more lines all over his body, and he looks like a living nightmare. “Fk,” I mutter under my breath as I stand up. My face goes stern as I look at him and do a once over. One of the most difficult things about being the president of the club… I am technically the medical power of attorney for everyone who is a fully fledged patch member… And honestly, I wish I weren’t. Shortcut, or legally, Josh Henderson, was only twenty-two years old. His father and grandfather were both patched members of the club well before him and were wonderful enforcers back in the day of my father. When my generation took over the club, we became more modernized and more stealthy with our illegal operations. I never realized just how big we would get until we were where we are now… I look at the orderly and nod my head. “Thanks,” I say gruffly as I move to his side. I sigh and shake my head as I feel worry rise in my chest. Before I can do or say anything else, Sam walks in with a fake smile. Her eyes are not unkind, but she looks like she is trying to hide something from the rest of the world. Disgust? Maybe? I shake my head. She takes a cleansing breath and walks towards me. “Sorry,” she says as she fixes her face. “Rough day in the ER… Anyway, now that he is back, I need to get some information from you, if at all possible.” I nod my head. “Of course… What do you need to know?” She smiles softly. “His name would be a great place along with his date of birth. If we can get those two things, I think we can piece together everything else.” I nod my head slowly. “His name is Josh Henderson. He is twenty-two years old, born on June fifteenth.” She nods her head firmly as she pulls up his chart and proceeds to type. “Awesome. Thank you for that information. We can take him out of the system as a John Deer and put him in the system as his name. Next question, does he take any medication or does he have any allergies that you are aware of?” I shake my head slowly. “No medications. No allergies… Real quick question… Is he going to make it?” I watch Sam pause for a moment. I see a line form between her perfect little eyebrows as she bites the inside of her cheek. She sighs heavily and lowers her head. “Do you want me to lie to you or do you want me to be honest? You seem like the type of man who can smell out the B.S…” I smirk softly and nod my head. Her candor is admirable. Even if it’s hard, she is willing to shoot straight with me. “Give it to me straight,” I say. Her shoulders sag heavily and nods her head slowly. “Honestly, probably not… I’ve been doing this for a minute. I became a nurse at the age of nineteen and I have been working in the ER since then… It is very rare that I see someone in this condition pull through… Have you been told what all happened since he arrived in the ER or not?” I sigh and shake my head slowly as I look over at him. “No, I haven’t been told anything. Just that he was in a wreck and he was brought to the ER. The police were pretty vague about it all.” She nods her head slowly. “Are you the family?” I shake my head. “No, but I am his medical power of attorney… Tell me what I need to know.” She nods her head slowly and I see the sadness building behind her eyes. She was young, probably not much older than him, but she has seen some horrible things working in this place since she was nineteen. “Well, for starters, he was dead when he arrived. EMS was performing CPR on him as soon as he rolled through the doors. We took over and did our best to get him stabilized. He just got back from some STAT imaging tests and his lab work just came back from the lab. It’s not looking good,” she whispers softly. “I can’t tell you the results of anything or what statistics say, but what I can tell you is this: If he makes it out alive, he is going to have a long road of recovery ahead of him.” I nod my head slowly. “Who can discuss everything in detail with me?” She frowns softly. “Dr. Thomas. He is the attending at the moment. I can grab him for–” She cuts short as a horrific scream echoes through the hospital. I furrow my brow and I watch her professional facade drop. “Give me a minute,” she mutters as she walks out of the room. I follow her out of the room and as soon as we step out into the hallway, I see who made that horrific scream… The patient next door was screaming and crying as a man towered over her. He looked like he was ready to kill her and she seemed to be terrified of him. “What the fk,” I say. “Oh no!” Sam rushes head first into the situation and jumps on the man’s back. The man starts thrashing around and I hear her scream. “Leave her alone, you bаst3rd!” I furrow my brow, but I don’t ask questions. Instead, I step through the door of this girl’s room and move towards the two rolling on the floor. I pull Sam off of him and toss her behind me as I grab the man by the front of his shirt. I shake him hard as I look over him. “What the fk,” I growl at him. “Get him out of here! Now!” Sam is holding the crying girl as I turn to look at her. I nod my head and drag the b@st3rd out of the room. As soon as I get out of the room, officers appear out of nowhere and grab the guy from me as he fights. “I’M GONNA KILL THAT LITTLE sk'аnk! YOU HEAR ME, b*tch!!! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!!” I growl and ball up my fist. Before anyone can stop me, I rear back and punch the bаst3rd square in the temple and he goes limp and hits the ground. “Let’s see how many people you kill while you’re out cold,” I say as I hand the freak over to the police. I frown as I turn back and look at the crying girl in the room. She is huddled in the corner crying and Sam is doing her best to comfort her even though I see the anger deep within her moss green eyes. Beautiful… III Chapter 3: The Caretaker “Shhh,” I whisper to my crying patient. “It’s okay… It’s okay… You’re safe,” I say to her as I rub her back. I look up and watch in shock as the man from the room over drags her r8pist out of her room. I swallow hard as I watch his muscle flex under his shirt and he punches the bаst3rd straight in the face. Dam… He has a strong right hook… “Let’s see how many people you kill while you’re out cold,” his deep voice rumbles. Instant panty drop if I ever did hear one. I swallow hard and shake my head. Get your head out of the gutter, Sam… I sigh as I look down at the sixteen year old girl in my arms and rock her gently. She was crying, shaking, and doing her best to hide herself from the world. I rub her back gently as I continue to hold her. I watch as Mark takes the limp body of her attacker and drags him to the floor. He places him in handcuffs and nods to me through the door with a firm look. I know that look… I’ve seen it one too many times to know how this sht is going to go. I pull the girl to her feet and help her back to the stretcher. She is calming down some but she is still shaking. Before I can do anything, the guy from next door comes back into the room. “Sorry about that,” he says as he looks at the young girl. “Are you alright, sweet heart?” She sniffles and nods her head. “Yes, sir,” she whispers softly. Before either of us could do anything else, she gasps. “Mom? Dad?” She jumps off the stretcher and runs to them with open arms. “Mom! Dad!” Her father catches her and pulls both her and her mother in for a super tight hug. I sigh softly and smile. At least they came here… I turn to the man who is not even supposed to be in here and pat him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s give them some privacy for now.” He nods his head and we walk out of trauma bay two together. I smile up at the guy and nod my head to him. “Thank you… You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” He smirks and nods his head. “It was no trouble. I hate seeing children scared and I hate seeing grown men put their hands on women… Speaking of which, are you alright?” I smirk and nod my head slowly as I look over at him. “I’m alright. I’m a lot tougher than I look,” I tease. “Come on, I need to get back to your friend now that the excitement is over.” He smirks and nods his head slowly. “Actually, I need to be going… Uhm, if for some reason you all need more information on him, just give me a call,” he says as he pulls a business card out of his pocket. He places it in my hand and nods his head slowly. “Do everything you can for him, please.” I nod my head firmly. “Of course. He’s young and has a long life he needs to live,” I say as I watch the man walk away… I shake my head and move back into his room. I hang the vasopressors for him and furrow my brow as his labs come back. I sigh and shake my head. His blood work is horrible and the images from the CT, MRI, and xray all indicate significant internal bleeding. Great… Just, great… I move out of his room after hanging the vasopressors and head straight for the dictation station next to the nurse’s station. I knock on the door and look at Dr. Thomas. “Hey… Lab work and image results are back on bay one… Have you seen them?” Dr. Thomas sighs and nods his head firmly. “Yeah, I’ve already called the trauma surgeon in and his team. Get him ready for surgery.” I sigh and nod my head. I frown as I look down at the business card and shake my head. The man just left and I am already going to have to call him to ask if we can do surgery on his friend. Great… I moved to the nurse’s station and sigh as I sit down next to Nikki. “Hey, I got a favor to ask.” She smirks. “Need a witness to sign the consents with you?” I smirk. “Yup, how did you know?” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Come on. Call the family so we can get this over with.” I nod my head and pull up the chart. I find the emergency contact information and pull up the new number. I sigh and dial it into the hospital phone and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?” His smooth voice is intoxicating. God, why can he do this? “Hey, uhm, Mr. Blackwood? This is Sam. I am so sorry to bother you, but I have to get some consents signed for Josh. We are going to have to do emergency surgery on him and we need the okay to take him back to the operating room and do these surgeries and what not.” He chuckles softly. “Of course. You have my permission to do whatever needs to be done to save his life.” I sigh. “Thank you… Do you mind telling my friend here the same thing too? She has to be told in order to sign the consents with me.” “Not at all. Hand her the phone, Sam.” His smooth voice sends a shiver down my spine and I shake my head as I hold the phone out to Nikki. She takes the phone from me and smiles. “This is Nikki. Who am I speaking to?” As soon as he speaks, I see the look on her face as she turns towards me. Her eyes double in size and her mouth falls open. “Yes sir, Mr. Blackwood… Uhm, do you consent to us performing these surgeries on him?” She mouths at me. He sounds hot! I smirk and nod my head as I give her a look. “Thank you Mr. Blackwood. Have a good night.” She hangs up the phone and instantly starts to fan herself. “Dear lord in heaven. If he looks half as hot as he sounds, I’ll be pregnant by the time he walks away.” I snort with laughter and roll my eyes. “Get it together, Nikki. We still have three hours left in our shift.” She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and then we are going out tonight, right? Come on… You promised me we would go and it’s been a real sh'itshow tonight. We need a break from the world.” I sigh heavily and roll my eyes. “Fine, but if Archy screams at me, I am telling him it is your fault.” She smirks and rolls her eyes as she signs the consents with me. “Your cat can kiss my @ss. You need a break from the world and you need a good lay. He has food, water, and an automatic litter box, right?” I blush and nod my head. I took better care of my cat than I did myself half the time. “Yeah… He’s set for the night.” She smirks. “Perfect! I know the best place to go after a night like tonight. The guys are all tough, rugged, and super s*xy. We can drink, dance, and maybe get lucky if we try hard enough.” She gives me a playful wink and I roll my eyes as I shove at her playfully. Out of the two of us, she was the more adventurous and outgoing while I was the more focused and centered. I sigh and shake my head as I look at her with a soft smirk. “Fine… One drink, a couple hours of dancing, and then we take an Uber back to my place for the night. Deal?” She giggles and rolls her eyes. “Deal…” IV Chapter 4: The Caretaker ***WARNING!!!*** THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER DEPICTS GRAPHIC CONTENT AND MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, r@pe, drvgs, AND ALCOHOL. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED AT THIS TIME!!! The music pounds through the sidewalk as we make our way into the bar Nikki told me about. She was beyond ready to show me to this place and I had to say, I was a bit nervous. The bar was well outside the city center and when we pulled into the parking lot, all I saw were motorcycles. I furrowed my brows and glanced at her. “A biker bar? Really!?” She smirks and rolls her eyes. “What can I say? I think they are super hot…” I sigh and roll my eyes at her as we step out of the Uber and head inside. When we push open the doors, the music intensifies and I feel the base from the speakers shake my body as the song Paralyzer by Finger Eleven blares through the room. “This will be fun,” I yell to her over the music sarcastically as half naked girls walk around the bar. They all appear to be wearing leather vests with black tank tops and denim shorts. Some of them are wearing tennis shoes while others are wearing boots. This bar wasn’t meant for women to come and hang out, this bar was meant for women to come find a good lay and get shht faced. Thanks, Nikki… I smile at some of the girls as we make our way to the bar to order our first drink. Nikki climbs onto one of the bar stools and pulls me up next to her as one of the bar tenders comes over to us. It’s a young lady, probably no older than me, who is wearing the same uniform as the other girls walking around. I inhale deeply as I look down and realize that Nikki and I stick out like sore thumbs in this place due to the fact we are both still wearing scrubs. Me in bright red and Nikki in navy blue. Great… “Hey ladies,” she yells over the music. “What can I get you to drink?” Before I can say anything, Nikki screams over the music to answer for us. “Two double shots of Patrone and two double Blue guy!” I gasp at her as my green eyes go wide. “Nicole Grace! We can’t be doing that, the two of us will die!” She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “No, you might die, but I will be fine! Come on, we are getting plastered tonight after the sh'itshow we had at work. Besides, we are both off for the next three days and we need to have some fun tonight!” I smirk and roll my eyes. She wasn’t wrong, it was a shift show. After we sent my bay one to the operating room, three more ambulances came rolling in. One was a heart attack, one was a stab victim, and one was a domestic violence victim… A three year old little girl whose mother allowed her boyfriend to hurt the poor thing… She didn’t make it… I shake my head hard and frown. “You’re right,” I called out over the music. “Let’s get sht faced!” Nikki smirks and so does the bartender. We each open up a tab and start drinking. Two shots each and a blue motherf**ker later, we were both starting to relax. I got another top shelf blue motherfvcker and Nikki got a dry martini and we hit the dance floor. We were both laughing and drinking and dancing with each other and before we knew it, three hours had passed and we both had a five hundred dollar tab. We were both fckd up from the ground up, but neither of us cared. I giggled and danced on the dance floor as the alcohol finally hit me and it hit me hard. I smirk at Nikki as I lean into her while we dance with each other. “Giirrll… I’m so fkn drunk!” She laughed and screamed over the music. “Same! Do you think we are going to remember tonight?!” I look at her, she looks at me and we both start to laugh. The answer was simple: No, we weren’t going to remember a fking thing… We were laughing it up when I felt a hand slide around my waist. I gasped and jumped a bit as I heard a voice speak into my ear. “Hello, gorgeous. How are you, tonight?” I smirk as I see the hungry look on Nikki’s face and I turn around. When I turn around, I look up into the blue eyes of a blonde haired demigod looking man. I giggle and roll my eyes. “I’m doing good, but you aren’t my type,” I say as I look over at Nikki. “She is going to be more your style anyway.” Nikki blushes and giggles as she steps closer. The guy runs his eyes over Nikki appreciatively and nods. “Alright… How are you tonight, beautiful?” She giggles and I watch her walk away with the man. He was cute, but he was for sure not my type. I keep sipping my drink as I move back to the bar. I see her turn around and give me a final look and I smirk. Text me I signal to her as she nods her head and walks out of the bar with the dude. I know her. She is all about the hookups and the one night stands. Me? Not so much… I think I have had maybe one or two serious boyfriends in my whole life and a random hookup maybe only once? If you can even count it as a hookup. We made out and did oral, but I wasn’t about to let him actually fuk me. He wasn’t worth the time or the hassle he claimed to be worth. I sigh as I slide back onto the barstool. Nikki didn’t close out her tab, so I did it for her. I got her debit card and sent her a quick text to let her know I had it before she was too far gone. She sent me a thumbs up emoji and I pocketed her debit card before turning back to my drink. I was sitting at the bar, just playing on my phone when I felt another hand on my waist. This hand felt different and far more nefarious in nature as I turned my head quickly to the side. “Evening, s*xy,” the man whispers. I frown as I see his smiling face, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. No… This guy was bad news and I could feel it deep in my bones. “Evening,” I say as I slide away from him. I move to the other side of the bar and he follows me. I frown as he cages me in between his hands. “Where are you going, beautiful? I just wanna talk to you…” I frown harder at him as I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t want to talk to you… I have a boyfriend.” I have always been a horrible liar, but I also know if I don’t try just how bad things can go. I’ve seen it first hand and you have to do what you have to do to keep yourself safe. A part of me wishes I had grabbed my purse before we left the hospital, but I was just worried about my phone, my wallet, and my keys so I could get back into my apartment at the end of the night. The guy above me smirks. “Really? Because I don’t see him.” I glare at him and take a sip of my drink. I’m going to need my liquid courage if I want to get away from him. As soon as I swallow, I see his expression shift from hope to pure evil glee. shhht… “What did you do to my drink!?” As soon as I say this, the room starts to spin and my eyes become unfocused. The fkn prick. He chuckles darkly and holds me to his chest. “I may have given you something to help you along, baby… I hope you don’t mind.” Oh, I fcking mind, I tried to say, but all I could do was close my eyes tightly as the room started to spin. V Chapter 5: The Demon I sigh as I make it to the club. I look out at the bar in front and shake my head slowly. It’s Friday night and the guys and their old ladies are rocking it out tonight. This is a legitimate business and one of the few ways the club earns income in a legal manner. The rest of our income is, well, less than legal… I push open the door of the bar and nod my head at the old ladies I see walking around and serving drinks. The girls smile and wave back at me as I make my way to the bar. I see Stefanie working the bar and catch the look on her face. I follow her gaze and holy sh1t!!! My eyes widen as I see Sam, of all people, standing in this bar and she… She doesn’t look good at all. She is pinned to the bar by some random guy who is groping her up. She shoves his hand away from her body, but the guy doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. I growl to myself as I make my way over to the two of them. As I get closer, I notice she is off. Not just drunk, but intoxicated and under the influence of something way worse than alcohol. Did that bаst3rd roofie her!? I shove my way past other patrons and stand behind the bаst3rd. “Stop,” I hear her say to him. “Come on, baby. You know you want me. I can help you feel good… I can help take away that throb you’re feeling now,” he says to her. I growl and reach out to the fker. I jerk him around and glare. “What the fck did you just say to my girl!?” The guy goes still as he takes me in. I’m not a little fker by any stretch. I’m also not weak. The guy takes one look at me and his face falls. “Woah, sorry man, I didn’t realize she was yours… No.” I grab the guy by the front of his shirt and pull him to my face. “She just told you to stop. It doesn’t matter if she has a boyfriend or not. If a woman says stop, you stop. If she says no, it means no.” I shove him away from her, and myself, hard. He stumbles back and hits the wall. He glares at me. “Get out… Don’t come back.” The fker balls up his fist. “You don’t own this place. You can’t kick me out of this place. I know the owner!” I scoff and roll my eyes as I step towards him. “Oh, really?” I grab the fker again and shove him into the wall. His head hits first and I see the stars form across his eyes. “You know the owner, huh?” He swallows hard as I call his bluff. He doesn’t know the owner, clearly, since I am the owner. “Yes… I know the owner. He and I go way back.” I smirk and cok my head to the side. “Oh yeah? What’s his name?” Fear forms over his features and I smirk darkly. Gotcha… “Uhm, well, he, uh, he doesn’t have a normal name,” he says. Lies… All of the establishments are owned by my real name, not my road name. “Uh huh… Well, do me a favor. When you figure out just how fked up and wrong you are about who the owner is, you can come back and apologize. Until then, get the fck out of my bar and don’t come back.” I shove the guy towards the front door of the bar. The music has been cut off and everyone is staring at the two of us. I stand my ground in front of him and put myself between him and Sam. I can hear Sam panting behind me, but I don’t turn my back on the fker. Not yet. He swallows hard and stands up to his full height, which is still about three inches shorter than me. I smirk and narrow my eyes. “Come on, baby,” he calls to Sam. “We are leaving this shlt hole.” He tries to reach around me and grab her, but I catch his hand. “Do you know this bаst3rd, Sam?” I hear her gasp as recognition hits her like a ton of bricks. She swallows hard and shakes her head slowly. “No, Austin… I don’t know him.” I smirk at her familiar response, but I quickly change my features back to hard and stern as I turn back to look at the fker in front of me. “The lady says she doesn’t know you. Leave… By yourself… Don’t come back to my bar. Got it?” He tries to fight out of my grip, but I squeeze his forearm tighter. He winces as he tries to jerk out of my grip. “Let me go you bаst3rd! My father will hear about this! He is the assistant CEO of Blackwood Enterprise and I will have your whole @ss! I’ll own this sh1thole and then shut it down!” I chuckle darkly and pull the little fker closer to my face. “Oh, so your father is Benjamin Atwood Sr.?” The little fker nods his head firmly with a smug little smirk. I grin almost like a feral demon as I lock eyes with him. “Wonderful, I’ve been needing a dam good reason to get rid of the older fker. I’ll be sure he knows you’re the reason he was fired.” The color drains from his face and his eyes double in size. “Wait… You’re…” I shove him towards the door. “Get out of my establishment and don’t ever come back…” He stumbles towards the door and the others in the bar instantly go back to what they were doing. I turn around with a heavy sigh and move closer to Sam. “Hey, are you okay?” Before she says anything, she takes a step and stumbles into my arms. “Oh! Yeah, sorry…” She shakes her head firmly as she seems to sway in my arms. “He put something in my drink,” she pants as she starts to sweat. I pull her closer to my chest and tilt her face up to mine. She is panting and her cheeks are flushed. God she looks $exy as fk right now, but that doesn’t matter. “He put something in your drink?” She nods her head firmly as her eyes go unfocused. “Fk,” I curse as I pull her closer to me. I frown and pop my head up as I look around the bar. I lock eyes with my VP, Snake, and motion for him to come over. He hurries over and takes one look at the situation and curses himself. “Fk,” he growls. “Another dickhead trying to take advantage of a woman?” I frown and nod my head firmly. “Yeah… Unluckily for him, I know his father. Lucky for her, I know her.” Snake raises his eyebrows and looks down at the woman in my arms. He looks back up to me and smirks. “Oh, you know her, huh?” I glare at him. “Not like that, jackass.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “She is the ER nurse who took care of Shortcut today.” “Oh fuk!” His face goes from pure shock to uninhibited rage within point zero-two seconds. “I’ll kill the fker, where is he!?” I smirk and shake my head. “Don’t worry. He will get what’s coming to him.” I sigh as Sam goes limp in my arms and I shake my head again. “fk'n… I’m taking her to my room. She will be safe there.” Snake nods his head. “Sounds good. You get some sleep too while you’re at it.” I smirk and roll my eyes. “Yes, mother. I’ll get some rest too.” Snake glares at me, but there is no heat behind it as he shoves me towards the stairs. I chuckle and pick Sam up into my arms and carry her unconscious body upstairs to my room above the bar. Because of how often I have to be here and how often things go sideways with the club, I made sure I would be comfortable. Once I climb the stairs, I kick the door open and then kick it closed behind me as I set Sam down on her feet in the room. She stumbles and I sigh. “Easy there, Sam.” She sways softly on her feet as her eyes come back into focus. “Austin?” I smirk and nod my head at her. It might have been a very brief interaction, but she remembered my name and my face. For some reason, it makes me feel great that she remembered me. “Austin… Ow… My head hurts.” I sigh and nod my head. “I know, Sam… Come on, you need to get your shoes off and get undressed. I’ve got something you can borrow.” She nods her head and starts to strip off her scrubs and her shoes. I turn around and I grab her one of my shirts out of my dresser. When I turn around, she is standing in front of me in just her panties. I see her perfect brests bounce in front of my face and I swallow hard. “Here,” I say, handing her the shirt. She takes it and stumbles into me. “Oops… Sorry,” she slurs as she stumbles back. Her bare hills hit my chest and I suk in a sharp breath. Jesus Christ, this woman is hot.. And really drunk. I shake my head and help steady her. “Sam… You need to lay down. You’re drunk and on some type of dr*g.” She nods her head as she slips my shirt over her head and stumbles around the room. I sigh and pick her up bridal style and carry her to the queen size bed pushed against the wall. It is big enough for just me, but if I have to share it with her tonight, so be it. “Come on, firecracker, it’s time for you to go to sleep.” I lay her down on the bed and tuck her under the sheets. As I try to pull away, her hand shoots out and she grabs onto me. “Wait… Stay… Please…” Her eyes are pleading and I sigh heavily. “Alright… Fine… You’re going to be super embarrassed in the morning though,” I say as I slide my jeans off my hips and pull my shirt off over my head. I slide into the queen bed next to her and she snuggles into me. She mumbles something incoherently and I smirk. “Good night, little firecracker. I’ll see you in the morning…” VI Chapter 6: The Caretaker I groan as I finally wake up out of a deep sleep. I know I didn’t rest for shhht last night as my head pounds and I try to roll over away from the morning sun. I blink against some light flooding through closed blinds as I start to take in my surroundings. Where on earth am I?! I try to roll over, but can’t. Is that a wall!? Am I on a twin bed!? I sigh and rub my eyes firmly. As they adjust to the morning light, I am finally able to see where I am. I am not at home. I am not in Nikki’s guest bedroom. I am somewhere foreign to me and my heart instantly starts to race. I freak out and try to sit up, but a large, heavy arm is thrown over my waist. I swallow hard and look down at the arm and freeze. I’m not in my scrubs… I’m in someone’s t-shirt without a bra on. Oh sht!! Did that guy r8pe me!?! I start to panic and push against the arm. “Sam,” I hear a deep voice whisper. A shiver starts at the base of my neck where I feel his breath.“Sam, you’re safe…” My head snaps around and I see the hazel eyes of none other than Austin Blackwood. The medical power of attorney of my patient from last night. My mind races as I search his eyes. I look down and realize he still has on a shirt. I pant and squirm in his arms. “Let me go…” He instantly releases me and I tumble to the floor out of the queen size bed. He huffs and moves to the edge of the bed with a smirk. I pant and look up at him as I take inventory of everything I know. I left the hospital with Nikki. Nikki left with some stranger, but she will be alright. There was a guy that was there after Nikki left. He admitted to slipping something into my drink… My memories stop. I swallow hard as I snap my eyes up to Austin’s face. I furrow my brow as I look down at myself. I am wearing a black t-shirt that swallows me whole. My scrubs are discarded on the floor near the bed along with my shoes. I look back up at Austin and sigh heavily. “Did we…?” I point between us in a suggestive manner. He smirks and shakes his head. “No… I wouldn’t have even stayed in this bed with you last night, but you asked and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” I swallow hard and pant softly. I take in his appearance. Disheveled hair, rumpled t-shirt, and I see the hint of boxers at his hips. He’s completely dressed and I don’t feel sore like someone who has been r8ped. “What happened? Last night, I mean.” Austin rolls onto his back with a groan and tosses a large hand onto his chest. “Do you want the long or the short version?” I frown and crawl out of the floor as I look around the room. There is the bed pushed against the wall, a large desk with a leather desk chair on the other side, and a mini fridge that sits next to a few filing cabinets. “I guess the long version? I don’t know… Just, tell me everything I need to know or should know.” He sighs and nods his head. He sits up and props his back against the wall. He pats the spot I just fell out of and smirks. “Take a seat and let’s chat then.” I sigh and nod my head as I crawl back on top of the mattress. He adjusts himself next to me to make more room for me before he starts. “Look, I only know what I saw last night and it wasn’t pretty. I walked into the bar to get a drink after everything that I had to deal with. When I got there, I scanned the bar and saw you and some dou''qhe canoe at the far side of the bar. Really, I saw my lead bar tender with a pissed off look on her face and that was enough to have me on high alert. I took in the scene and made a swift decision to intervene. When I got over there, you asked him to stop and the bаst3rd kept pushing and I snatched his @ss up and shoved him off of you.” I sigh and nod my head. “He told me he put something in my drink…” Austin nods his head firmly as a scowl takes over his handsome face. “Yeah… I’m taking care of that sht. He’s been banned from my bar and all of my establishments and his father has been fired from my company as of Monday.” I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Wait… You own the bar we were in?!” Austin smirks and nods his head slowly. “You mean the bar we are still in? Yeah. I also own about ten different restaurants around the city and I am the CEO and owner of Blackwood Enterprise. We mainly deal in technology, but we also have our hands in things like pharmacology production, research, and construction.” I swallow hard and nod my head slowly. “Wow… And here I am just a lowly ole trauma nurse.” “Hey, don’t say that… You’re selling yourself short,” he says softly. “Besides, I know d@mn well nobody else could do your job half as well as you do.” I roll my eyes. “There are hundreds of nurses in this city alone who could do my job half as well if not better.” He shakes his head. “Oh, so are you telling me all of these other nurses would straddle a dead man and perform CPR on him as soon as he rolled through the doors? Are you telling me these other nurses would literally attack a r@pe victim’s assalient to save her life?” I swallow hard. “I mean–” “No, they wouldn’t… Not many people would do what I saw you do last night, even in their wildest dreams. You’re more than just a nurse Sam. Don’t forget it and don’t keep putting yourself down like that. You’re highly intelligent, you’re brave, and quite frankly, you are the sxiest dam woman I have ever laid eyes on.” I smirk softly and shake my head slowly. “Well… Uhm, thank you. You know… For all that… Uhm, and thank you for rescuing me last night and thank you for giving me a safe place to sleep.” I move to stand up and gather my things. Austin furrows his brow and grabs me by the hand. “Woah, hey, you aren’t leaving just yet, are you? I mean… Uhm… Aren’t you off?” I quirk an eyebrow at him and stick my head to the side. “I am…How did you know?” He chuckles. “I have my ways… Look, I know it seems weird, but just stay for a little bit. Maybe hang out, shoot the bull, catch up on some sleep, or whatever you want to do.” I giggle and shake my head slowly. “Catch up on some sleep, huh?” I smirk and move closer to him as I eye him closely. “Mr. Blackwood, if I stay I highly doubt I will be catching up on my sleep.” I run my eyes down his body quickly before locking my moss green eyes back to his hazel eyes. He chuckles darkly with a heavy smirk. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind, baby girl?” I don’t know why, but his words made my stomach flutter, my legs turn to jelly, and heat pool between my thighs all at once. Thank God I was still wearing panties, but if I had my way, it wouldn’t be that way for too long… I licked my lips and said, “Maybe we can have a hot night.”

Ma gynécologue m'a regardée et m'a dit quelque chose que je n'attendais pas. « Isabelle, ce ventre n'est pas de la graisse. » J'avais 54 ans. Je venais de lui montrer les photos que j'avais prises de moi le mois précédent, lors d'un mariage. Des photos que j'avais demandé à ma fille de supprimer immédiatement. Des photos où je ne me reconnaissais plus. Je n'avais pas changé d'alimentation. Je ne mangeais pas plus qu'avant. Je faisais du yoga trois fois par semaine depuis sept ans. Et pourtant, depuis dix-huit mois, mon ventre avait changé. Pas de façon dramatique. Pas d'un coup. Progressivement. Comme si quelque chose s'était installé sans demander la permission. Un ventre rond, dur, tendu. Pas mou comme de la graisse. Dur. Gonflé. Qui ne partait pas. Le matin, je me levais plate. À midi, je desserrais ma ceinture. Le soir, je portais des tuniques pour cacher ce qui se passait à l'intérieur. J'avais arrêté de porter des robes ajustées. Arrêté de me mettre en maillot de bain sans un paréo. Arrêté d'apparaître sur les photos. — Ma gynécologue a posé les photos sur son bureau. « Ce que vous voyez ici, ce n'est pas du tissu adipeux. C'est de la rétention. De l'inflammation. Votre corps est en train de traverser une transition hormonale majeure — et votre système lymphatique ne suit plus. » Elle m'a expliqué ce que personne ne m'avait jamais dit clairement. À la ménopause, les œstrogènes chutent. Et les œstrogènes jouent un rôle direct dans la régulation du système lymphatique — ce réseau de drainage qui évacue les déchets, les toxines, les liquides en excès de vos tissus. Quand les œstrogènes baissent, le système lymphatique ralentit. Les déchets qui devraient être évacués s'accumulent dans les tissus abdominaux. Les liquides stagnent. L'inflammation s'installe. Et le ventre gonfle — pas parce que vous mangez trop, mais parce que votre corps n'arrive plus à évacuer ce qu'il devrait évacuer. C'est pour ça que ce ventre est dur. Tendu. Résistant à tout. C'est pour ça que le sport ne change rien. Que le régime ne change rien. Que les probiotiques ne changent rien. Vous ne combattez pas de la graisse. Vous combattez un système de drainage qui s'est mis en veille. — J'avais dépensé plus de 1 600 euros en deux ans. Des compléments de drainage lymphatique. Des cures détox. Des probiotiques haut de gamme. Du magnésium. Du curcuma. Des tisanes drainantes. Des séances de massage lymphatique à 75 euros l'heure — que je devais répéter chaque semaine parce que les résultats disparaissaient en quarante-huit heures. J'avais essayé un régime sans gluten pendant trois mois. Sans lactose pendant deux mois. J'avais supprimé l'alcool pendant six semaines. Mon ventre était resté exactement pareil. Et chaque matin, en m'habillant, je ressentais cette même chose difficile à nommer. Pas de la tristesse. Pas vraiment. Plutôt une forme de résignation. Comme si mon corps était devenu quelque chose que je subissais plutôt que quelque chose qui m'appartenait. — « Alors pourquoi rien ne fonctionne ? » Ma gynécologue a pris le temps de répondre. « Parce que vous essayez d'atteindre les tissus profonds par l'estomac. Et ça ne marche pas. » Elle m'a expliqué le problème avec tous les compléments oraux. L'estomac détruit entre 70 et 80 % des principes actifs avant même qu'ils atteignent les tissus ciblés. Ce qui survit se dilue sur plusieurs mètres d'intestin. Au moment où les substances actives arrivent là où la stagnation a lieu — dans les tissus abdominaux profonds, dans les parois lymphatiques — il ne reste presque rien. Et les massages lymphatiques ? Ils déplacent le liquide en surface. Ils ne l'évacuent pas. C'est pour ça que les résultats disparaissent en deux jours. Le liquide revient exactement là où il était. « La seule façon d'atteindre les tissus profonds sans passer par l'estomac, c'est par la peau. » — Elle m'a parlé de l'huile de ricin. Pas comme laxatif — je lui ai dit immédiatement que j'avais essayé ça une fois, des années plus tôt, et que je ne recommencerais jamais. Elle a souri. « Non. Pas par voie orale. Par voie transdermique. Appliquée directement sur la peau abdominale, avec une compression soutenue. » L'huile de ricin contient 90 % d'acide ricinoléique. Un composé lipophile — qui se dissout dans les graisses et peut traverser les couches de peau pour atteindre les tissus sous-jacents. Sans passer par l'estomac. Sans être détruite par l'acidité gastrique. Appliquée sur l'abdomen avec une compression maintenue plusieurs heures, elle stimule mécaniquement la circulation lymphatique locale. Elle réduit l'inflammation des tissus. Elle aide le corps à évacuer ce qui stagne depuis des mois. « Et la nuit est le meilleur moment », a-t-elle ajouté. « Entre 1h et 3h du matin, le foie travaille à son maximum. C'est la fenêtre où le corps essaie naturellement de se nettoyer. Si les canaux sont ouverts à ce moment-là, le drainage se fait vraiment. » J'ai repensé à tous mes réveils nocturnes. Ce cœur qui battait trop vite à 3h du matin. Cette impossibilité de me rendormir. « Six à huit heures de compression nocturne. C'est tout ce qu'il faut. » — Je suis rentrée chez moi et j'ai essayé de reproduire ça moi-même. Acheté de l'huile de ricin biologique en pharmacie. Imbibé un vieux t-shirt. Enroulé du film alimentaire autour de ma taille pour maintenir le tout en place. Désastre complet. L'huile a traversé le tissu en moins d'une heure. Les draps étaient tachés. Le film plastique s'est défait pendant mon sommeil. Je me suis réveillée à 2h du matin avec le tissu remonté sous les côtes et de l'huile partout dans le lit. J'ai essayé trois nuits. Trois nuits de chaos. La quatrième nuit, j'ai cherché une solution plus pratique. — C'est comme ça que j'ai trouvé Onela. Une bouteille d'huile de ricin biologique, pressée à froid, sans hexane. Et une ceinture de compression en coton biologique et bambou — des fibres conçues pour retenir l'huile à pleine concentration sans fuite. Une couche extérieure imperméable pour protéger les draps. Des sangles réglables qui restent en place toute la nuit, quelle que soit la position de sommeil. Pas de film plastique. Pas de bricolage. Pas de désordre. Trois minutes avant de se coucher. On applique l'huile sur l'abdomen. On met la ceinture. On dort. C'est tout. — La première semaine, mon transit s'est régularisé. Pas de façon brutale. Une évacuation progressive, quotidienne. Comme si quelque chose se remettait doucement en mouvement après avoir été immobile trop longtemps. Mon ventre était moins lourd après les repas. Je respirais mieux en fin de journée. La deuxième semaine, j'ai fait quelque chose que je n'avais pas fait depuis deux ans. Je me suis regardée de profil dans le miroir après le dîner. Mon ventre était plat. Pas plus plat qu'avant le repas. Plat. J'ai attendu. J'ai mangé normalement. Et le lendemain matin, pareil. Je suis restée assise sur le bord du lit quelques minutes. Pas de tension. Pas de pression. Pas besoin de desserrer quoi que ce soit. La troisième semaine — la semaine où toutes mes cures précédentes s'effondraient — rien n'est revenu. Pour la première fois depuis dix-huit mois, j'avais dépassé la troisième semaine sans rechute. — Les réveils à 3h du matin ont disparu à la quatrième semaine. Complètement. Je dormais toute la nuit. Un sommeil profond, continu. Je me réveillais reposée — vraiment reposée. À la cinquième semaine, le brouillard mental a commencé à se lever. Un matin, j'ai animé une réunion de deux heures sans perdre le fil une seule fois. J'ai retrouvé mes mots. Cette sensation de coton dans la tête avait disparu. Une collègue m'a demandé si j'avais changé de coiffure. « Non. » « Tu as l'air différente. Plus légère. » Je n'ai pas su quoi répondre. À la sixième semaine, les jambes lourdes en fin de journée avaient disparu. Mon humeur était plus stable. J'avais perdu quatre kilos sans changer mon alimentation, sans ajouter une seule séance de sport. — J'avais commandé deux packs. J'ai offert le second à ma sœur, qui traversait exactement la même chose depuis un an. Cinq jours plus tard, elle m'a appelée. « Isabelle. C'est quoi ce truc ? » Je me suis mise à rire. « Pourquoi ? » « J'ai dormi toute la nuit. D'une traite. Mon mari l'a remarqué avant même que j'en parle. » « Je sais. » C'est tout ce que j'ai répondu. « Je sais. » Parce qu'à ce stade, je comprenais exactement ce qu'elle ressentait. — Trois mois plus tard, je suis retournée voir ma gynécologue pour mon bilan annuel. Elle m'a regardée entrer dans son cabinet. Elle a souri avant même que je m'assoie. « Vous avez l'air différente. » Je lui ai raconté. Elle a sorti son téléphone avant que j'aie terminé. Elle a noté le nom. Onela. « Pour mes autres patientes », a-t-elle dit. — Aujourd'hui, je comprends ce qui s'était passé. Mon ventre n'était pas de la graisse. Il n'avait jamais été de la graisse. C'était mon système lymphatique qui avait ralenti avec la chute des œstrogènes. Des déchets qui stagnaient dans mes tissus abdominaux au lieu d'être évacués. Une inflammation silencieuse qui se propageait — ventre, jambes, sommeil, énergie, humeur. Et personne ne me l'avait dit clairement avant. Parce que ça n'apparaît pas sur les analyses classiques. Parce que la médecine conventionnelle cherche des maladies. Pas des systèmes qui ralentissent. La réponse n'était pas dans un régime de plus. Pas dans un complément de plus. Pas dans une séance de massage de plus. Elle était par la peau. Pendant que je dormais. — Si vous vous reconnaissez dans cette histoire... Si votre ventre a changé depuis la ménopause malgré une alimentation correcte et du sport régulier. Si ce ventre est dur, tendu, résistant à tout. Si vous vous réveillez épuisée malgré des nuits complètes. Si les compléments ont fonctionné deux semaines puis se sont effondrés. Si vous avez arrêté de porter certains vêtements. Arrêté d'apparaître sur les photos. Alors écoutez-moi. Ce n'est peut-être pas votre faute. Ce n'est peut-être pas l'âge. Votre système lymphatique essaie peut-être simplement de vous dire qu'il a besoin d'aide. Et il existe une façon de l'aider. Par la peau. Pendant que vous dormez. Sans pilules. Sans régime. Sans abonnement mensuel. — Le Pack Détox Onela est disponible via le lien ci-dessous. Huile de ricin bio pressée à froid + ceinture de compression nocturne en coton biologique. Livraison offerte. Garantie satisfait ou remboursée 90 jours. Si vous ne constatez aucun changement, vous êtes remboursée intégralement. Sans question. Les stocks sont limités. Si le produit est encore disponible quand vous lisez ceci, c'est le bon moment.