Still at Emmanuel's General Hospital.
"Bri, what a piece of work."
"You don't know the half of it," Amanda muttered.
"Who was that?" Bri frowned.
Amanda hesitated.
"My cousin… Valentina Rocca."
The name settled in Bri's mind like a bad taste.
"Explains the attitude," she muttered, turning back to her work.
Valentina Rocca was not used to being ignored. She had always prided herself on her sharp memory—faces, names, voices—every detail locked in her mind like pieces of a puzzle.
Yet no matter how many times she replayed what had happened earlier, Brianna Marcos remained an enigma.
Valentina had met countless people in her life, but Bri's stormy green eyes lingered in her thoughts like a haunting melody she couldn't place.
At first, Valentina told herself it was nothing.
A passing curiosity.
But the more she replayed that sharp wit and quiet defiance, the more Brianna felt like a challenge.
And Valentina loved challenges.
The first bouquet arrived on Tuesday.
Bri barely looked up from her chart when Amanda placed the red and white roses on the counter in front of her.
"For you," she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she leaned against the wall.
Bri frowned.
"Why?" Bri asked, eyeing the bouquet suspiciously.
Amanda's lips curved into a mischievous smile, her voice dripping with mock innocence.
"Oh, come on, Bri. Don't tell me you don't know who this is from."
Before Bri could respond, Amanda reached into the arrangement and pulled out a small white card. She held it between her fingers for a second, savoring the moment, then handed it over.
"Go on," she teased.
Bri hesitated, then took the card. She flipped it open and read the neat, elegant handwriting inside.
To the nurse who made my night… interesting.
— Valentina
Bri's brows shot up, then quickly drew together in irritation.
"Seriously?" she muttered under her breath.
Amanda folded her arms, clearly enjoying the reaction.
"Well," she said lightly, "looks like someone made quite an impression."
Bri let out an annoyed breath, staring at the bouquet as if it had personally offended her.
"How does she even think this is appropriate?" she scoffed. "Sending me flowers like this… as if I'm supposed to be flattered."
Yet despite her irritation, her eyes drifted back to the card in her hand.
Yet despite her irritation, her eyes drifted back to the card in her hand.
That was when she noticed it.
At the bottom of the card, written in the same neat, confident handwriting, was a phone number.
Bri's expression tightened.
"Unbelievable," she muttered, shaking her head slightly.
Amanda leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse.
"What now?" she asked, curiosity dancing in her eyes.
Bri held up the card, pointing at the number.
"She left her phone number," she said flatly.
Amanda let out a low whistle.
"Well, that's bold," she said, clearly amused. "I like her style."
Bri shot her a look.
"I don't," she replied curtly.
Still, her fingers lingered on the card a second longer than necessary, her gaze fixed on the number as if it carried more weight than she cared to admit.
By Friday, the deliveries were impossible to ignore.
After a week of relentless gestures, Bri had practically memorized the phone number that accompanied every single card.
This time, it wasn't flowers.
It was a giant teddy bear.
It sat proudly at the nurses' station, drawing attention from everyone who passed by. A ribbon was tied neatly around its neck, and a gleaming envelope was pinned to its chest.
Amanda saw it first and burst into laughter.
"Oh, this is priceless!" she exclaimed.
Bri froze, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"What is that?" she demanded.
Amanda walked closer to the bear and plucked the envelope from its chest.
"Well, well," she said dramatically. "You've officially entered romance territory, Bri."
Bri snatched the card from her immediately, irritation flashing across her face.
She opened it and read the handwritten note.
To the woman who is harder to win over than an army of men…
Challenge accepted.
— Valentina
"Oh, God," Bri groaned, shoving the card back into the envelope.
Amanda grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying every second of the situation.
"Just wait," she teased. "Next, she'll start writing you poetry."
Valentina Rocca sat behind her massive mahogany desk, the city skyline stretching endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of her office.
The room was silent—too silent.
Stacks of reports lay untouched before her, her attention drifting elsewhere. Every few seconds, her eyes flicked toward the sleek phone resting beside her hand.
A notification sound broke the stillness.
Her gaze snapped to the screen instantly.
For a brief moment, something almost hopeful flashed across her face.
She picked up the phone and unlocked it.
Not Brianna.
Just another business message.
Her jaw tightened slightly as she set the phone back down, irritation simmering beneath her calm exterior.
Across the room, her right-hand man, Luca, noticed the movement. He leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, watching her with quiet amusement.
"You've checked that phone five times in the last ten minutes," he said.
Valentina didn't look up.
"I am expecting an important message," she replied coolly.
Luca raised an eyebrow.
"From the hospital?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
Silence.
That silence was answer enough.
Another notification chimed.
Again, Valentina reached for the phone immediately—faster this time.
She read the message.
Again, not Brianna.
A slow breath escaped her nose, controlled but heavy with frustration.
For someone who commanded armies of men, negotiated million-dollar deals, and crushed rivals without hesitation, this waiting felt strangely unbearable.
Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment.
Then, almost without thinking, she opened the conversation thread.
The last message she had sent still sat there, unanswered.
No reply.
Her expression hardened.
"She's ignoring me," Valentina muttered quietly.
Luca smirked.
"Or," he said carefully, "she's making you work for it."
Valentina's eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at the silent screen.
A slow, dangerous smile formed on her lips.
"Good," she said.
Her voice was low, confident, and filled with determination.
"I enjoy a challenge."
The following Monday at Emmanuel's General Hospital, the nurses' station buzzed with unusual excitement.
The hallway was filled with flowers.
Bouquets of every color lined the counters, the tables, even the window ledges. The air carried a rich, sweet fragrance that drifted through the entire ward, drawing curious glances from patients and staff alike.
Brianna stepped into the hallway and froze.
Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the overwhelming scene.
"What is happening here?" she asked, her voice filled with confusion.
One of the nurses turned toward her, smiling brightly as she held up her own bouquet.
"Well," the nurse said playfully, "looks like someone has a serious crush on you."
A ripple of laughter spread through the station.
Bri frowned, her gaze sweeping across the sea of flowers—until something caught her attention.
One bouquet stood out from the rest.
It was larger than the others, arranged with striking elegance, tied with a satin ribbon. A small card rested neatly among the petals.
Her name was written clearly on it.
Brianna.
Her stomach tightened.
Slowly, she walked toward the bouquet, aware of every pair of eyes watching her. She reached out, took the envelope, and opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
She read silently.
I hope your colleagues enjoy the flowers.
But my favorite nurse still owe me a call.
–Valentina.
Bri's jaw clenched as she lowered the card, her cheeks warming with a mix of embarrassment and irritation.
Around her, the nurses exchanged knowing looks, their smiles widening.
Amanda leaned closer, her voice dripping with amusement.
"I never thought I'd say this, but I just got flowers from my cousin. Gross."
"Well," she whispered, "I think she's not giving up anytime soon."
Bri waved the card at Amanda, her frustration clearly written across her face.
"What is wrong with her?" she demanded. "I am not calling her."
Amanda only shrugged, trying hard not to laugh.
The rest of the Monday shift became unbearable.
Everywhere Bri turned, the same topic followed her.
At the nurses' station, in the hallway, even in the break room—the only thing she heard was talk about Valentina.
"How romantic," one nurse sighed dreamily, Bri should give her a chance.
"I wish someone would send me flowers like that," another added.
"She must really like you," someone else teased.
Bri pressed her lips together, pretending to focus on her work, but irritation simmered beneath the surface.
By the end of the day, one thing was painfully clear.
Valentina had turned the entire hospital against her—without even being there.
Brianna left work with one thought:
Valentina's persistence will only make her go crazy.