Chapter One
Isabella opened her eyes again and looked over at her alarm clock, hoping the numbers had magically changed while she wasn’t looking. They hadn’t. She had slept a total of four hours off and on the night before her first day as a surgical intern.
Around four thirty in the morning, she decided there was no point in trying to sleep anymore. She got up, turned on the coffee maker, laced up her shoes, and went for a quick run to shake out the nerves.
It was still dark, and most of the world was still tucked into bed, preparing for the new week. As she traversed the streets around her new one-bedroom apartment, she tried to create some sort of mental image of her day to put herself at ease. However, this was difficult because she didn’t know what to expect.
Sure, they tell you all about residency programs in medical school. She knew the different programs and ranks she would have to go through to finally become a real surgeon.
Despite being the top of her class in medical school, Isabella felt extremely unprepared for this next challenge. She would have more responsibilities, and she was terrified of making a mistake.
As long as she could remember, Isabella Carter was always the know-it-all. Since the first day of kindergarten when she’d picked up the most challenging book in the classroom and read it aloud to a group of envious peers, she had the reputation of being a try-hard. She was naturally gifted, but she also worked hard in school. This combination propelled her to the top of the class year after year.
Medical school was no different. The class schedule and rotations were exponentially more demanding, but she did little else besides study medicine. When her classmates were going to the bar after class and commiserating about their dismal test scores, Isabella was in the library, studying for the next test.
As she rounded the corner to turn around and go back home, the dread that had momentarily dissipated crept back up. The first day of school was always nerve-wracking, but in an exciting way. This was more like the first day of work, something she didn’t have much experience with.
Because of the constant stream of alimony checks coming in from her mother’s former husbands, there was never a need to work. While her peers were working in retail shops or serving coffees to housewives, Isabella was studying for assignments that hadn’t even been given yet. In fact, Husband #4 had generously contributed a large sum of money to her education fund. She never needed to worry about working nights just to pay rent. While her contemporaries were deep in debt with student loans, she was able to pocket all of her meager salary.
She did her best to hide that she had ample funds to pay her way through school. If one resentful poor student discovered her secret, they would all know. If they weren’t annoyed at her for consistently getting the highest scores on their exams, knowing that she didn’t have to work would set them over the edge. She didn’t require a lot of friends, but it was best not to have a hundred or so enemies.
Besides, it was embarrassing to explain why she had so much money in the first place. Her mother had Isabella while married to Husband #2, but he was not so into monogamy, so that relationship promptly ended. Her father was an artistic man—someone who never really grew out of his hippy phase. Her mom really dug his long hair and philosophical discussions about life, but when she caught him in bed with a couple of strangers, she’d had enough of his “free love” ways.
In the short time that they knew each other, Jackson Carter unintentionally taught his daughter a life lesson. Don’t count on a man to get you anywhere in life.
Of course, that lesson never really stuck with Isabella’s mother, and she went on to marry and divorce a laundry list of characters. She did learn that life got easier the richer your husband was.
Isabella returned home, feeling no better than she did when she woke up. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. She imagined that her fellow interns were just starting to hit snooze on their alarms. She took a hot shower in an attempt to loosen up her tense muscles. She was prone to stressing out and was starting to work on relaxing more. Her high levels of stress powered her through school, but they left her in ill health from time to time.
As a graduation gift, Isabella’s mother paid for several sessions with a therapist. All she learned from these visits was that she was a little too tightly wound, and she was given a list of exercises to do when she was stressed. It would have been more satisfying to hear that her mother had really done a number on her and that she needed counseling to move on in life. At least that would give her proof to show her mother the next time she brought home a new marriage prospect.
Isabella wrapped a towel around her dripping body and looked in the foggy mirror. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five. Exhale. She watched her face soften as she entered her trance. Her cerulean eyes were unblinking as she continued to take deep breaths. Her long, chestnut hair dripped onto the tile floor. She was starting to feel relaxed when she was jolted back to reality by the harsh tones of her alarm clock. If she had managed to sleep, she would have woken up then, rested and ready to go.
Instead, she poured herself a second cup of coffee with her bowl of oatmeal. It didn’t help her nervous jitters, but at least she would be alert during orientation. All new interns were required to be at the hospital by seven thirty, and she wanted to get there with plenty of time to spare.
As she was drying her hair, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Jordan.
What are you wearing today? I hope they let us change into scrubs. I can hardly squeeze my
ass into any of my dress pants.
Isabella smiled. She was glad that she had at least one familiar face in the hospital. Jordan was a good friend, and most importantly, she didn’t see Isabella as a threat. Jordan was by no means at the top of the class, but she worked hard and got through med school just fine.
I’m wearing my black pants and lilac blouse. I’m straightening my hair as we speak, but we both know it’s going up in a bun about thirty seconds after we get there.
Isabella was one of the fortunate few to look good without a lot of work. She never spent more than fifteen minutes getting ready in the morning. She thought best when her hair was up and out of her face, and she didn’t see the point in wearing a lot of makeup. She had grown to like the light smattering of freckles on her swarthy skin, which were always more pronounced after spending a few hours in the sun. She had definitely inherited her mother’s Italian features, but she didn’t wear the makeup to define them like her mom. Her effortless beauty still caught the attention of men, despite the fact that she often wasn’t looking for it.
Isabella credited her good behavior for much of her success in school. She had a few casual hookups from time to time, but nothing serious. She had witnessed female classmates change majors or drop out of school to get married and have kids. No way would she ever put anyone else above her own career. She laughed at the girls who failed tests after spending the weekend at the vineyard or wherever with their boyfriends. Didn’t they know that there would be nothing left for them once their relationship goes south?
She got another text from Jordan as she was putting on her shoes. She still had another thirty minutes before she needed to leave, so she was sitting anxiously on the edge of her couch.
I feel like I’m going to throw up. How are you not nervous? I had to take a second shower because I’m sweating buckets over here. I’m so jealous of how chill you are all the time.
Isabella grimaced. She was glad that she gave the impression of calm and collected while in reality, her anxiety levels were through the roof. She replied:
I’m a little nervous, but in a good way. I’m excited to get started.