CHAPTER 330: WHISPERING AGAINST THE SHORE (3)

Security nearly tore him off his feet as Nick lunged forward. "Let me go, you jerks! I’m her husband, she’s my wife!" he bellowed, voice raw and dangerous, every syllable shaking the ICU corridor.

A nurse stepped between him and the closed doors, palms up. "Sir, please, there are other patients. Lower your voice." Her calm was brittle under the tension.

Vicky arrived a heartbeat later, breathless, eyes blazing. She pushed through the small crowd to the hallway outside of ICU and looked to the doctor for answers.

The doctor, gray at the temples and iron in his tone, didn’t soften. "The patient told us she has no husband," he said, voice clipped with professional distance. "She said it was the eve of her wedding last night and that she was pushed overboard and left in the ocean. My first duty is to protect her, legally and medically."

Nick’s hands curled into fists. "Be thankful you’re her doctor." He spat the words as though they tasted of blood. "I swear to God, if you’re someone else, I would’ve already punched you to the face!"

"You’re threatening me," the doctor cut in, nostrils flaring. "You must be involved." The accusation landed like a blow. The hallway hummed with the weight of it.

Vicky raised both hands, one toward Nick and the other toward the doctor, a practiced peacemaker in the storm. "Everyone, calm down. The police are on their way. Let them sort this out; they will explain that we have been searching for her since yesterday." Her voice trembled but held.

The doctor’s jaw tightened. "She’s reported only one family member." His eyes flicked to the patient’s chart as if it were gospel. "Until the authorities verify identities, I can’t let unknown people through."

"You’re talking about Katie," Vicky shot back, heat rising in her cheeks. "I am Georgia’s sister-in-law. This man—" she pointed at Nick, steadier now— "is her husband."

The doctor’s expression hardened into professional refusal. "Miss, she’s in the ICU. She said she has no husband, and her wedding is scheduled for today. That means she is not married yet."

Vicky’s hands dropped, and for a moment, frustration and helplessness warred across her face. "This is useless. Let’s wait for the police." She turned to Nick, voice low but firm. "We’ll get in through the proper way. Don’t give them reasons to keep us out. They’re just doing their job after all."

Ella stepped forward before Nick could explode again. Her tone was calm but firm, the kind that demanded to be heard. "Doctor, please," she said, hands clasped in front of her. "We’re not asking to go inside. We’re just... worried about my best friend. While we wait for the police, can you at least tell us her condition? We just need to know if she’s safe."

The doctor hesitated. His sharp professionalism faltered as he studied Ella’s face. Something in her voice, raw, pleading, cut through the tension. With a slow exhale, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"You said she’s your best friend?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes. I’m Isabella Collins," Ella said, meeting his eyes steadily.

The doctor’s expression shifted, softening just a little. "She gave your name as one of her emergency contacts and as her guardian," he said, almost to himself. Then, after a pause, "Alright. You may come with me. I’ll explain her condition privately."

Nick’s head snapped up. "What? Why only her—"

But before he could step forward, Vicky caught his arm. "Nick," she whispered sharply, "don’t. Let her go. Ella can find out what’s happening without making this worse."

He clenched his jaw, chest heaving, but he stayed where he was. The veins in his neck stood out from the strain of holding himself back.

Ella turned to them, her expression a mix of fear and resolve. "I’ll find out everything," she promised. "I’ll be back as soon as I know."

Nick nodded, though his throat felt too tight to speak. He watched helplessly as Ella followed the doctor down the corridor toward the ICU doors. The moment they disappeared, a heavy silence fell between him and Vicky, broken only by the distant murmurs of the staff.

"What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath, voice filled with exhaustion and fury. His hands raked through his hair, trembling from the adrenaline crash.

Vicky glanced at him, worry etched in every line of her face. "Nick," she said quietly, "I don’t want to say this, but... it sounds like what she told the doctor wasn’t about what happened last night."

Nick’s eyes snapped to hers. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Vicky continued carefully, "it sounds like she was talking about the first time she experienced being left at the sea, when Nancy pushed her from the cruise ship. If that’s the memory she woke up with..." She didn’t finish, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

Nick froze. The color drained from his face. His breathing quickened, uneven, as realization hit him like a storm. "No," he whispered, voice cracking. "No, that can’t be, she can’t have forgotten everything since then... What the fuck! This is not some kind of novel or drama series!"

He pressed both hands over his face and dragged them down, releasing a shaky breath. The walls felt like they were closing in. Every second Ella spent inside felt like a lifetime.

Vicky reached out and gently touched his arm. "We’ll figure it out, Nick. But brace yourself... because if she really doesn’t remember, you’ll need to start over."

Nick lowered his hands and stared blankly at the closed ICU doors. His heart was pounding in his chest like a war drum. For the first time in years, he felt utterly powerless—trapped between fear and hope.

All he could do was wait.

Vicky gently grabbed his arms and made him sit on the hallway benches as they waited.

"Vicky, it’s okay. I don’t care anymore if she forgets me. As long as she’s safe, I’ll accept whatever condition she’s in," Nick uttered, but deep inside, he was praying, praying that it was just a misunderstanding and that Georgia was just in a state of confusion.