Page 51 of Billionaire’s Ruin

“Can’t picture you as a superstitious person.”

“I’m not.” The corner of my mouth quirked up. “Not really. But after the pandemic, it’s hard not to be.”

“Why? More people were trying to conceive?”

“No, not really. My clinic had to close because we didn’t have enough people helping.”

“Oh no,” he paused, his brows pulling together, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. You couldn’t have guessed.”

“No…” he hesitated, then added, “actually, I did know you were working on the front line.”

“You did? How?”

Dannie shrugged, his gaze half-rolling back.

A sign.

A familiar one.

One I had let slide too many times before.

“Dannie, you said you weren’t stalking me.”

“Stalking is a strong word, missy.” His gaze hooked onto mine, sharp and teasing.

“Right, fine. Care to explain further?” I pressed, though a part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“I partly owned a company that made supplies,” he said, coughing as he choked on a gulp of water. After a few seconds, he continued, “At the time, we had a strict rule—only supply to local hospitals. But then we received an order from the U.S., your hospital, from your father.”

“The purchasing team normally handles that. Dad doesn’t place orders himself.”

“Our team was ready to reject it. But when I saw your surname on the paperwork,” he smiled faintly, the kind that carried both guilt and fondness. “So I called and asked to speak with Dr. Bennet. Long story short… that’s how I found out everything.”

“What about the strict rule?”

“I broke it.”

“Because of me?”

I studied his face carefully, but it stayed neutral.

“Yes.” His tone turned flat, almost stoic. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve broken rules.”

“So, you’re saying you indirectly saved my life again… and I didn’t even know it?”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“No, it’s not. Not just me—my family, my colleagues, my patients. We owe you. I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble.”

“Nah. It was nothing, really.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” My voice trembled just slightly. “We were getting desperate. We couldn’t get PPE anywhere—we had to make our own. My mother and her friends were hand-sewing face covers because they didn’t own sewing machines. Even those were sold out.”

I hadn’t openly talked about the pandemic. Not about what it had done to me as a doctor… or as a person.

My cousin, Joey Bennet—a nurse in the emergency department—was among the first to die.