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GISELLE
Dr. Giselle Carlisle stood outside Phoenix Ridge General Hospital, staring up at the name etched into the glass door. It was nowhere near as large as Oscar Hoppins back in Boston.
There weren’t any oversized double doors or frosted film text etched on the walls. Everything was quieter here.
Giselle sighed.
This was exactly what she needed.
The doors slid open and she walked in. She paused to glance around. For a hospital that appeared pretty quaint on the outside, it boasted a rather expansive hallway with bright lights gleaming off of every surface.
A handful of white-coated doctors hurried past her, all talking to each other. No high-end politicians were strutting around the waiting areas, and no one with a little blog was clamoring to interview a world-renowned doctor.
Her father would’ve hated it.
Good thing he’s not here.
Giselle didn’t care enough to chuckle. She moved quickly through the corridors, keeping her eyes fixed in front of her. She had no interest in acknowledging passing smiles.
She slowed down.
There hadn’t been a single “Good morning, Dr. Nova” as she made her way down the hallway. No one was smiling at her simply because they wanted to be in her father’s good graces.
No one even seemed to recognize her at all.
As strange as it sounded, it felt just perfect. For the first time since she’d set foot in Phoenix Ridge, Giselle flashed a real smile.
After years of living as Dr. Nova’s daughter, she could finally be just Dr. Giselle Carlisle. Everything she’d worked for wouldbe seen as her own success instead of something that had been handed to her because she was a famous surgeon’s daughter.
“Good morning,” some smiley-faced nurse said as she walked past her.
Giselle ignored the voice, her shoes tapping steadily on the tile as she continued walking. There was nothing anyone could say that she wanted to hear. She hadn’t come here to make friends, and she wasn’t going to get sucked into meaningless conversations.
Not again. Not after what had happened last time.
“Your office will be all the way down the hall. The last door to your right,” Dr. Josephine Mars had told her on the phone when they spoke earlier.
She paused for a second, her hand resting on the doorknob. The plaque on the door read “DR. GISELLE NOVA.”
She frowned.She had wanted the anonymity of Carlisle, not the renowned surgical name of Nova.
Her mind wandered back to Oscar Hoppins, to everything she’d left behind in Boston. That chapter was closed.
Giselle twisted the handle and stepped inside.
Everything was plain, just like she’d requested. The office had beige walls and a single, narrow window. A sleek, dark wood desk sat against the wall opposite the door.
Giselle’s eyes drifted to the documents stacked neatly on the desk next to the computer.
She’d wanted simplicity, and now she had it. But it wasn’t right. The space felt too impersonal, almost suffocating in its emptiness. She’d thought she’d prefer a more neutral tone—something that would detach her from the memories of her old office at Oscar Hoppins.
Her last office had been filled with warm, rose-colored tones, with bookshelves and framed degrees covering the walls. She’d hated it by the end. It wasn’t hers, only a reflection of her parents’ expectations.
Now, staring at the dull beige, she wondered if she’d gone too far. These walls offered no comfort.
Giselle pictured herself looking out at the bustling city, the steel and glass shimmering under the sun. She brushed herfingers over the desk’s surface, not thinking, just moving.