It is on days like these that I regret quitting my job at the hospital, but then again, I wasn't going to be able to continue my practice there—not only because I was not allowed, but also because I couldn't.

A man sits in front of me with the guard standing behind him, making sure he doesn't do anything. His name is George and I hate his guts. He is so rude and disrespectful. The first time he saw me, he couldn't but comment on my body.

Pervert.

I give him the monthly shot he takes and sends him on his way. George is one of the reasons I hate coming here, but when I look back at all the patients I befriended, I feel happy and grateful.

I never had a family that really supported me. My parents only care about their image and money, while my brother, Andrew, and my sister, Sarah, live their own lives just like I am doing. I don't really blame them for not reaching out to me and supporting my decision to work at the prison because I know what it's like to have parents like ours.

I walk back to my desk when another guard walks in. "Dr. Wright, I have prisoner number 581. He says he's in pain."

"Okay, send him in quickly," I reply with furrowed eyebrows.

Prisoner number 581 is Manuel Santos. He is one of the people that I befriended in prison. I am close to him enough to know that he is a good person. I still don't know what he did and I never asked him. What could he have done worst than my crime that no one knew about?

The guard enters again, but this time, with Mr. Santos.

"You can leave," I tell the guard.

"Ma'am, I am not allowed to leave you alone with him," the guard replies, making my blood boil.

"I think you're new here, this is my office and I decide who stays and who leaves," I say harshly, glaring at him.

He hesitantly nods and leaves the room.

"That was a little harsh," Manuel says.

"Are you okay, Mr. Wright?" I ask, ignoring his comment.

"Oh, I am fine, darling, and how many times will I have to tell you to call me dad or uncle? You're my segunda hija."

"Sorry, dad," I shyly say.

My heart warms at what he said. Not even my own father was that gentle with me.

"So, nothing's hurting you?"

"No."

"Then why you're here, if you don't mind me asking?" I ask, sitting beside him on the couch.

He looks intently at me and sighs as if he's contemplating whether to tell me or not. I have never seen this look on his face before and I feel that it isn't something that I am going to like.

"Uncle?" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

Is it that hard to tell me?

"Mi hija, I am leaving prison."

My eyes widen as happiness wash over me. "Oh my god, you're being let out?"

He avoids looking at my eyes, which makes my smile drop.

"No, mi hija," he replies, now looking into my eyes. "I am escaping."

This time, my eyes widen in shock and fear. Manuel Santos, the boss of the Spanish mafia, is escaping prison and he's telling me.

He trusted me enough to tell me about his plan.

"Why...why are you telling me this?" I ask, my breathing getting heavier by the second.

"Because I need your help."

"I-I can't help you, uncle," I whisper. "How would I even do that."

"Look, I don't want to put you in a rough situation, but you are the only person who could help us."

"Us?" I exclaim.

"My two boys are here with me as well. Have been for a month. They came to rescue me."

"Uncle...I c-can't..."

"All you need to do is forget to lock your door."

"May I ask what you did to be here?" I ask, ignoring what he said, or rather not commenting on it.

He sighs heavily before saying, "I didn't do anything. I am here because I was set up, and because of my name."

"So, will you help us?" He asks when I didn't say anything.

I look into his fatherly eyes and couldn't help but nod. "I will help you, uncle, but only because you're like a father to me."

"And you call me uncle." He scoffs.

I smile sheepishly at him.

"Now may I ask why you decided to help me when you know that you might get in trouble?"

"When I think about it, I'd rather help a mafia boss than the police," I say, making him chuckle.

"Smart girl," he says with a smile. "Now, I won't pressure you for this, but I'd like to offer you a job when I get out."

"A-A job?"

"Yes. I'd like you to work for my mafia...as their doctor. Just think about it, you don't have to answer me now."

"Thanks, uncle."

"It's weird...the guards didn't come to check on you," I add in confusion.

"Oh, that's because my boys are giving them a hard time so I could take my time." He smiles, giving my a pat on the shoulder. "I will see you soon, mi hija."

"When are you...leaving?"

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow night."

* * *

It is the next day. I arrived early to prison.

I gave George his daily shot and sat doing nothing.

I start to get nervous thinking about what will happen tonight. A part of me hopes it works out for them and they escape. The other part says that I shouldn't help them and instead, should tell the police about their plan.

But I can't do that.

Manuel Santos is a father figure to me, even if I met him a few months ago. When he first came here, he had a heart problem. If I wasn't a surgeon, he would have been dead now. I had to request the prison to give me equipment to perform a surgery on him. They didn't agree at first, saying that he is to be transferred to the hospital, but Manuel didn't agree. It was either me, or no one.

He was the first patient I did a surgery on after quitting Life Hospital, and it will be the last.

I am still shook that I didn't shake while performing the surgery. I have trauma and I don't think it will go anytime soon.

If he hadn't insisted on me doing the surgery, I wouldn't have done it.

When the shift ended, I left the door open just like he requested. I am scared that the chief will find out that I purposely let the door open, but I would tell them that it was an honest mistake. After all, how would they escape their cells and where are the guards?

I reach my apartment and walk in.

Placing my stuff on the side table beside the door, I make my way to the kitchen, and prepare dinner.

I try to take my mind off Manuel's plan, but I couldn't. I am too afraid and I pray that he'll escape safely.

The fact that he told me his plan willingly and considered me as his daughter, makes me feel special. If he had killed an innocent person or committed other crimes, like crimes against women and children, I would have told the chief about his plan. But he was set up. But again, he's a mafia boss and I am sure he did a lot of horrible things.

But I couldn't say no. I couldn't not help him. He is the father I wish I have.

As selfish as it sounds.

* * *

The next day, I received a call from the chief of Central Prison. I immediately made my way to his office as soon as I reached.

He had five police officers with him, discussing god knows what.

"What happened?" I ask, acting stupid.

"Ana, three prisoners escaped prison through your room, which was unlocked for the first time! Care to explain that?" The chief yells.

"Are you insinuating that I helped them escape?" I gasp, making him avoid my eyes. "How could you! I forgot to lock the door and it isn't the first time. I think you should address your guards who are supposed to guard them!"

"Ana, these are dangerous people! Please tell me you had nothing to do with it, considering that your were close with Manuel Santos."

I try to calm myself down but my heart doesn't help.

"I had nothing to do with it, sir. My job here is to save lives and I gave an oath, did you forget?"

He nods hesitantly before saying, "I trust you, Ana. You can go back to your room."

"Thank you, sir."

With that, I leave his office and walk to mine. A part of me is still afraid that they'd find out what I did, but the other part is very happy that Manuel's escape was successful.

A guard walks into my office with George trailing behind him, handcuffed.

"Sit down," I say, rolling my eyes.

I give him his daily shot and send him back. George's body suffers from low vitamins and nutrients. He doesn't eat much. We used to give him serums, but he stopped taking them, saying that they take too much of his time. So instead, I designed these shots for him.

When I finished my shift, I drive back home.

My apartment is thirty minutes away from my workplace. It's a good and a bad thing. Good because when I go back home I forget everything about work and the neighborhood is entirely different. Bad because there's too much traffic in the morning.

I place the key into the keyhole and twist the handle, opening the door.

Weird...I left one light on.

I turn on the lights and turn around, only to be met with four figures, one of them extremely hot.

* * *