The story of how a nurse learned an unexpected truth about the patient she was caring for.

 

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…

 

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…

 

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…

 

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…

 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the immaculate white corridors of the Pecherskaya Private Cardiology Clinic. Anna Kovalenko walked along them, as she had done hundreds of times before. She had worked as a nurse on this floor for almost two years, but today everything seemed… different. Something was in the air.

Anxiety had been lodged in her chest the moment she was suddenly summoned. The office of Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko, head of neurology. Why? Had she made a mistake, missed something important? Or was she about to be transferred to another department? Anna forced herself to take a deep breath, calming her nerves, and knocked on the heavy, polished mahogany door with her knuckles. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. Pavel Ivanovich Lisenko stood by the panoramic window, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, which usually sharply and attentively assessed the staff, was distant today. He stared off into the distance, at the Kyiv panorama. The office was stuffy. The mixture of sterile hand sanitizer and the expensive leather of the chairs seemed thick, and the atmosphere itself was much more oppressive than usual. “Anna,” he said, finally turning around.

His voice was even, but it held a seriousness she’d rarely heard before. “We’ve got a patient. He requires… well, a special approach. This job isn’t for the easily discouraged.” Anna frowned in confusion.

“Not for the easily discouraged?” she asked carefully. “Who is this patient?” Lisenko gave her a long, unreadable look, then nodded at the thick medical chart lying on his desk. “Gleb Tkachenko,” he said.

The name struck like thunder. Anna’s breath caught for a moment. Gleb Tkachenko.  That same  Gleb Tkachenko. Even if the name hadn’t immediately set off alarm bells, the cover of the folder would have left no doubt. Attached to it was a black-and-white newspaper clipping detailing a horrific car accident.

A year has passed since the capital’s youngest billionaire was involved in that horrific accident. His exclusive sports car plunged off a bridge in the middle of the night. He’s been in a coma ever since. Yet, before, his name was a constant presence on the front pages.

Gleb Tkachenko: the brilliant, ruthless, and seemingly invulnerable head of the Tkachenko Corporation. A man who had single-handedly built an entire empire by the age of thirty-two. And now? He was nothing more than a ghost, a living mind trapped in his own lifeless body.

“His family visits him extremely rarely,” Pavel Ivanovich continued, bringing Anna back to reality. “And most of the staff… well, they carry out the necessary procedures simply because that’s what they’re supposed to do. But this man needs someone truly devoted.” He paused. “Someone who will… care.”

Anna bit her lip. She heard unspoken weariness and doubt in his voice. “And you believe that this person is me?” Lisenko nodded firmly. “I believe so.”

Anna slowly exhaled. It was undoubtedly a daunting task. She was about to nurse a man who might never wake again. A man whose immense wealth and power had once determined the fates of thousands. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew what she would say even before she opened her mouth.

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.” Pavel Ivanovich’s lips formed a stern, thin line, but a glimmer of approval flickered in his eyes. “Good. Your shift starts today.”

The luxury ward on the clinic’s top floor greeted her with eerie silence when Anna entered that evening. This space was nothing like the cold, sterile cubicles on the other floors. Everything here was designed for luxury: a spacious layout, soft, subdued chandeliers, and heavy dark oak furniture.

And there, in the very center of it all, lay Gleb Tkachenko. Her breath caught in her throat when she got a good look at him. Despite the web of tubes, the quiet hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the absolute stillness of his body, he was… beautiful.

He had a strong jawline, and his dark eyelashes contrasted strikingly with the pallor of his skin. Even beneath the standard hospital gown, the breadth of his shoulders was visible. If not for this deathly, profound stillness, he could have been mistaken for a man simply sleeping soundly. But he was not sleeping.

He was a man locked in a silence that seemed endless. Anna swallowed hard, forcing herself to approach. Out of habit, she checked the IV, then reached for the warm washcloth she’d prepared for his care. She hesitated for just a split second before gently touching his skin with the damp cloth…