Chapter 2 - THE WARNING BENEATH THE PILLOW
I didn't sleep after my shift.
I sat in my apartment in Bridgeport, staring at the rain sliding down the kitchen window.
Nicholas Castellano had been conscious.
He had spoken.
And he had accused someone of trying to kill him.
I replayed every moment.
The sudden movement.
His desperate grip.
The way he said Dr. Voss's name.
Then the warning.
They're trying to finish the job.
At nine that morning, I called Dr. Evelyn Hart.
She answered after four rings.
“Clara?”
“I need to tell you something about last night.”
Her voice became serious.
“I'm listening.”
I told her everything.
There was a long silence.
Then she said, “You need to document exactly what happened.”
“I already entered the awakening into his chart.”
“Not just that. His words.”
I swallowed.
“Do you believe me?”
“I believe we have a patient showing signs of consciousness, and I believe we need an independent evaluation.”
She paused.
“Until then, be careful about who has access to his care.”
That evening, I returned to Room 412.
Nicholas lay exactly as before.
The monitors beeped.
The guards stood outside.
Nothing appeared different.
But I was different.
I no longer believed the silence.
I checked his vitals.
Reviewed his chart.
Then noticed something strange.
His medication orders had been updated.
A new sedating medication had been added to the nighttime schedule.
The order carried Dr. Voss's electronic signature.
I frowned.
The timing was suspicious.
Why increase sedation immediately after a patient showed signs of waking?
There could have been legitimate medical reasons, but no explanation appeared in the note.
I contacted Dr. Hart.
She asked me to hold the new dose pending review under hospital policy.
Then she requested a pharmacy verification.
At midnight, Nicholas opened his eyes again.
This time, he looked directly at me.
“Clara.”
His voice was faint.
I moved closer.
“I'm here.”
He swallowed.
“Water.”
I helped him take a small amount after confirming his swallowing precautions with the care team.
He closed his eyes.
Then whispered, “You read... every night.”
My throat tightened.
“You heard me?”
A faint movement.
“Yes.”
I stared.
For weeks, I'd talked to him about my life.
My debts.
My terrible dating history.
My grandmother's recipes.
My fear of failing nursing school.
I felt heat rise into my face.
“Oh, God.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
“You said... I was terrifying.”
I covered my face.
He made a weak sound.
It might have been laughter.
Then his expression changed.
“Listen.”
I leaned closer.
“The shooting... wasn't random.”
I swallowed.
“Who did it?”
His breathing became shallow.
He struggled to speak.
“Someone... inside.”
“Inside your organization?”
He nodded faintly.
“Someone... I trusted.”
Footsteps sounded outside.
Nicholas's eyes widened.
“Don't tell... them.”
I looked toward the door.
“Who?”
He closed his eyes.
Then whispered one name.
“Gabriel.”
The door opened.
A tall man in a dark suit entered.
He had black hair, a trimmed beard, and a cold expression.
“Miss Jenkins.”
I straightened.
“Yes?”
“My name is Gabriel Castellano.”
My stomach tightened.
Nicholas's younger brother.
Gabriel looked toward the bed.
“I heard my brother had an incident last night.”
I nodded.
“He showed signs of consciousness.”
Gabriel's expression didn't change.
“How unfortunate.”
I stared.
“Unfortunate?”
He smiled.
“I mean, unfortunate that he suffered another medical complication.”
But his eyes weren't on Nicholas.
May you like
They were on me.
And I suddenly understood why Nicholas had whispered his name.
