Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER WHO SMILED AT BAD NEWS
Gabriel Castellano was thirty-four.
He wore a watch that cost more than my annual salary and spoke with the confidence of a man accustomed to being obeyed.
He stood beside Nicholas's bed, studying his brother's face.
“Has he spoken?”
I kept my expression neutral.
“He's undergoing evaluation.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“That wasn't my question.”
I swallowed.
“His medical team can provide updates through the authorized process.”
For a moment, his smile disappeared.
Then he nodded.
“Professional. I like that.”
He stepped closer.
“My brother's care is extremely important to our family.”
“I understand.”
“Then you'll tell me if anything unusual happens.”
I looked at Nicholas.
His eyes remained closed.
“I'll follow hospital policy.”
Gabriel's smile returned.
“Of course.”
After he left, I sat beside Nicholas.
“You heard that?”
His fingers moved.
Once.
I leaned closer.
“Is Gabriel involved?”
Two taps.
I didn't know what they meant.
So I asked carefully.
“One tap for yes. Two for no.”
One tap.
My stomach dropped.
I wanted to run.
Instead, I called Dr. Hart.
She arrived twenty minutes later.
We documented Nicholas's responses and requested an urgent assessment by a neurologist unaffiliated with Dr. Voss.
The hospital's patient-safety team was notified.
The next morning, the pharmacy reported that the newly ordered sedative had been entered under unusual circumstances.
The order was being investigated.
Dr. Voss had not documented a clear clinical justification.
By noon, hospital administration had restricted his access to Nicholas's treatment decisions pending review.
That afternoon, I found a folded note inside my locker.
No envelope.
No signature.
Just six words.
STOP ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT ROOM 412.
My hands began shaking.
I looked around the empty locker room.
Someone had been watching me.
I called hospital security.
Then Dr. Hart.
The note was photographed and preserved.
That night, Nicholas was more alert.
His eyes followed me as I entered.
“Clara.”
I smiled despite my fear.
“Hey, trouble.”
His mouth twitched.
“You always... talk this much?”
I laughed.
“Only when my patients are rude.”
He watched me.
Then whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I frowned.
“For what?”
“Putting you... in danger.”
I looked down.
“You didn't.”
His eyes darkened.
“My family did.”
I sat beside him.
“Then tell me what happened.”
He closed his eyes.
For a long moment, I thought he'd fallen asleep.
Then he whispered, “There was a ledger.”
My heart quickened.
“What ledger?”
“Payments. Names. Dates.”
He swallowed.
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
His eyes opened.
“That Gabriel was stealing from the family.”
I stared.
Nicholas continued.
“I confronted him.”
His voice broke.
“Three days later... I was shot.”
May you like
I looked toward the door.
And realized the man who had smiled beside Nicholas's bed might have been waiting six months for his brother to die.
