Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE HOSPITAL BED
Rose Miller had been fighting cancer for eighteen months.
She was fifty-six.
A former elementary school teacher.
A woman who had spent her life helping children who struggled to read.
Now she lay in a hospital bed surrounded by machines, fighting for another chance to see spring.
Fay visited her every Sunday.
Sometimes twice a week.
She brought homemade soup.
Fresh flowers.
Stories about the estate that carefully excluded anything dangerous.
Rose knew her daughter worked for wealthy people.
She didn't know how wealthy.
Or how dangerous.
That morning, Fay arrived at the hospital with Mrs. Alvarez beside her.
Vincent had arranged transportation, but Fay had insisted on choosing who accompanied her.
She didn't want bodyguards.
She wanted someone familiar.
Rose smiled when she saw her.
Then noticed the bruise.
Her smile vanished.
“Fay.”
“Mom.”
“What happened?”
Fay sat beside the bed.
“Someone hurt me at work.”
Rose's eyes filled.
“Who?”
“A man.”
Rose reached for her hand.
“Did you report it?”
Fay nodded.
“Yes.”
“Are you safe?”
Fay hesitated.
“I think so.”
Rose squeezed her fingers.
“That's not the same as yes.”
Fay looked down.
Her mother had always been able to hear what she didn't say.
Rose studied her.
“Sweetheart, you don't have to stay anywhere that makes you afraid.”
Fay's eyes filled.
“But your treatments—”
Rose shook her head.
“Don't.”
“Mom—”
“Your life is not a payment plan.”
Fay began crying.
Rose pulled her close.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then Rose whispered:
“I would rather have less time with you than know you were suffering to buy me more.”
Fay held her tightly.
She had spent eighteen months believing she had no choice.
Now she wasn't sure what frightened her more.
Losing the job.
Or realizing her mother had never wanted her to sacrifice herself this way.
Across the city, Vincent was meeting with the hospital's security director.
He showed the threatening photograph.
The director frowned.
“That image appears to have been taken inside a restricted treatment area.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Who had access?”
“We'll review the logs.”
Vincent nodded.
“Please preserve everything.”
The director studied him.
“Mr. Cross, are you suggesting someone threatened a patient?”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
“Yes.”
May you like
His voice was quiet.
“And I intend to find out who.”
