I pulled my hand back as if I’d touched a live wire, staring down at Ethan Thornton’s pale fingers. For nine months, the medical world had written him off as a breathing corpse—a tragic, vegetative placeholder meant to keep a corporate empire from crumbling into chaos. But right now, those long, elegant fingers twitched again. A faint, dry rasp tore through his throat as the heavy veil of his eyelids lifted, revealing eyes the color of a stormy winter sea.

The door drifted open with a quiet hiss, and Nurse Evelyn stepped inside, holding a metal tray lined with syringes and a fresh IV bag filled with a clear, amber-tinted liquid. Her face wore the practiced, sickeningly sweet mask of professional compassion that made my stomach turn.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Thornton," Evelyn said, her eyes darting quickly toward the bed to check Ethan's posture. "How is our patient today? Any change?"

I stood up from the armchair, letting my shoulders slump and my voice crack with carefully rehearsed despair. "None. He’s completely unresponsive. I... I don't know how much longer I can take sitting in this room listening to that monitor."

Evelyn offered a sympathetic smile that didn't reach her cold, calculating eyes. "It’s a heavy burden for someone so young, dear. But you made your bed when you signed that marriage certificate." She walked over to the IV pole, her hands moving with practiced efficiency as she unhooked the empty saline bag and prepared to attach the new one. "Let's get this sedative flowing. It keeps his heart rate stable and prevents muscle spasms."

The sedative that was slowly frying his brain.

"Can I get you some water, nurse?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I took a slow step toward her left side, directly blocking Evelyn's line of sight to the bed.

Evelyn frowned, glancing at me. "No, thank you, I'm fine—"

"Please," I insisted, stumbling slightly against the rolling medical tray to create a clatter of metal instruments. "I just... I feel so dizzy in this heat."

While Evelyn’s attention snapped down to the clattering tray to steady it, a hand shot out from beneath the bedsheets with terrifying speed.

Ethan’s fingers locked onto the clear plastic tube of the IV line, pinching it shut with an iron grip, while his other hand swiftly unclipped the needle port from his forearm, diverting the amber liquid into an empty plastic specimen cup hidden beneath his pillow.

It all happened in less than three seconds.

Evelyn snapped her head back up, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Ethan, who was once again lying completely motionless, his chest rising and falling in a slow, robotic rhythm.

"Did he move?" Evelyn asked sharply, staring at Ethan's face with sudden suspicion.

I forced myself to laugh—a high-pitched, hysterical sound that completely sold the illusion. "Move? Are you blind? He hasn't budged an inch since yesterday! If he moved, I'd probably scream."

Evelyn studied me for another long, agonizing moment before letting out a dismissive breath. "Just nerves, Mrs. Thornton. Try to get some fresh air. If you crack under pressure, Jason won't hesitate to cut your father's funding."

She grabbed her tray, turned on her heel, and walked out of the room, locking the heavy door behind her.

The moment the lock clicked, I let out a breath I felt like I'd been holding for a century, sliding down the wall until I sat flat on the floor.

Ethan pulled the plastic specimen cup out from under his pillow, holding it up to the afternoon light. The amber liquid swirled ominously inside.

"Pancuronium bromide," Ethan whispered, reading the chemical signature from memory. "A powerful paralytic. Combined with my medical history, a double dose would have caused cardiac arrest within ten minutes, and the autopsy would have blamed natural organ failure."

He set the cup down on the nightstand, his eyes locked onto the door with a terrifying intensity. "They thought they were burying me alive. But now? We have their weapon, we have their financial records on that hard drive, and we have forty-eight hours before the board meeting."