Chapter 5 - SILENT SHADOWSAt 2:15 AM, the storm outside the hospital raged, rain violently battering the high-rise glass windows.

The lights in the VIP wing flitted and dimmed as the back-up generator kicked in—part of the scheduled 'maintenance' I had paid Dr. Harrison to arrange. The long hallway was bathed in an eerie, flickering amber glow. The nurses' station was completely deserted.

Dressed in a dark rain slicker, his face obscured by a surgical mask, a figure crept silently down the corridor.

It was Richard.

In his pocket, he carried a pre-filled syringe containing a lethal dose of potassium chloride, obtained through a crooked disgraced doctor he used to bribe. A single injection into my IV line, and my heart would stop within three minutes. The cause of death would look like a sudden, massive pulmonary embolism—a common post-surgical risk.

He reached Room 408. The door was slightly ajar.

Richard pushed it open smoothly, his heart hammering against his ribs. The room was dark, saved only by the dim blue illumination of the heart monitor.

He slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

There, in the center of the room, was the hospital bed. A long, blanketed figure lay completely still, the slow, rhythmic sound of breathing filling the room. Beside the bed were the two baby cribs, shrouded in shadow.

“You should have taken the deal, Maya,” Richard whispered, drawing the syringe from his coat. The needle glinted sharply in the monitor’s light. “You thought you were so clever with your legal tricks. But money doesn't buy survival.”

He stepped up to the bed, raised the syringe, and plunged the needle violently into the IV port attached to the figure’s arm, depressing the plunger completely.

“Goodbye, my sweet wife,” he sneered.

Suddenly, the bed sheets were thrown back.

Richard gasped, stumbling backward. The person in the bed wasn't me.

May you like

Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering...

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverbe...

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang...

It was a full-sized medical training mannequin attached to a synthetic pulse simulator.

“Looking for me, Richard?”