CHAPTER 4: THE SYSTEMIC SABOTAGE
The nurse walked in with a syringe, but the billionaire noticed one tiny detail that made his blood run cold...
Two hours later, the hospital room had been transformed into a fortress. Caleb’s private security team stood guard at every entrance of the pediatric and ICU wing. The rapid DNA test had been administered, and the samples were currently being processed in Caleb’s own high-tech mobile lab parked downstairs.
Grace had fallen into a restless sleep, her hand still tightly clasped in Caleb’s. Ellie was curled up on the small sofa in the corner of the room, exhausted from the day's emotional roller coaster, fast asleep under Caleb's heavy cashmere overcoat.
The quiet was shattered when a young nurse in blue scrubs entered the room, carrying a tray with an IV drip bag and a syringe.
"Time for Ms. Holay’s scheduled antibiotic and pain management injection," the nurse said, her voice slightly shaky. She kept her head down, avoiding Caleb's intense gaze.
Caleb watched her closely. As a billionaire who ran a global consulting firm, he was trained to read micro-expressions. He noticed the way the nurse’s hands trembled as she prepared the syringe. He saw the sweat beads forming on her upper lip despite the cool air conditioning.
"What medication is that?" Caleb asked coldly.
"It’s... it's Ceftriaxone, sir. For her kidney infection," the nurse stammered, stepping toward Grace’s IV line.
Caleb stood up. "Stop."
The nurse froze, her face turning white. "Sir, I need to administer this—"
"Show me the chart," Caleb demanded, stepping between the nurse and his sleeping love.
"It's... it's on the digital system, I don't have the paper chart—"
Caleb didn't argue. He grabbed her wrist. His eyes locked onto the syringe in her hand. The liquid inside wasn't the clear, watery consistency of standard antibiotics. It was slightly thick, with a faint yellowish tint.
"Martha!" Caleb called out.
His loyal executive coordinator, who had arrived at the hospital an hour prior to assist him, stepped into the room immediately. "Yes, Mr. Whitmore?"
"Take this syringe. Call our private toxicologist downstairs. Have them analyze this immediately. And lock this 'nurse' in the secure lounge until we get the results."
"You can't do this!" the nurse shrieked, trying to pull away, but Caleb’s grip was like steel. "I'm just doing my job!"
Ten minutes later, the door opened. But it wasn't the toxicologist. It was Marcus, Caleb’s head of security, holding a tablet. His expression was grim.
"Mr. Whitmore, we have the results of the rapid DNA test," Marcus said, handing over the tablet.
Caleb’s eyes scanned the screen.
PATERNAL RELATIONSHIP PROBABILITY: 99.999% FATHER: CALEB WHITMORE CHILD: ELIZABETH HOLAY
A tear, hot and heavy, slipped down Caleb’s cheek. She was his. Truly, undeniably his.
But Marcus wasn't finished. "Sir, we also analyzed the syringe you confiscated. It didn't contain antibiotics. It was a lethal dose of potassium chloride. It would have caused an immediate cardiac arrest, and given her weakened state, the hospital would have ruled it a natural heart failure due to her infection."
May you like
Caleb’s heart stopped. His own mother hadn't just tried to drive Grace away.
She was trying to murder her.
