CHAPTER 3 — His Dead Father Was Calling… Then the Hospital's Darkest Secret Was Unlocked
The phone kept ringing.
Dad Calling.
Ethan stared at the screen as if reality itself had cracked.
His adoptive father, Michael Cole, had died in a car accident eleven years ago.
He had buried him.
He had stood beside the coffin.
He had carried it with his own hands.
Yet the phone continued to vibrate.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
The trauma room was silent except for the endless flatline from Richard Vale's heart monitor.
A nurse gently covered Richard's face with a white sheet.
"He’s gone," she whispered.
But Ethan barely heard her.
His trembling thumb finally pressed Accept.
He couldn't breathe.
For several seconds...
Only silence.
Then a distorted voice whispered through the speaker.
"Ethan..."
His heart stopped.
The voice sounded exactly like his father's.
"If you're hearing this... Richard is dead."
Ethan froze.
"Don't trust Victoria."
Static filled the line.
Then the voice returned.
"They've been lying to you since the day you were born."
The call disconnected.
No number.
No recording.
Nothing.
When Ethan checked the call log...
The phone showed No Incoming Call.
As if it had never happened.
Outside the trauma room, Victoria Hawthorne was gone.
So were the three men in black suits.
Only the rain remained.
Detective Sarah Mitchell stepped through the hospital doors.
She was in her early forties, sharp-eyed, and impossible to intimidate.
She flashed her badge.
"Homicide."
Her eyes immediately landed on Ethan.
"Doctor Cole?"
"Yes."
"You were the last person Richard Vale spoke to."
Ethan hesitated.
"I need you to tell me exactly what he said."
He remembered Richard's final words.
The man who raised you.
Something told him not to repeat them.
"He asked me to forgive him," Ethan lied.
Sarah watched him for several seconds.
"You just lied to a detective."
Ethan looked away.
Sarah sighed.
"Fine."
"But understand this..."
She stepped closer.
"Richard Vale wasn't just some billionaire."
"He disappeared twenty-six years ago after twelve witnesses vanished."
"Twelve people."
"Every investigation led back to one place."
She handed Ethan an old crime scene photograph.
It showed the hospital.
His hospital.
The date printed in the corner made his stomach tighten.
October 18... Twenty-Six Years Ago.
The exact day Ethan was born.
Hours later...
The hospital corridors were nearly empty.
Most employees had gone home.
The east wing remained dark.
Abandoned.
Locked.
Officially condemned.
But Ethan couldn't stop thinking about the brass key.
317.
He stood before a rusted steel door hidden behind old storage rooms.
A faded warning sign read:
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
The key fit perfectly.
Click.
The heavy door slowly opened.
A freezing gust of stale air escaped.
Dust danced through the flashlight beam.
It felt as though no one had entered for decades.
Room after room sat frozen in time.
Old incubators.
Rusted wheelchairs.
Broken medical equipment.
Patient charts scattered across the floor.
Everything looked abandoned overnight.
Then Ethan noticed something strange.
The clocks.
Every single clock had stopped at exactly...
3:17 A.M.
The same number engraved on the key.
A chill ran through his body.
He continued walking until he reached Room 317.
The door wasn't locked.
Someone had already opened it.
Inside...
The delivery room remained untouched.
A tiny hospital bassinet still stood beside the bed.
An old cassette recorder rested on a metal tray.
Next to it...
A sealed envelope.
This one carried a different message.
"For Ethan. Open only if they find Room 317."
His hands shook.
He opened it.
Inside was a single handwritten page.
Ethan...
If you are reading this...
Then Richard failed.
Which means Victoria found you first.
At the bottom...
Only one signature.
— Mom
Ethan's vision blurred.
His mother?
She couldn't be alive.
Could she?
Before he could continue reading...
A loud metallic sound echoed behind him.
Clang.
The heavy door slammed shut.
Darkness swallowed the room.
His flashlight rolled across the floor.
Someone was inside.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Getting closer.
"Ethan..."
A woman's voice whispered from the darkness.
Soft.
Familiar.
Almost comforting.
"I've waited twenty-six years for this moment."
Ethan grabbed a broken metal stand.
"Who's there?"
No answer.
Only footsteps.
Closer.
Closer.
His flashlight finally stopped rolling.
The beam illuminated the far corner of the room.
A woman stepped into the light.
She couldn't have been older than forty-five.
Long dark hair.
Gentle green eyes.
And around her neck...
The exact same crescent-shaped pendant Ethan had worn since childhood.
The one his adoptive father claimed had been found with him as a baby.
The woman smiled through tears.
"Hello, Ethan."
He couldn't move.
She whispered the words he had dreamed about hearing his entire life.
"I'm your mother."
Before Ethan could speak...
A deafening explosion ripped through the abandoned wing.
The floor beneath Room 317 collapsed.
Concrete shattered.
The ceiling caved in.
Ethan reached for the woman—
But she disappeared into the dust.
The last thing he saw...
May you like
Was the cassette recorder sliding across the floor before vanishing into the darkness below.
To Be Continued…
