Chapter 3 - Shadows in the CorridorThe sterile scent of antiseptic hit me like a physical blow as I pushed open the door to Room 402.
Hannah looked impossibly fragile against the crisp white hospital sheets. Her skin had lost its bluish tint, replaced by an unsettling, translucent pallor. An IV line was taped securely to the back of her left hand, right over the dark, ugly bruises shaped like finger-marks.
As the door clicked shut, her eyelids fluttered open.
For a second, her gaze was unfocused, wandering across the ceiling tiles before locking onto my face.
"Lucas?" Her voice was a dry, rasped whisper.
I crossed the room in two strides, dropping to my knees beside the bed and taking her uninjured hand in both of mine. I pressed my lips gently against her knuckles, feeling the familiar, faint tremor in her fingers.
"I'm here, Hannah. I've got you. You're safe."
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracking silently down her temple into her dark hair. "I tried... I tried to hold on to the house keys, Lucas. Your mother said... she said if I didn't sign the transfer papers, I’d be thrown out into the snow with nothing. She told me you weren't coming back... that you died overseas."
The air in my lungs turned to jagged glass.
"She told you I was dead?"
Hannah nodded weakly, her chest heaving with a shaky breath. "They intercepted your letters for the last six months. They burned them in the backyard fireplace. I only stayed because... because this was your home, and I thought if I could just protect it until your contract ended..."
A cold, dark rage flooded my veins—pure, unadulterated venom directed at the two women who shared my blood. They hadn't just humiliated her; they had tried to break her soul, piece by piece, while lying to her face about my survival.
"They're never coming back here, Hannah," I said, my voice steady, iron-clad, and absolute. "The house is ours. The trust is locked. And as of tonight, Eleanor and Paige are sitting in a jail cell facing criminal charges for abuse and forgery."
Hannah stared at me, shock rippling across her pale features. "Jail?"
"They pushed too far," I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. "Now, they get to experience the real world—the one where actions have consequences."
Before she could reply, the door creaked open.
A nurse stepped in, checking the monitor levels with a warm, sympathetic smile. "She needs rest, Captain. Her body went through severe thermal shock. But she’s a fighter. She'll make a full recovery."
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"Thank you," I said softly.
I pulled a chair right beside her bed, intertwining my fingers with hers. As her breathing deepened into the rhythmic cadence of sleep, I made a silent vow: anyone who had a hand in this cruelty would find no mercy left in my heart.
