Chapter 5 - The Glass Castle Crumbles
Inside ICU Room 402, Dr. Marcus Vance was completely unaware that his face was being broadcast live to two million homes. He tapped the syringe to clear the air bubbles, a cruel smirk on his lips.
"Goodbye, Harrison," Marcus whispered. "You should have stayed dead thirty years ago."
Just as the needle touched the rubber port of the IV line, the doors of the ICU room were kicked open with a thunderous bang.
"Step away from the patient, Dr. Vance!"
Elena rushed into the room, flanked by two armed security guards from Margaret’s private detail.
Marcus spun around, dropping the syringe in shock. "Elena?! How did you escape jail?! Guards! Arrest her!"
"There are no guards coming, Marcus," Elena said, her voice steady and echoing with authority. "Look at the screen on the wall."
Marcus slowly turned his head toward the wall-mounted patient monitor. Instead of vital signs, it was playing a live loop of himself holding the lethal syringe, complete with a red banner running along the bottom: LIVE: CHIEF OF MEDICINE CAUGHT ON CAMERA ATTEMPTING MURDER.
Marcus’s face drained of all color. The syringe fell from his trembling hands, shattering on the tile floor. "This... this is a setup!"
"No, Marcus. This is justice," David said, stepping into the room behind Elena, holding his phone up to record. "The police are already downstairs. And this time, they aren't working for Richard."
Down below, the sound of blaring police sirens filled the night air. Dozens of squad cars surrounded the building, their red and blue lights flashing against the glass facade of the hospital.
Within minutes, state troopers poured into the ICU, arresting Marcus on the spot. As he was led away in handcuffs, he screamed at David, "You think you won?! You think this saves your family?! Richard has already liquidated the trust assets! He’s at the private airfield right now with eighty million dollars in bearer bonds! By morning, he’ll be in a country without an extradition treaty!"
Elena’s heart sank. "The money... if he flees with the funds, the company collapses, and hundreds of innocent hospital workers lose their pensions."
"Not on my watch," David said, turning to Sarah. "Is the chopper ready?"
Sarah nodded, pulling a set of flight helmets from a duffel bag. "Roof helipad. Five minutes."
Elena turned to look at the weak, thin man lying in the ICU bed. Mr. Harrison’s eyes slowly fluttered open. He looked up at Elena, his cracked lips moving weakly.
"Elena..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. "The safe... behind the portrait... in Margaret’s study... the real ledger..."
Elena knelt beside him, gently holding his cold hand. "Shh, don't talk. Save your strength."
"No... listen to me," Harrison gasped. "Richard didn't just steal the money... he isn't David's brother... he's..."
Before Harrison could finish the sentence, his heart monitor spiked, and he went into a violent seizure.
"Crash cart! Room 402!" Elena yelled instinctively, slipping back into her nurse persona without a second thought. "David, go to the airfield! I have to stay and save his life!"
David kissed her passionately amidst the chaos of screaming alarms and rushing medical staff. "Be careful, Elena. I love you."
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"Go!" she shouted, grabbing the defibrillator paddles.
As David and Sarah sprinted toward the roof, Elena charged the paddles, her eyes locked on the dying man who held the final, terrible truth about the Whitmore family.
