Chapter 5 - The Hospital Trap
Ethan sprinted out of the elevator, bypassed the lobby security, and took the stairs two at a time, his breath burning in his chest.
Poisoned her IV bag.
The words echoed in his brain with terrifying clarity. Marcus Vance was locked in a holding cell downtown, which meant he had a network—people inside the medical system, or hired hands still operating outside. They weren't just covering up real estate fraud anymore; they were tying up loose ends.
He burst through the double doors of the pediatric ward, his eyes darting down the hallway.
"Ethan!"
Mara Leland was running toward him from room 312, her face pale, holding a plastic biohazard bag containing a clear liquid vial.
"Where is Sadie? Where is Emma?" Ethan demanded, grabbing Mara by the shoulders.
"They're safe—for now," Mara gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "A man dressed in hospital scrubs tried to swap Emma’s intravenous saline bag twenty minutes ago. I walked in to check on Sadie, saw him hovering over the crib, and when I challenged him, he shoved me and bolted down the fire escape."
Ethan spun around, scanning the hallway. "Did you see his face?"
"No, he was wearing a surgical mask and a cap, but he dropped this." Mara held up the biohazard bag. "It’s a paralytic agent. If that had entered an infant's bloodstream, it would have stopped her heart within minutes, and the coroner would have ruled it a sudden infant death."
A cold sweat broke out across Ethan’s neck. They were hunting children. They were hunting two little girls to destroy the only living witnesses to Clara's evidence.
"Where is Sadie right now?" Ethan asked, panic tightening his throat.
"Inside the room. I locked the door," Mara said.
Ethan rushed past her and pushed open the door to Room 312.
The room was dim, illuminated only by the gray morning light filtering through the window. Baby Emma was sleeping soundly in her crib, hooked up to a fresh, heavily monitored monitor system with three nurses stationed directly outside the door.
In the corner of the room, sitting on a small hospital recliner with her knees pulled up to her chin, was Sadie.
She looked up as Ethan entered. Her dark eyes, so painfully reminiscent of Clara’s, held no tears left to cry. Just an ancient, exhausted wisdom that no seven-year-old should ever possess.
Ethan walked over slowly, kneeling down in front of her just as he had in the waiting room hours ago.
"Sadie," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "Are you okay?"
Sadie stared at his expensive suit, then up into his eyes.
"You're the man from Mama’s picture," she whispered.
Ethan froze. "What?"
Sadie slowly reached into the pocket of the oversized gray hoodie, pulled out a small, crumpled polaroid photograph, and laid it gently on his knee.
It was the picture of Clara and Ethan taken twelve years ago on the steps of their old college library, before Ethan packed his bags for Wall Street, before he chose money over love, and before Clara’s life turned into a nightmare.
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Written on the back of the photo in Clara’s handwriting were words that shattered Ethan’s soul:
“He left us to build a kingdom, but when it all falls down, he’s the only monster we can trust to protect our babies.”
