Chapter 3 - Whispers in the ICU
The steady, rhythmic beep of the fetal heart monitor was the only sound breaking the sterile silence of Suite 402 at St. Jude’s Private Pavilion.
Julian sat on the edge of the leather armchair beside the bed, his head resting in his hands. His knuckles were raw, bandages wrapped tightly across his lacerated chest beneath a fresh black sweater. He hadn't slept a wink in eighteen hours. Every shadow in the hallway made his hand drift instinctively toward the concealed holster inside his jacket.
The door clicked open, and Dr. Robert Harrison walked in, pulling off his spectacles. The veteran physician looked unusually grim.
"Robert," Julian said, standing up instantly. "How is she? How are the twins?"
"The babies are fighters, Julian," Dr. Harrison said quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Clara, who lay sleeping under a mild sedative. "The heartbeats have stabilized. But Clara... she didn't just suffer from near-drowning and shock."
Julian’s eyes narrowed into slits. "What did you find?"
"Her blood panel returned an hour ago," Dr. Harrison said, handing Julian a confidential lab printout. "High concentrations of synthetic oxytocin derivatives mixed with a mild neurotoxin. It’s designed to induce violent uterine contractions while causing dizziness and disorientation."
Julian stared at the chemical breakdown, his hands shaking with rage. "She was poisoned before she even fell into the pool."
"Precisely," Harrison nodded grimly. "Whoever administered this wanted her to lose her footing, fall, and miscarry before anyone could intervene. It would have appeared as a tragic, accidental fall caused by sudden pregnancy-related vertigo."
"Evelyn," Julian spat the name like poison.
Behind them, the bedsheets rustled. Clara’s hazel eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion.
"Julian..." she called out weakly.
Julian was at her side in an instant, dropping to his knees and taking her cold hand between his palms. "I’m here, Clara. I’m right here. You and the babies are safe."
Tears spilled over Clara’s pale cheeks. "The tea... yesterday afternoon. Evelyn brought it to my garden room. She smiled... she was so sweet, Julian. She said she wanted to put our past behind us for the sake of the family."
"She played you, and she played me," Julian whispered, kissing her knuckles with fierce tenderness. "She knew my father’s contingency clause. In seven days, on my thirty-second birthday, if I do not have a verified living heir documented in the family registry, seventy percent of the Vance Conglomerate shares transfer directly to the secondary trust—controlled entirely by Evelyn."
Clara swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "Then she won't stop with the pool. She’ll come here."
May you like
"Let her try," Julian replied, his voice devoid of all warmth, eyes blazing with cold determination. "This room is guarded by former Navy SEALs. And by tomorrow night, Evelyn won't be planning an inheritance—she’ll be running for her life."
***
