Chapter 6 - The Hospital Corridor
The fluorescent lights of St. Luke’s Memorial Hospital buzzed with a relentless, maddening hum.
Nathaniel burst through the double doors of the private VIP wing, his overcoat flapping behind him, his face pale and hard as granite. Two private security guards stationed outside Margaret’s room stepped forward to block his path, but one look at Nathaniel’s eyes made them instantly step aside.
He shoved the door open and stepped inside.
His mother was sitting upright in her hospital bed, her face bruised and pale, her right wrist encased in a bulky white cast. Standing beside her, holding a cup of water with a straw, was Vivien.
Except Vivien didn't look like a terrified fiancée anymore. Her mask had slipped, revealing the cold, calculating predator underneath.
"Nathaniel, darling," Vivien said smoothly, turning around with the cup still in her hand. "You missed the excitement. The doctor came by to check her vitals, and she’s recovering wonderfully."
Margaret Whitmore’s eyes snapped toward her son. They burned with a fierce, indomitable fury.
"Get her out of here," Margaret rasped, her voice dry and gravelly from pain. "Before she finishes the job she started on the stairs."
Vivien sighed softly, a masterclass in feigned disappointment. "See, Nathaniel? She’s still hallucinating from the shock. It breaks my heart to hear her talk this way."
Nathaniel didn't answer. He walked slowly across the linoleum floor until he was standing inches away from Vivien. He could smell her expensive perfume—the same jasmine and cedar that now made his stomach turn.
"The flash drive was very informative, Vivien," Nathaniel said quietly, his voice dangerously low. "So was the corporate transfer agreement."
Vivien’s hand paused. For the first time since he had known her, a flicker of genuine panic crossed her blue eyes—just a microsecond of doubt before she tried to mask it with her usual serene smile.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Nathaniel," she whispered, stepping back. "You’re under so much stress..."
"I'm actually clearer than I've ever been," Nathaniel interrupted. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen, casting the security footage from the vault onto the room’s wall-mounted television screen.
The screen flickered to life, displaying the unedited, raw security footage from the estate stairwell—the footage that showed Vivien’s hands pressing firmly against Margaret’s back just as the old woman lost her footing.
May you like
The room went dead silent.
Vivien stared at the screen, her breathing hitching. The mask had completely shattered now, replaced by a cold, venomous glare that made her look entirely unrecognizable.
