Chapter 6 - The Private Ward
The private wing of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital was entirely silent except for the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor and the soft hum of the HVAC system.
Harper woke up to the smell of antiseptic, crisp white cotton, and faint hints of expensive cedarwood and leather.
Her right leg was encased in a thick, rigid orthopedic cast, elevated on a stack of plush pillows. The deep, burning ache in her shin had been dulled by whatever pain medication the doctors had administered through her IV line, leaving her feeling floaty and detached.
She blinked against the warm sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The room didn't look like a hospital room. It looked like a five-star hotel suite. There were no plastic chairs or humming vending machines outside; instead, a polished mahogany desk sat in the corner, and a stack of fresh legal documents rested neatly beside a laptop.
Sitting in a leather armchair near the window, reading a physical copy of the Wall Street Journal, was Gideon.
He had removed his coat, revealing a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing lean, corded muscles and a faint, jagged scar across his left wrist.
Harper shifted slightly against the pillows, the rustle of the sheets catching his attention.
Gideon lowered the newspaper instantly. He stood up, walking over to the bed with quiet, controlled strides, and poured a fresh glass of ice water from a pitcher on the bedside table.
“How’s the leg?” he asked, his voice lower and softer than it had been in the apartment.
“It feels like someone drove a truck over it,” Harper croaked, her throat dry. “Then backed up and did it again.”
Gideon handed her the glass, steadying her hand as she lifted it to her lips. “The orthopedic surgeon put three titanium pins in to stabilize the fracture. You’ll be on crutches for six weeks, but it will heal straight.”
Harper drank gratefully, the cold water clearing the fog from her brain. She looked around the expansive room, then back at him.
“Where am I?”
“St. Jude’s,” Gideon said. “Floor twelve. The entire floor is reserved for family and special guests.”
“I’m not your family,” Harper said, her heart fluttering nervously against her ribs. “And I’m definitely not a guest. I’m... I’m just someone who typed the wrong numbers into a phone.”
Gideon pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down, resting his forearms on his knees. Up close, his eyes were a piercing, stormy gray, framed by dark lashes and a face that looked like it had been chiseled out of stone.
“You dialed a number that hasn’t been active for anyone else in seven years,” Gideon said quietly. “That wasn't an accident, Harper.”
“What happened to the phone?” she asked, remembering the cold voice on the other end of the line.
“It belonged to my sister,” Gideon said, and for the first time, a shadow crossed his features—a flash of profound, ancient grief that he quickly locked away behind his usual iron mask. “Her name was Clara. She made the mistake of trusting a coward who didn't deserve her. When she needed someone to answer... no one did in time.”
Harper stared at him, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind with chilling clarity.
“You thought I was her,” she whispered.
“For half a second,” Gideon admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. “And then I realized you were someone else going through the exact same nightmare. And I decided I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.”
“What about Tyler?” Harper asked, a knot forming in her stomach. “The police—they’re going to look for him. They’re going to look for me.”
“Tyler Grayson won't be bothering you again,” Gideon said smoothly, though there was a terrifying finality in his tone. “He’s currently on a very long, very uncomfortable journey out of the state. His lease is terminated, his belongings have been cleared out of your apartment, and any legal records of your name being associated with his have been... adjusted.”
May you like
Harper’s eyes widened. “Adjusted? You can’t just make people disappear, Gideon.”
“Watch me,” he said simply.
