Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Glass
Julian’s breath hitched in his chest as the alarms within Operating Room Three intensified. He made a desperate lunge toward the sealed doors, but a senior surgeon, Dr. Vance—a lifelong acquaintance of the Sterling family—slipped out, pushing Julian back with stern resolve.
"Julian, step back! Let the specialists do their work," Vance ordered, removing his surgical cap to reveal a forehead beaded with sweat.
"Is she alive? Vance, tell me she's breathing!" Julian demanded, grabbing the older doctor by the scrub collar.
Vance glanced warily past Julian’s shoulder toward Evelyn, who remained motionless by the waiting room window, watching like a bird of prey. "Her heart stopped for forty seconds. We managed to restart her rhythm, but the fetal distress is catastrophic. Whatever entered her bloodstream caused violent uterine contractions and massive vascular shock."
"It was an accident," Evelyn interjected smoothly, stepping forward. "My daughter-in-law suffered a terrible fall down the stairs, Vance. The trauma induced labor prematurely. You know how clumsy Clara has been throughout this entire gestation."
Julian whipped around, his teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached. "She didn't fall down the stairs. You forced a tincture down her throat! Maria witnessed it!"
"Maria is a thieving domestic whom I dismissed twenty minutes ago," Evelyn replied without missing a beat, her gaze icy. "Her testimony will not hold up in any court of law, Julian. You are speaking out of delirium and grief. Vance, as head of the board, I expect discretion. This hospital bears the Sterling name on its wing."
Dr. Vance swallowed hard, visibly caught in the vice of the matriarch’s immense financial influence. "I took a blood sample myself. It has been sent to the lab under an alias to protect the family from paparazzi. But Julian... you need to prepare yourself. If the medication we administered doesn't counter the poison within the hour, we will have to choose between Clara and the child."
"Save Clara," Julian said instantly, without a millisecond of hesitation.
"Julian, no!" Evelyn gasped, genuine panic finally breaking through her veneer. "The child is the sole heir! If it is a boy, the trust requires an intact lineage! You cannot sacrifice the heir for a woman with no background!"
Julian looked at his mother as if she were a total stranger, a monster carved from diamond and ice. "Her life comes first. Do you hear me, Vance? Save Clara. If you let her slip away to preserve an inheritance, I will tear this hospital down brick by brick."
Dr. Vance gave a grim nod and turned back toward the doors.
Before the heavy panels sealed shut again, Julian caught the faint, metallic scent of ozone and the frantic cadence of defibrillator paddles charging up.
Julian slowly turned his back on Evelyn and walked toward the bank of elevators. His hand dipped into his inner pocket, pulling out Clara’s small, silver locket that had snapped off during her fall.
May you like
He thumbed the clasp open. Inside was not a picture of him, nor a picture of their wedding.
It was a faded photograph of a rusty, padlocked iron door inscribed with Roman numerals: VII. Underneath, Clara’s handwriting was scrawled on a slip of parchment: The cellar will set us free.
