Chapter 8 - The Shadow Hospital
Mara opened her eyes to the sterile blinding brightness of fluorescent lights overhead.
The air was freezing, thick with the sharp smell of antiseptic and industrial bleach. She tried to move her hands, but a dull, metallic clinking sound stopped her. Her right wrist was handcuffed to the side rail of a heavy iron hospital bed.
Panic surged through her blood like fire. She sat up abruptly, a sharp pain shooting through her lower abdomen.
"Easy, Mrs. Cole," a flat, mechanical voice said from the shadows near the corner of the room.
Mara whipped her head around. Standing near a steel medical tray was Dr. Patel—the same doctor who had performed her ultrasound at the public clinic hours earlier. But he wasn't wearing his white coat. He wore a dark grey surgical gown, and his eyes were entirely devoid of warmth.
"Dr. Patel?" Mara gasped, her breath coming in shallow, frantic ragged bursts. "Where... where am I? Where is my baby?"
"Your son is fine," Dr. Patel said, turning to adjust an IV drip connected to her arm. "He is currently measuring thirty-two weeks and five days. His heart rate is stable. Though I suggest you lower your blood pressure, or you will induce premature labor."
Mara pulled violently against the handcuff, the iron biting deep into her skin. "Why am I restrained?! Who brought me here?!"
"Master Hail’s logistics team," a woman’s voice answered from the doorway.
Simone Vance stepped into the room, shutting the heavy double doors behind her. She had changed out of her gown into an expensive gray suit, looking impeccably composed.
"Welcome to Saint Jude’s Annex," Simone said, walking to the foot of the bed and resting her manicured hands on the steel frame. "An unregistered private medical wing owned entirely by offshore shell companies. No records enter this facility. No records leave."
"Adrien will kill you for this," Mara spat, her eyes burning with pure fury. "He will hunt you and Victor to the ends of the earth!"
Simone let out a quiet, melodic laugh that chilled Mara to the bone.
"Adrien thinks you betrayed him, Mara," Simone said gently, leaning forward. "He believes you planned the attack with Aaron Pike. He believes you drained your son’s trust foundation and fled like a thief in the night. Right now, he has every operative on the Eastern Seaboard hunting for you and Pike with orders to terminate on sight."
"He won't believe that..." Mara whispered, though a dark, sickening terror told her otherwise. He turned left. He didn't come for me. He believed Victor.
"He already believes it," Simone corrected her smoothly. "Victor showed him the modified transfer logs. You signed the legal separation papers today, didn't you, Mara? You left them right on your vanity. Victor recovered them before the fire reached your room. To Adrien, that unsigned legal document—now conveniently signed—is absolute proof that you were planning your exit for weeks."
Mara felt her throat lock up. The trap was absolute. Every action she had taken to protect herself and her child had been twisted by Victor and Simone to build an ironclad case of treason against her.
"What do you want?" Mara asked, forcing her voice to stop shaking.
"It’s very simple," Simone said, opening a leather portfolio she carried under her arm. "You are going to carry that baby until thirty-six weeks. Then Dr. Patel will perform a scheduled C-section. The child will be delivered to Adrien as a 'rescued asset' from the fictitious kidnapping plot."
"And me?"
Simone smiled, a look of serene toxicity. "You will suffer a fatal post-partum hemorrhage. Tragic. Complicated by the stress of your 'escape attempt.' Adrien will mourn his traitorous wife, raise his son under my guidance, and Victor will control the liquidated Blackthorn assets without a single paper trail pointing to us."
Simone placed a pen on the bedside table beside Mara.
"Or," Simone added softly, "you can sign the secondary asset release forms right now, and Dr. Patel will make sure your death is painless when the time comes."
Mara looked at the pen. She looked at Simone’s calm, cruel face. Then she looked down at her heavy, rounded belly, where she felt a sudden, distinct movement—a tiny kick against her ribs.
Strong heart. Long legs.
Mara raised her head, looking Simone straight in the eye, and let out a long, cold breath.
May you like
"Go to hell," Mara said.
Simone’s smile vanished. She closed her portfolio with a sharp snap. "Keep her heavily sedated, Doctor. If she moves, increase the dosage. She only needs to survive long enough to deliver the heir."
