Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Corridor
Back in the waiting area, the clock on the wall clicked past 2:15 AM.
Grace gently shifted Lily onto the narrow vinyl couch, draping her own cardigan over the little girl’s shoulders. Lily murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, her small hand clutching the ear of her worn-out stuffed gray rabbit.
Mason was pacing now, his heavy loafers making no sound on the polished linoleum floor. His phone buzzed silently in his hand. He glanced at the screen, swiped, and held it to his ear.
“Report,” Mason snapped in a low, dangerous growl.
“Boss,” came the voice of a young enforcer named Leo on the other end. “We locked down the perimeter. No unauthorized vehicles left the parking structure. But we found something interesting on the security logs for the third-floor service elevator.”
“Talk.”
“An internal maintenance tech badge was used to swipe into the restricted surgical ward at 10:45 PM—right around the time Mr. Vale’s vitals started acting up. Only problem is, the technician assigned to that shift was home with a broken leg.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed, locking onto the double doors of the operating theater down the hall. “Whose face was on the security camera?”
“That’s the kicker,” Leo replied, his voice dropping lower. “It was wearing a surgical mask and cap. But our tech ran facial recognition against the hospital registry. It matches Dr. Mercer’s primary assistant, Julian Vance.”
Grace, who had been listening quietly from a few feet away, felt her blood run cold. “Julian Vance? The senior surgical resident?”
Mason lowered the phone slowly, cutting the call without a word. He turned to Grace, his expression hard as granite.
“You know him?” Mason asked.
“He was on duty when Adrian was brought in,” Grace said, standing up and stepping away from the couch so as not to wake Lily. “He was the one who assisted Dr. Brooks during the initial triage. He smiled and told us the operation went smoothly.”
“Smoothly,” Mason repeated, the word tasting like poison in his mouth.
Before Mason could move toward the elevators, the double doors of Operating Room Two swung open. Dr. Brooks stepped out, looking pale and exhausted, trailed by two orderlies pushing Adrian’s bed toward the private recovery suite on the fourth floor.
“He’s stable,” Dr. Brooks announced before Mason could ask. “The secondary infection has been aggressively flushed out. But he’s still under heavy sedation. I’ve restricted all visitors except for you, Mason—and Ms. Miller and her daughter.”
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Mason blinked, surprised. “Why them?”
“Because,” Dr. Brooks said, casting a protective glance toward the sleeping toddler on the couch, “if it weren't for that little girl, Mr. Vale would be dead by sunrise. I want her within arm's reach of him until he wakes up. She’s his best defense system.”
