Chapter 10: The Midnight Race
The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the winding mountain roads that led to the private medical clinic. Grant was still at the hospital, completely unaware of the poison flowing through his father’s IV line. I had tried to call him, but the storm had knocked out the local cellular towers near the valley, leaving me completely cut off.
I pushed the estate’s SUV to its absolute limit, the tires gripping the wet asphalt as I raced against the ticking clock. In the passenger seat sat a portable chemical analysis kit I had taken from the estate's private laboratory—a tool I had used to originally identify the arsenic in Henry’s tea.
If I couldn't prove to the medical staff that the medication was contaminated, they would never let me touch the IV. They would view me as a hysterical interloper. I needed empirical, undeniable data.
I arrived at the clinic at 11:15 PM. The facility was quiet, illuminated by dim night-lights. I rushed through the front doors, my clothes soaked, the heavy analytical case in my hand.
The nurse at the front desk looked up in surprise. "Miss Mara? Visiting hours ended at nine o'clock."
"I need to see Grant Whitmore and Dr. Sterling immediately," I said, my voice breathless but authoritative. "It's a medical emergency regarding Henry Whitmore."
Before the nurse could answer, Grant emerged from the hallway, his face pale and etched with exhaustion. "Claire? What are you doing here? What's wrong?"
"Grant, they're killing him," I said explicitly, grabbing his arms. "Victoria just called me. The medication Dr. Sterling prescribed—it’s an accelerated toxin disguised as a cardiac stimulant. Julian Vance placed an operative inside this facility. We have to stop the IV right now."
Just then, Dr. Sterling walked out of Henry’s room, a syringe in his hand, his expression hardening as he saw me. "What is the meaning of this disruption? Mr. Whitmore is in critical condition. He requires his midnight injection immediately to stabilize his heart."
"Don't touch him!" I screamed, stepping between the doctor and the door to Henry's room.
"Grant, remove this woman from the premises," Dr. Sterling ordered, his voice dripping with authority. "She is unstable. She is jeopardizing your father's life."
Grant looked between the doctor and me. For a single, terrifying second, I saw the agonizing doubt in his eyes. He was a son desperate to save his father, facing a medical professional with decades of experience.
"Grant," I whispered, looking directly into his eyes, my voice trembling but filled with an unshakeable truth. "Look at me. Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever been wrong about the data? Trust me. Please."
Grant’s gaze solidified. He stepped forward, not toward me, but toward Dr. Sterling, his massive frame blocking the doctor completely. "Hand over the syringe, Doctor."
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"This is malpractice! I will have you both arrested!" Sterling shouted, backing away.
"If she’s wrong, I’ll personally face the charges," Grant said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, protective growl. "But if she’s right, you will never see the light of day again. Claire, test the medicine."
