Chapter 3 - The Threat in the Dark
The private clinic upstate was supposed to be safe, but Emily knew that wealth—even desperate, crumbling wealth—had a way of bypassing security.
It was 2:00 AM. The only sound in her room was the quiet, rhythmic hum of the air purifier and the distant hum of traffic from the highway.
Emily woke up suddenly. Her skin felt cold, an instinctual alarm bell ringing in her mind.
She looked toward the door. The slit of light beneath it was blocked by a shadow.
Slowly, the door handle turned. The latch clicked open with agonizing slowness.
Emily’s heart hammered against her broken ribs. She couldn't move her lower body; the heavy cast anchored her to the bed. Her hand slowly slid under her pillow, searching for the emergency call button, but her fingers found only empty space. The cord had been unplugged.
The door slid open, and a figure dressed in black scrubs and a surgical mask stepped into the room.
"Don't make a sound, Mrs. Montgomery," a low, gravelly voice whispered.
The figure stepped into the pale moonlight filtering through the window. It wasn't a doctor, and it wasn't a nurse. The man was burly, with cold, dead eyes and a jagged scar running from his temple to his jawline. In his right hand, he held a small, pre-filled syringe.
"Who are you?" Emily asked, her voice remarkably steady despite the terror clawing at her throat. "Victoria sent you?"
The man let out a soft, dry chuckle. "Your mother-in-law is very protective of her family name. And she has a lot of money left in places the feds haven't found yet. She wants you to have a sudden, tragic relapse. A blood clot in your sleep. Very common for patients with your kind of trauma."
He stepped closer, raising the syringe.
Emily’s mind raced. She was paralyzed from the chest down, but her arms were free. She looked at the bedside table. On it sat her heavy glass water pitcher.
"She's using you," Emily said, trying to buy seconds. "The feds have already frozen the offshore accounts. The money she promised you doesn't exist. If you do this, you're doing it for free, and you'll take the fall alone."
The man hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes flickering. "Nice try, lady. But the retainer already cleared."
He lunged forward, grabbing her left shoulder to pin her down, raising the needle toward her IV line.
With a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength that defied her broken body, Emily grabbed the heavy glass water pitcher from the bedside table and swung it with all her might.
SMASH.
The glass shattered against the side of the man's head. Water and sharp shards exploded across the room. The man let out a grunt of pain, staggering backward, clutching his bleeding temple. The syringe fell from his hand, bouncing harmlessly onto the tiled floor.
Before he could recover, Emily grabbed the metal tray table beside her bed and shoved it forward, crashing it into his shins.
The door to the room burst open.
"Freeze! Police!"
Two armed guards, hired by Marcus Sterling’s security firm, rushed into the room with their weapons drawn. The attacker looked at them, looked at the shattered glass, and immediately threw his hands in the air, sinking to his knees.
Marcus Sterling rushed in behind them, his face pale. "Emily! Are you okay?"
Emily was breathing heavily, her body shaking with a mixture of intense pain and raw adrenaline. She looked at the shattered glass, then at the man on the floor.
"I'm fine, Marcus," she gasped, her voice trembling but her eyes blazing with absolute fury. "But call the federal prosecutor. Tell them Victoria Montgomery just tried to murder me again, from inside her jail cell."
The attacker was dragged out in handcuffs. Marcus walked over, his hands shaking as he plugged the emergency call cord back into the wall and checked Emily's vitals.
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"This is getting too dangerous," Marcus said, his voice tight. "She’s desperate, Emily. She knows the trial is in three weeks, and she knows your testimony and your audit are going to destroy her."
"Good," Emily said, her jaw tightening as she looked at the blood-stained water on the floor. "The more desperate she gets, the more mistakes she makes. She thinks she can still play by the old rules, where her name could buy her way out of any cage. Let's show her that the cage she's in now is permanent."
