Chapter 4 - The Unorthodox Sanctuary
By that evening, Dr. Yates and his nurses had been completely dismissed from the active care rotation. Lawson had given Waverly full authority over the medical wing, much to the shock of Prescott and the rest of the Mercer syndicate.
"She has no license, boss," Prescott warned as they stood in Lawson’s private study, surrounded by monitors showing the perimeter security. "Our enemies are looking for any sign of weakness. If word gets out that you've hired a random woman from a cheap agency to treat the heirs to the Mercer family, it makes us look desperate."
"We are desperate, Prescott," Lawson said, staring out the window into the snowy night. "Yates told me my kids had two weeks. This girl looked me in the eyes and told me I was letting them die in the dark. Let her work. Monitor her every move, but do not interfere."
Inside the medical wing, Waverly had completely transformed the space. The harsh chemical smell of antiseptic was replaced by the soothing scent of lavender and chamomile oil she had brought in her worn backpack. She had pushed the twin beds together so Jonah and Blythe could hold hands without stretching their small arms.
"Why don't you wear a white coat like Dr. Yates?" Jonah asked, his voice weak but curious as Waverly gently wiped his forehead with a cool cloth.
"Because white coats are boring," Waverly smiled, sitting on the edge of his bed. "And they make people feel like they're in a cage. We aren't in a cage here. We are in a castle, and we are getting ready for a very long journey."
"Are we going to see Mommy?" Blythe asked softly, repeating the question that had broken Lawson's heart the night before.
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Waverly's eyes softened with a deep, profound understanding. She reached down, taking both of their small hands in hers. "Your mommy loves you very much, and she is watching you from a beautiful place. But she told me a secret today in the wind. She said she wants you to stay here with your daddy for a long, long time, because his heart would be too lonely without you."
Standing just outside the partially open door, Lawson heard every word. A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in his chest—a sensation he hadn't felt since Genevieve was alive. He looked at Waverly through the glass, realizing that her strength didn't come from a lack of fear, but from a profound intimacy with grief. She knew how to navigate the darkness because she lived there.
