Chapter 3 - The Hospital Trap
By 1:00 PM, I was ensconced in a private room in the VIP wing of St. Jude’s. The monitors beside my bed beeped with a steady, rhythmic cadence. I was hooked up to an IV drip, which contained nothing but standard saline, though the chart at the foot of my bed falsely indicated I was heavily sedated with anti-seizure medication.
Jason and Sylvia sat in the corner of the room. A sleek, black leather briefcase sat on Jason’s lap.
"The doctor said she’s stable, but her cognitive functions are severely compromised," Jason murmured, watching me through narrowed eyes. "The legal team says we need her signature and a thumbprint on the emergency conservatorship documents before the end of the day. If she slips into a coma, it gets complicated with probate court."
"Are you sure the notary is reliable?" Sylvia asked, nervously biting her thumbnail.
"I paid him five thousand dollars, Sylvia. He doesn't ask questions. He’ll certify that she was of sound mind when she signed." Jason stood up, straightening his designer suit jacket. He walked over to my bedside. "Karina? Can you hear me?"
I slowly blinked my eyes open, letting them roll slightly before focusing on him. "Jason... where... where is my wine?"
Jason let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "The wine is gone, Karina. You’re in the hospital. You had a very bad fall. Do you remember?"
"No... everything is... dark..."
"That's okay," Jason said, his voice dripping with venomous warmth. He opened the briefcase and pulled out a thick stack of legal documents. "I have something that will make the darkness go away. It’s a document that allows Sylvia and me to take care of your beautiful house, your bank accounts, and your investments so you don't have to worry anymore. Can you sign it for me?"
Sylvia stepped forward, her face flushed. "Mom... it’s for the best. You remember what happened to Grandma. You don't want to lose your mind in that big house all alone."
You pathetic girl, I thought. You’re using your grandmother's memory to justify robbing your own mother.
"Sign...?" I whispered. "I can't... hold a pen..."
"I'll help you," Jason said instantly. He pulled a heavy gold pen from his pocket and pressed it into my right hand, wrapping his large, manicured fingers around mine. He forced my hand down onto the signature line of the power-of-attorney document.
I let my hand shake violently, deliberately scrawling a messy, unrecognizable scribble across the page that looked nothing like my elegant, precise legal signature.
"Good," Jason muttered, his eyes gleaming with avarice. "Now, just the thumbprint for the secondary deed transfer." He produced an ink pad from his pocket, pressed my right thumb into it, and slammed it down onto the second document. "Perfect."
He immediately pulled a wet wipe from his pocket and cleaned my thumb, erasing the evidence of the ink. He tucked the papers back into his briefcase with the speed of a professional thief.
"I’ll go meet the notary downstairs and get these filed immediately," Jason told Sylvia, kissing her forehead. "We did it, honey. The estate is ours."
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the silence in the hospital room became deafening. Sylvia sat back down, staring at the floor, refusing to look at me.
"Sylvia," I said.
My voice wasn't slurred anymore. It was cold, sharp, and perfectly clear.
Sylvia froze. Her head snapped up, her eyes widening in sheer terror as she saw me sitting completely upright in the hospital bed, pulling the heart monitor leads off my chest with calm, deliberate movements.
May you like
"M-Mom?" she stammered, backing her chair away. "What... how are you talking like that?"
"You always underestimate me, Sylvia," I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "You always have."
