Chapter 2 - The Midnight Escape
The fluorescent light reflecting off Jennifer Hayes's plastic nametag read *J. Miller, RN.*
She was prettier in person than she had looked on the stolen Instagram photos I had cried over six weeks ago. Blonde hair pulled back into a tidy ponytail, wide innocent blue eyes, and delicate hands—hands that were currently preparing a dose of poison designed to stop my heart.
"You look tense, Claire," she said, tapping the syringe with a manicured fingernail. "Ethan told me you were having trouble accepting the prognosis."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged bird. I kept my face blank, letting my head roll weakly to the side. "He talked to you?"
"Oh, he's devastated," she lied smoothly, stepping up to my bed. Her gaze dropped instantly to the bloody sheet and my bare, needle-free hand. Her smile vanished. "What happened to your line?"
"I... I had a nightmare," I rasped, forcing my voice to tremble with convincing hysteria. "I pulled it out by accident. My stomach hurts so bad, Jennifer. Please. Just get the doctor."
She stared at me. Her cold eyes flicked between my pale face and the blood on the mattress. She didn't move toward the call button. Instead, she set the syringe down on the metal tray and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small glass vial.
"The doctor is busy in the ICU, sweetie," she said, her voice dropping into a sinister, intimate register. "Don't worry. I'll just give this to you orally. It'll take the pain away completely."
She was going to force it down my throat right here.
"I don't want it," I whispered, pressing my back against the hard plastic headboard.
"You don't really have a choice anymore, Claire," Jennifer said coldly, unscrewing the cap. "You've dragged this out for three months. Ethan is exhausted. *I'm* exhausted. Just swallow it, and we can all move on."
She lunged forward, one hand reaching for my jaw to pry it open.
I didn't scream. Screaming would bring staff, but it would also give her an excuse to inject me as a 'combative, delusional patient.' Instead, with the last reserve of adrenaline in my wasted muscles, I grabbed the heavy glass water pitcher from my bedside table and smashed it across the side of her face.
The glass shattered with a deafening crack. Jennifer shrieked, stumbling backward as water and shards exploded across the linoleum. Blood instantly poured from a deep gash along her cheekbone.
"You crazy b—" she hissed, clutching her bleeding face.
Before she could recover, the door flew open.
A tall man in paramedic gear stepped into the room. Broad-shouldered, dark hair cropped close, with eyes like flint. Marcus Cole.
He didn't hesitate for a single second. In one fluid motion, Marcus stepped behind Jennifer, caught her in a clean sleeper hold, and applied pressure to her carotid artery. She thrashed for three seconds, her eyes rolling back, before slumping completely limp in his arms.
Marcus lowered her quietly to the floor, stripped the security badge off her scrub top, and turned to look at me.
"Still got a decent swing, Vance," he said, breathing steadily.
"Marcus," I choked out, the room swaying around me.
"We have four minutes before the floor supervisor does her rounds," he said, pulling a portable wheelchair from behind the door. "Can you stand?"
"I... I think so."
He didn't wait. He scooped me up in his arms as effortlessly as if I weighed nothing at all. He wrapped a heavy hospital blanket around me, pulled the hood of a medical jacket over my head, and set me in the chair.
"Hold this against your arm," he instructed, pressing a sterile gauze pad to my bleeding vein. "Keep your head down. Don't look at anyone."
As he wheeled me down the back service corridor toward the freight elevator, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with trembling fingers.
It was an automated security alert from my smart home system at our estate in Oak Brook.
A notification flashed on the screen:
*Master Bedroom Smart Lock unlocked by Ethan Vance at 8:14 PM.*
*Guest Access granted: Diane Vance.*
*Safe keypad accessed: Successful.*
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They hadn't even waited for morning. While I was supposed to be suffocating in my hospital bed, my husband and his mother were already emptying my wall safe.
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