Chapter 5 - THE NURSE IN BLUE
“Don't move,” the young nurse whispered, her hand trembling violently, but the needle pressing firmly against the Chief of Surgery’s carotid artery.
Dr. Evans froze. “Are you insane, Emily? Put that down.”
Emily. That was her name. She had worked on the fourth floor for six months, always quiet, always keeping her head down.
“Emily, what are you doing?” I asked, stepping forward slowly.
Tears streamed down her face. “He killed my father, Helen. Just like he killed your husband.”
The room went entirely still.
“Your father?” Julian asked.
“Marcus Vance isn't the only criminal they hide in the VIP rooms,” Emily cried. “My father was an investigative journalist. He was looking into the hospital’s finances last year. He was admitted for a routine appendectomy and never woke up. Dr. Evans signed the death certificate.”
Evans swallowed hard. “Emily, you are making a massive mistake.”
“I took this job to find proof,” she said to me, ignoring him. “And I found it tonight. While Celeste and Evans were busy at the gala, I got into her office. I found the ledger.”
She reached into her scrub pocket with her free hand and tossed a small, black leather-bound book onto the floor.
Julian picked it up. He flipped through the pages.
“My god,” Julian breathed. “It’s all here. The bribes. The fake diagnoses. The payoffs to the medical examiner.”
“Give it to me,” Evans demanded, reaching for it.
Emily pushed the needle a millimeter deeper. “I said don't move.”
“Emily, please,” I said gently. “If you inject him, you go to prison. You lose everything. Your father wouldn't want this.”
“The police won't do anything!” she sobbed. “They own the police!”
“They don't own me,” Julian said, his voice ringing with newfound authority. “Emily, look at me.”
She slowly shifted her gaze to the billionaire.
“I own this hospital,” Julian said. “And as of right now, I am dismantling it. I will hand this ledger to the FBI myself. I will testify. I will burn my own family’s legacy to the ground to put this man behind bars.”
Emily looked at the ledger, then at Julian’s resolute face.
Slowly, she lowered the syringe.
Before Evans could run, Thomas stepped forward and cracked his heavy wooden cane sharply against the doctor's shin.
Evans cried out and collapsed to the floor.
“That’s for Mr. Alvarez,” Thomas said coldly.
Julian pulled a zip-tie from a nearby medical cart and bound Evans's hands together.
“Helen,” Julian said, turning to me. “Where did Celeste go?”
I thought back to the basement. Celeste hadn't followed us. She had pulled out her burner phone.
“She’s running,” I said. “She knows it’s over.”
“She can't leave,” Thomas said, pointing to the ledger. “Without her offshore account codes, she has no money. And those codes are in her office safe.”
We left Emily guarding Evans and sprinted for the executive wing.
When we reached the glass doors of the administrative suite, they were shattered.
Inside, Celeste’s office was completely trashed. Files were everywhere.
And standing in front of the open wall safe was Celeste Vaughn.
But she wasn't alone.
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Standing behind her, holding a suppressed pistol to her back, was the VIP patient from Room 412. Marcus Vance.
And he was wearing my husband’s missing wedding ring on his pinky finger.
