Chapter 3
Chapter 3 - The Shadow in the Dark
The sudden silence of the ICU was deafening.
The continuous beep-beep-beep of my heart monitor cut out, replaced by the desperate click of backup generators struggling to kick in.
In the pitch black, Julian stopped groveling.
His frantic sobbing vanished,
replaced by an eerie, sudden stillness.
“Julian?” Dr. Caleb Reed’s voice cut through the dark, sharp and wary.
He reached for his pocket penlight.
Click.
The small beam of light illuminated the room, but Julian was no longer on his knees at the foot of my bed.
He was standing right beside my head.
The pathetic, sniveling husband who had been crying over lost twins seconds ago was gone.
His posture was rigid, his expression entirely devoid of remorse.
In the dim beam of the penlight, I saw his hand sliding beneath his suit jacket, pulling out a small, pre-filled syringe.
“You always were too resilient,
Nora,” Julian whispered, his voice dangerously low, stripped of all emotion.
“Selina told me you wouldn’t die from two simple punctures.
She said you were too stubborn.”
My blood ran cold.
The tears, the weeping, the flowers—it had all been an act to get past the police guards outside my door.
He hadn’t come to beg for forgiveness.
He had come to finish what he started.
“Julian, step back!” Dr. Caleb Reed yelled, lunging forward.
Julian swerved, shoving Dr. Caleb Reed hard against the metal supply cart.
The heavy tray crashed to the floor, sending medical tools scattering across the dark room.
Before Dr. Caleb Reed could recover,
Julian lunged toward my IV line, raising the needle to inject the clear liquid into my port.
“If you survive,” Julian hissed into my ear, “the police will listen to you.
Vance Global will fall.
I can’t let that happen.”
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t panic.
With every ounce of strength remaining in my healing abdomen,
I lifted my left wrist—the wrist wearing the smartwatch that was currently synced to the hospital’s cloud network via the local Wi-Fi—and pressed the side button.
A harsh, automated voice echoed from the smartwatch speaker, amplified across the dark room:
“Broadcasting audio stream to Chicago Police Department Emergency Dispatch… Connecting…”
Julian froze,
the tip of the syringe hovering a millimeter from my IV line.
From the watch speaker, the audio recorded three days ago played at full volume, filling the pitch-black ICU:
“She’s gone.
I… I did it, Selina.
Just like you said.
We’re free.”
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“What… what is that?!” Julian panicked, his eyes widening in terror as his own voice betrayed him.
Before he could react, the backup generators finally roared to life.
