Chapter 41
No.1
The black, bulletproof SUV tore through the torrential Manhattan rain.
It slammed to a violent halt in front of the discreet,unmarked entrance of an Upper East Side concierge medicine clinic. The heavy tires hissed against the flooded asphalt.
The rear door flew open before the vehicle even fully settled.
Alastair Cromwell stepped out into the storm. He reached into the dark cabin and pulled Elisa out. She was wrapped tightly in a thick, dry cashmere blanket he had brought, but her body was still vibrating with violent, uncontrollable tremors.
Her lips were a terrifying shade of bruised purple.
The heavy glass doors of the clinic slid open. Aisling Walsh, the senior head nurse, was already waiting with a wheelchair. She didn't ask questions. In this tax bracket, discretion was part of the medical fee.
Aisling grabbed Elisa's arm, her professional fingers immediately registering the ice-cold temperature of Elisa's skin.
She pushed the wheelchair rapidly down the pristine,brightly lit corridor, steering Elisa directly into a VIP climate-controlled recovery suite.
Alastair followed close behind. He stood at the foot of the hospital bed, his tailored suit dripping water onto the sterile floor.
He watched as Aisling quickly inserted an IV needle into the back of Elisa's pale, shivering hand. A dark,rare flash of pure, homicidal rage crossed Alastair's usually calm eyes.
Elisa ignored the sting of the needle.
No.2
Her fingers, stiff and clumsy from the cold, fumbled beneath the folds of the cashmere blanket. She pulled out a damp, folded piece of paper. It was the fifteen-million-dollar check. It had been warmed slightly by the desperate heat of her own chest.
She held her trembling hand out toward Alastair.
"Take it," Elisa rasped. Her voice sounded like
crushed glass. "Put it in the offshore trust. Now."
Alastair stepped forward and took the damp paper.He looked at the staggering amount written in August's bold handwriting. He didn't ask where she got it. He simply nodded, folding it into his breast pocket.
Right as he secured the check, his phone vibrated violently against his ribs.
He pulled it out. It was an emergency call from the Aethel board of directors on Wall Street. He looked at Elisa, his jaw tight with frustration.
"Go," Elisa whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as the warm saline began to hit her bloodstream. "I am safe here."
Alastair gave her one last look before turning and walking out of the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
The heated fluids flowed through the plastic tube and into Elisa's veins.
The violent shivering slowly began to subside. She kept her eyes closed. The sterile smell of the clinic
No.3
faded, replaced in her mind by the sweet, innocent voice of Kayden speaking French through the phone screen.
I will build a giant umbrella.
That tiny, fierce promise acted like a defibrillator to Elisa's heart. The organ, which had felt frozen solid an hour ago, began to pump with a steady,aggressive rhythm.
Thirty minutes later, the blue tint had completely vanished from her lips.
Elisa reached over and callously ripped the medical tape off the back of her hand. She pulled the IV needle out, pressing a cotton swab against the small bead of blood.
She stood up. Her legs were steady. She stripped off her ruined, soaked clothes and pulled on the fresh,high-end silk hospital scrubs Aisling hadleft on the chair.
She needed caffeine. Her brain was moving too fast,calculating the next ten steps of her war.
She pushed open the door of the recovery suite and
stepped out into the quiet, carpeted hallway. She walked toward the glow of the high-end vending machine at the far end of the corridor.
As she rounded the corner, a piercing, ear-splitting scream shattered the absolute silence of the VIP wing.
Elisa stopped dead in her tracks.
No.4
She looked through the gaps in the decorative indoor bamboo planters. Thirty feet away, outside the pediatric intensive care unit, stood August Chambers.
He was crouching on the floor.
He was speaking in a low, incredibly patient, soothing voice to a young boy throwing a massive tantrum.It was Tate, Allena's seven-year-old brother.
Tate's face was red with fury over a minor scrape on his arm. He screamed again, snatching a small glass bottle of antiseptic from a startled nurse's hand and hurling it at the wall.
The glass shattered. The sharp sound echoed down the hall.
August didn't flinch. He didn't yell.
Instead, he reached out and gently stroked Tate's hair.He looked up at the terrified nurse and offered a polite, apologetic smile. Then, he looked back at Tate and promised, in a voice dripping with affection,to buy him the limited-edition Lego set he wanted if he calmed down.
Elisa stood frozen behind the bamboo.
A wave of pure, physiological nausea hit her stomach so hard she almost doubled over.
She looked at this massive, powerful man-the same man who had just thrown her out of a moving car into a freezing hurricane-acting like the perfect, doting father to his mistress's spoiled brother.
She thought of Kayden. Her brilliant, perfect daughter who had never once seen her father's face.
No.5
Bile burned the back of Elisa's throat.
"Mr. Chambers is remarkably patient."
Elisa turned her head slightly. Aisling, the head nurse,was standing a few feet away, holding a clipboard with Elisa's vitals. Aisling wasn't speaking to Elisa.
She was murmuring in a low, discreet whisper to a junior nurse beside her, both of them staring down the hall at August with soft, admiring smiles.
"I know," the junior nurse whispered back, adjusting a chart. "To be that devoted to his... companion's little brother. It's rare to see a man of that status act so fatherly."
Elisa's lips parted. A smile formed on her mouth, but it was a terrifying, skeletal thing. It held absolutely zero warmth.
The junior nurse caught the movement and immediately lowered her head, scurrying away to check on another suite. Aisling, maintaining her professional composure, stepped forward to hand Elisa a small cup of water, completely oblivious to the radioactive tension she had just triggered.
Elisa slowly turned her head back to look at August.Her eyes were dead, black voids.
"Yes," Elisa murmured, not to the nurse, but to the empty air between them. Her voice was flat, carrying the chill of a morgue. "A wonderful, fatherly man.What a brilliant, sickening joke."
Aisling blinked, her professional smile faltering for a fraction of a second. The sheer, freezing hostility radiating from Elisa's posture made the nurse take a subconscious step backward. The air in the corridor suddenly felt thick and suffocating.
Elisa didn't bother to explain.
No.6
She stepped away from the nurse and walked straight to the vending machine. She pulled a quarter from the pocket of her silk scrubs and shoved it into the slot. She pressed the button for the blackest,most bitter coffee available.
The heavy paper cup dropped into the dispenser with a loud,hollow thud.
The sound carried perfectly down the empty corridor.
Down the hall, August stopped rubbing Tate's back.He stood up slowly. He turned his head, his dark eyes scanning the length of the hallway.
His gaze locked onto the woman in the silk scrubs standing by the machine.
August's pupils contracted violently.
+120 Points at most
His brain struggled to process the image. He had left her on the FDR Drive in a torrential downpour. She should be wandering the streets, broken and begging for help. Yet here she was, inside the most exclusive private clinic in Manhattan, looking perfectly composed.
His eyes darted to the small square of medical tape on the back of her hand, and the unnatural pallor of her skin. A microscopic, needle-like prick of panic hit his chest, a fleeting realization of what he had actually done to her physically.
But his massive ego instantly crushed the guilt.
His jaw locked. The muscles in his neck tightened.He convinced himself instantly that she had stalked him here. She was playing a sick, manipulative game of sympathy.
No.7
He leaned down, whispered a final promise to Tate,and then turned fully toward Elisa.
He began to walk. His long legs ate up the distance,his broad shoulders radiating a dark, oppressive threat.
Elisa picked up the steaming paper cup. She didn't
+120 Points at most
retreat. She didn't look away. She lifted the cup to her lips and gently blew the steam away, watching the monster approach with the detached interest of a scientist observing a rat.
August stopped two feet in front of her. His massive frame completely blocked the overhead light, casting a heavy shadow over her face.
"What the hell are you doing here?" August demanded, his voice a low, vibrating growl of absolute authority.