Chapter 5 - The Sabotage Unfolds
By late afternoon, Lily had stabilized enough to be moved out of the intensive care unit into a private recovery room on the fourth floor.
The color had returned to her cheeks, and she was sitting up in bed, happily coloring in a picture book Felix had bought her from the hospital gift shop while eating spoonfuls of vanilla pudding.
Sarah sat beside her, laughing softly as Lily proudly displayed a bright blue crayon sun.
“Look, Mommy! I made the sky hot!” Lily giggled.
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” Sarah smiled, brushing a stray curl from her daughter’s forehead.
Felix stood by the doorway, talking quietly in low tones with the new pediatric specialist who had just reviewed Lily’s chart.
“Her lung capacity is responding well to the nebulizer treatments,” the doctor said, holding a clipboard. “We’ll keep her overnight for observation, and barring any unforeseen allergic reactions or sudden bronchial spasms, she should be discharged by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Felix said, shaking the specialist’s hand firmly. “Please ensure her IV line and medication schedules are strictly monitored. I want private nursing staff assigned to this room around the clock, billed directly to my personal account.”
“Already arranged, Mr. Kingsley. A nurse will be in every two hours for routine checks and medication flushes.”
As the doctor walked away, Felix turned back toward the bed, feeling a profound sense of relief washing over him. The corporate storm outside felt distant, irrelevant. They had survived the worst.
Or so he thought.
Down on the ground floor, near the employee exit of St. Catherine’s Memorial, a woman in a dark woolen coat walked briskly toward the parking garage.
Her name was Brenda Vance. Until three weeks ago, she had been the night-shift head nurse in the pediatric ward before being fired for protocol violations. Now, she was carrying a heavy white envelope stuffed with ten thousand dollars in unmarked hundred-dollar bills—an advance payment wired from an offshore account registered in the Cayman Islands under the corporate umbrella of Arden Consulting.
Brenda’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
A single text message from an unknown number: Is it done?
May you like
Brenda tapped her reply: The evening shift change is at seven. The new nurse is fresh out of nursing school and won't check the batch numbers. The modified vial is already in the medication drawer of Room 412. By eight o'clock, the child will have another attack—one that epinephrine won't fix.
She hit send, pocketed the phone, and pushed open the heavy glass doors into the freezing evening air, disappearing into the crowd of rush-hour commuters.
