Chapter 3 - THE TOXICOLOGY REPORT
The hospital room smelled of sterile alcohol and the faint, comforting scent of my father's old aftershave. He was sleeping, his chest rising and falling steadily under the crisp white sheets. The attending physician handed me the file, his expression grim. Vivian hadn’t just been over-medicating him; she had been introducing heavy sedatives that counteracted his heart medication.
"It's a lethal cocktail, Miss Hale," the doctor murmured. "Given another week, his heart would have simply stopped. They would have called it natural causes from the accident."
My blood turned to ice, but my mind sharpened into a blade. I didn't just want Vivian and Marcus out of the house. I wanted them in a concrete cell. I opened my laptop on the small hospital tray table and began filing the emergency injunctions. Hale Construction was bleeding, but the tourniquet was about to be applied.
