Chapter 6 - THE FIRE ALARM
The sterile smell of the hospital room suddenly felt like the inside of a coffin.
Julian held my newborn daughter just inches from my reach, weaponizing the tiny, fragile life I had fought so hard to protect.
"Give her to me," I demanded, my voice trembling with a fierce, primal rage that cut straight through the heavy narcotics in my system. I reached out, my IV lines pulling taut.
Julian stepped back, just out of reach, shaking his head with a mockingly tragic expression.
"Now, Victoria, let's not make a scene," Julian tutted, shifting the pink bundle in his arms. "The psychiatric transport team is waiting in the hallway. If you scream, they will simply strap you down and sedate you. And I will walk out the front doors a grieving, heroic single father."
He had thought of everything. He had completely insulated himself with his wealth and his lies.
I looked at the red ledger resting on the foot of my bed. He had the physical evidence. He had Marcus arrested. He had won.
But as I stared at Julian’s bandaged face, I realized he had made one critical mistake.
He didn't know about the silver locket.
When I handed the items to Marcus in the ER, Julian assumed the ledger was the only piece of evidence. He didn't know I had found the receipt for the Geneva flight, or the note explaining his betrayal of Chloe. He didn't know I had the Polaroid photograph of Eleanor murdering my father.
If the security chief only confiscated the ledger from Marcus, then Marcus still had the locket in police custody.
I just needed to buy time for the police to find it when they inventoried his belongings.
"You can't run a real estate empire from a hospital room, Julian," I said, forcing my voice to remain calm, adopting the icy boardroom persona that had built my company. "If you commit me, the board of directors will demand a full audit of my personal accounts before they authorize a transfer of power. They know I wouldn't step down willingly."
Julian’s good eye narrowed slightly. I had hit a nerve.
"I am the CEO, Victoria. The board answers to me."
"The board answers to the majority shareholder," I corrected, leaning back against the pillows, pretending a confidence I didn't feel. "Which is me. If you want a smooth transition without an SEC investigation into your offshore accounts, you need my signature on a corporate proxy form. Not a psychiatric hold."
Julian hesitated. His greed was his greatest weakness. He wanted the money clean. He wanted to walk away without looking over his shoulder for federal agents.
"I will sign the proxy," I lied smoothly. "I will sign over the entire company, the estate, everything. But I keep the baby. And you leave the country today."
Julian looked at the baby in his arms, then back at me. He laughed, a dry, cruel sound.
"You really think you are in a position to negotiate?" Julian sneered.
"I know I am," I said, pointing a shaking finger at him. "Because Chloe is dead."
The lie slipped out effortlessly, a desperate gamble based on nothing but instinct.
Julian froze.
"What?" he breathed.
"A nurse was talking outside my door before you came in," I fabricated rapidly, watching the color drain from his face. "Chloe died in surgery an hour ago. And since Eleanor isn't her biological mother, the hospital called Chloe's emergency contact to authorize the autopsy. Which means they called her lawyer. The lawyer who holds her safety deposit box, Julian."
Julian’s confident posture completely shattered.
"She doesn't have a safety deposit box," he stammered, gripping the baby tighter.
"Yes, she does," I said, pouring poison into his ear. "And it’s filled with every email, every text, and every bank transfer between you and Eleanor regarding my father's death. She kept it as insurance against you. And now the lawyer has it."
Julian panicked. His eyes darted toward the door, his mind racing to calculate how fast the police would arrive once the lawyer opened the box.
"You're lying," Julian hissed, but the terror in his voice betrayed him.
"Call the front desk," I challenged. "Ask them if Chloe is dead."
Julian backed away toward the door, his hand reaching for the knob. He was going to run.
But he was taking my daughter with him.
I couldn't let him leave the room with her.
As Julian turned his back to me to open the heavy wooden door, I reached down to the side of my hospital bed. My fingers found the heavy, plastic control box for the bed's hydraulic system.
I ripped it entirely from the wall socket, exposing the thick electrical wires.
With a surge of adrenaline, I slammed the exposed, sparking wires directly against the metal frame of the heavy oxygen tank standing next to my bed.
The sparks ignited the concentrated oxygen instantly.
A massive, blinding flash of fire erupted on the side of my bed, triggering the hospital room’s smoke detector immediately.
The shrill, deafening shriek of the fire alarm tore through the building.
The ceiling sprinklers activated, raining freezing cold water down on everything.
Julian screamed in surprise, spinning around, raising his arm to shield his face from the water and the smoke.
The heavy wooden door burst open.
Three nurses and a hospital security guard rushed into the room, shouting wildly.
"Fire! Get the baby out!" a nurse screamed, rushing forward and ripping the crying newborn directly out of Julian's arms before he could even process what was happening.
"No, wait!" Julian shouted, trying to grab the baby back.
But the security guard, seeing a man aggressively lunging at a nurse in a burning room, tackled Julian to the wet linoleum floor.
"Get him out of here!" the nurse yelled, shielding my daughter.
I laid back against the wet pillows, gasping for air, the pain in my stomach excruciating, but a triumphant smile spreading across my face.
May you like
My daughter was safe in the nurse's arms.
And Julian was trapped.
