Chapter 2 - WHAT WAS HIDDEN BEHIND THE FRAME
Isabella’s hand plunged into her leather handbag.
Gabriel’s hand instantly went to the holster at his waist, his body stepping between me and the elderly woman on the bed. “Don’t do it, Isabella.”
The room grew so quiet I could hear the rain lashing against the bedroom windows.
Eleanor’s cold fingers gripped my wrist with terrifying strength. She wasn’t looking at her daughter. She was staring at the large, gilded frame of the family portrait above the fireplace.
Isabella slowly pulled her hand out of the bag.
She wasn’t holding a weapon.
She was holding a heavy, tarnished silver medical case. It had a biometric lock on the front.
“You think you’re a hero, Miss Cole?” Isabella’s voice shook, thick with tears that hadn’t been there a moment ago. She looked completely exhausted, the mask of the arrogant billionaire heiress fracturing right in front of me. “You think stopping my brother’s IV makes you a savior? You have no idea what you’ve just set in motion.”
“I know Dr. Whitmore is poisoning your family,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
“He’s keeping us alive!” Isabella snapped, her composure breaking. “If Vincent misses a dose, his heart stops. If my mother misses a dose, her nervous system shuts down. Whitmore is the only one who has the stabilizing agent. He synthesizes it himself.”
I stared at the medical cooler in her hand. “That’s a lie. I’m a nurse. If they are in failure, they need a hospital, not a private cocktail in a bedroom.”
“Go to the fireplace,” Eleanor whispered, her voice raspy and desperate. “Please, Hannah.”
Gabriel didn’t take his eyes off Isabella. “Do what she says, Hannah. I’ve got this.”
I walked over to the massive stone fireplace. The portrait showed a younger Eleanor, her late husband, Vincent, and Isabella. But there was a gap between Vincent and his father. A strange, unnatural spacing.
I reached behind the heavy wooden frame. My fingers brushed against something taped to the back of the canvas.
I peeled it off.
It was a worn, folded piece of paper. I opened it carefully.
It was a child’s drawing. Done in bright blue crayon. A little boy holding the hand of a tall man with dark hair. At the bottom, written in clumsy, blocky letters, was a name: LEO.
But it wasn’t just a drawing. It was drawn on the back of an old, faded train ticket.
“Who is Leo?” I asked.
Isabella dropped the silver medical case. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. She covered her face with her hands, a jagged sob tearing from her throat.
Gabriel’s face drained of all color. He stepped forward, taking the drawing from my hand. His hands, which hadn’t trembled when Isabella reached into her bag, were shaking now.
“Vincent’s son,” Gabriel whispered.
I looked at him, confused. “Vincent has a child?”
“Vincent had a child,” Gabriel corrected, his voice hollow. “Leo died in a car accident five years ago. I pulled Vincent out of the wreckage myself. The boy didn’t make it.”
“He’s alive,” Eleanor cried from the bed, weeping openly now. “He’s alive, Gabriel. Whitmore took him from the wreckage. He’s been holding him hostage for five years.”
I felt the blood freeze in my veins. I looked at the drawing. The date on the train ticket was from two weeks ago.
“Answer me, Isabella,” Gabriel commanded, his voice lethal.
Isabella lowered her hands. Her makeup was ruined, her eyes wild with panic. “Whitmore works for the rival family in New York. They took Leo to keep Vincent in line. If Vincent dies, they take our territory. If Vincent disobeys, they kill Leo. The poison in the IV is just to keep Vincent too weak to fight back.”
A sickening realization washed over me. I had just stopped Vincent’s IV. I had sent him to a public hospital, out of Whitmore’s control.
I had broken the rules of the hostage exchange.
Suddenly, Gabriel’s radio cracked to life. Static hissed, followed by the frantic voice of a security guard from the front gate.
“Gabriel! We have a breach! Two black SUVs just crashed through the outer gates. They’re armed, and they’re demanding the nurse.”
I froze.
Gabriel looked at me, then at the child’s drawing, and finally kicked the silver medical case across the floor to Isabella.
“They aren’t here for you,” Gabriel said to me, pulling his weapon. “They’re here for what you’re holding.”
He reached into his pocket and tossed me a heavy set of keys.
May you like
“Take the servant’s stairs. Get to the hospital. Show Vincent that drawing.” Gabriel chambered a round. “Do not let anyone stop you.”
Before I could move, the bedroom door shattered inward, wood splintering violently into the room.
