I remained perfectly still in my hospital bed at St. Catherine’s in Boston, letting the steady rhythm of the heart monitor convince anyone watching that the morphine had pulled me deep under.
It hadn’t.
My body felt heavy, slow—but my mind was wide awake.
The room carried that sharp hospital scent—antiseptic mixed with plastic tubing. My IV dripped steadily beside me, each drop a quiet reminder of how fragile I must have looked.
The door opened softly.
Two pairs of footsteps entered. Careful. Calculated.
Ryan spoke first, his voice low and confident. “She’s completely out,” he murmured. “They’ve got her loaded.”
A soft laugh followed—breathy, pleased.
Sienna Blake.
I’d seen her name once glowing on his phone screen late at night. I had chosen not to ask questions back then. Now her perfume lingered near my pillow, expensive and invasive.
Ryan leaned closer. I felt the warmth of his breath against my cheek.
“Once she’s gone,” he whispered, “everything will be ours.”
The nausea hit instantly, curling through my stomach and pulling at my stitches. I wanted to flinch, to recoil—but I stayed limp, face smooth, breath even.
Sienna let out a quiet giggle. “I’ve been waiting for this, baby. You said the accounts are almost moved?”
“Almost,” Ryan replied. “Her signature’s the only thing slowing it down. But that won’t matter soon. She won’t need anything where she’s going.”
The cruelty didn’t just hurt.
It sharpened everything.
Like ice water thrown in my face.
Then came another sound—the soft roll of a medication cart. Rubber soles against tile.
A nurse stepped in and reached for my IV line.
She adjusted it with practiced hands—
And suddenly stopped.
The pause was small, but heavy.
Her voice came out calm, flat, unmistakable.
“Mr. Carter… she can hear you.”
Silence crashed into the room.
Ryan stumbled over his words. “That’s not possible. She’s sedated.”
The nurse didn’t waver. “Her heart rate spiked when you started talking. And you’re standing too close.”
I felt him step back. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know his face had drained of color.
Sienna shifted nervously; her heels clicked once on the floor.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Because now I understood something he didn’t.
He believed this bed was the place I would fade away.
