Chapter 2 - The Specimen Bag
The paper felt impossibly heavy in Adeline’s palm. The ink was slightly smeared, as if the writer had been sweating or shaking when they penned the warning. She looked down the long, dim corridor of the third floor, listening. The house was dead silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the HVAC system and the distant ticking of an antique grandfather clock downstairs.
The brakes didn't fail.
Adeline folded the paper tightly, sliding it into the deep pocket of her scrubs. She didn't have time to process the existential dread tightening around her chest; she needed proof. Theories didn't save lives, and they certainly didn't pay for Wes's upcoming surgery.
She hurried down to the ground-floor medical annex, her sneakers making no sound on the high-pile rugs. The annex was Nico’s private sanctuary—a mini-clinic outfitted with a hospital bed, a ceiling lift track, and a locked narcotics cabinet that only she and the head physician possessed the keys to.
Or so she had been told.
As she pushed the door open, the faint scent of antiseptic and old paper hit her senses. Something was wrong. The air felt stale, disturbed.
Adeline flicked on the small desk lamp rather than the overhead lights, casting long, fractured shadows across the medical monitors. Her eyes darted straight to the corner where her locker stood.
The padlock was hanging open.
A cold spike of adrenaline pierced her chest. She rushed forward, ripping the metal door wide open. The shelves inside had been tossed. Her spare scrubs were thrown on the floor, and the old canvas shoe—the one where she had tucked the specimen bag containing the suspicious white tablets—was turned upside down.
The bag was gone.
"Looking for this?"
Adeline whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Marcus Vance stood leaning against the doorframe of the annex. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing pale, hairless skin and a gold signet ring on his right hand. In his fingers, he held the small plastic specimen bag, turning it over lazily. The white pills rattled softly inside.
"How did you get in here?" Adeline demanded, keeping her voice low, fighting the panic clawing at her throat. "That’s private medical property. Tampering with patient samples is a federal offense."
Marcus offered a thin, humorless smile. "Adeline, sweet girl. In a house like this, federal offenses are just line items in the legal budget. More importantly, what were you planning to do with these?"
"Hand them over to the toxicology lab in Chicago," she lied smoothly, taking a half-step forward. "Nico’s blood panels don't match his prescription. Someone is altering his medication, Marcus. If you have any decency left—"
"Decency?" Marcus chuckled, a dry, grating sound. He pushed off the doorframe and walked slowly toward her, his movements predatory. "Decency doesn't keep the Alfieri shipping empire afloat. Decency doesn't pay the multi-million-dollar settlements we’ve quietly negotiated over the past six months. Nico is broken. Everyone knows it. Camille is going to inherit the controlling shares the day they sign the marriage license. A dead husband leaves a very clean, very manageable widow."
"He’s not dead yet," Adeline said, her hand instinctively slipping into her pocket to grip the folded paper chart.
"No, but he’s remarkably inconvenient," Marcus replied, stopping just an arm's length away. He held up the bag of pills. "Here is how this is going to work. You are going to take your little brother's surgery bills, hand them to me, and I will write you a check from my personal account that clears every single debt your family has. In exchange, you are going to pack your bag, walk out the front door, and forget you ever learned how to spell Alfieri."
Adeline looked at the pills, then up into Marcus’s cold, dead eyes. She thought of Cicero. She thought of Wes sitting by the radiator, folding paper cranes, telling her not to worry before dinner.
The price of her brother's life was sitting in a plastic bag in the hand of a murderer.
"And if I say no?" Adeline asked softly.
Marcus didn't blink. "Then tomorrow morning, the medical board will receive an anonymous tip that our new private nurse was dismissed for stealing controlled substances from a paralyzed patient. Your license will be revoked before noon. You’ll never work in healthcare again, and Wes’s surgeon will turn him away at the door."
Before Marcus could finish his sentence, the heavy automated door of the annex slid open with a soft hiss.
Nico sat in his wheelchair, his knuckles gripping the wheels. His face was pale, shadowed by the dim light, but his eyes burned with a cold, absolute fury.
"Leave her alone, Marcus," Nico said.
Marcus turned, his expression shifting instantly back to polite corporate mask. "Nico. You should be resting. We were just discussing Miss Marsh's... compensation package."
"She’s not going anywhere," Nico said, rolling forward until he was right between them. He looked up at his manager, the height difference irrelevant against the sheer weight of Nico's presence. "And if you ever touch her locker again, Marcus, I won't just ruin your career. I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your natural life trying to figure out which of your business partners sold you out first."
Marcus stared at Nico for a long, tense beat. Slowly, deliberately, he dropped the plastic specimen bag onto Nico’s lap.
"You’re playing a very dangerous game with a dying man's legacy, Nico," Marcus whispered. He turned and walked out into the dark hallway.
May you like
As his footsteps faded, Nico looked down at the bag of pills, then up at Adeline.
"Well," Nico said, a grim, self-deprecating smile touching his lips. "It looks like we have a lot of work to do."
