Chapter 2 - The Ghost of St. Jude’s
The smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic, high-pitched beep of a heart monitor dragged me back to the land of the living. My eyes fluttered open, squinting against the harsh, white glare of fluorescent hospital lights. Every nerve ending in my body felt as though it were on fire. My throat was dry, parched like a desert.
Instinct took over before thought. My hand, heavy and weak, traveled down to my abdomen.
It was flat.
Panic, cold and sharp, seized my chest. The heart monitor’s beeping spiked into a frantic, erratic squeal.
"Easy, Mrs. Ashford. Easy. Breathe," a soft, firm voice commanded. A hand gently pressed against my shoulder, keeping me anchored to the bed.
I turned my head, my eyes adjusting to focus on a woman in teal scrubs. She had kind, tired eyes and dark hair pulled back in a practical clip. Her name tag read Dr. Sarah Chen, Chief of Obstetrics.
"My baby..." My voice was a raspy, broken shadow of its former self. "Where is my baby?"
Dr. Chen’s expression softened, carrying the heavy weight of a doctor about to deliver life-altering news. "Your son is in the NICU, Evelyn. He was delivered via emergency C-section. He’s very small, and his lungs are underdeveloped, but he is alive. He is fighting."
A ragged sob escaped my throat, a mixture of profound relief and agonizing pain. "He’s alive... thank God, he’s alive."
"But we need to talk, Evelyn," Dr. Chen said, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. She looked toward the small window in the heavy oak door of the private recovery room. "Your husband is outside. He has been here for twelve hours, playing the devastated husband to the press and the hospital board. He told the police you suffered a dizzy spell and fell."
I closed my eyes, the memory of Julian’s cold smile flashing behind my eyelids. "He pushed me, Dr. Chen. He and his mistress, Nicole Blake. They took my recorder. They wanted us to die."
Dr. Chen didn't look surprised; she looked deeply, gravely concerned. "I suspected as much. The bruising on your shoulders and upper arms doesn't align with a simple forward fall. It looks like you were forcefully shoved. But Julian Ashford is a powerful man. He has already quieted the local police precinct. The detective assigned to your case is one of Julian’s charity board members."
A cold dread settled in my stomach. Julian had the city in his pocket. If I stayed here, if I tried to fight him within the system he owned, he would find a way to finish what he started. He would take my son, or he would make sure neither of us ever left this hospital.
"I have to get out of here," I said, struggling to sit up. The incision across my lower abdomen screamed in protest, and I gasped, clutching my stomach.
"You can't leave, Evelyn. You've just had major abdominal surgery, you have two broken ribs, and a fractured collarbone," Dr. Chen insisted, holding me down. "But... I can help you hide."
I looked at her, searching her eyes for any sign of betrayal. "Why would you risk your career for me?"
"Because three years ago, a young woman came into my emergency room with injuries very similar to yours," Dr. Chen said, her eyes darkening with old grief. "She was married to one of Julian’s closest business partners. She tried to speak out, and three days later, she died of a 'sudden pulmonary embolism' in her sleep. I won't let them do it again. Not on my watch."
She leaned in closer, her voice barely a breath. "Julian believes you are still comatose under heavy sedation. He left the hospital twenty minutes ago to attend a press conference to 'address the tragic family accident.' We have a small window of time. I have a contact—a transport team that doesn't ask questions. But if we do this, Evelyn, you have to disappear completely. You have to become a ghost."
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I looked toward the door, imagining Julian’s handsome, smiling face on the television screens downstairs, spinning his lies. Then, I thought of my son, hook up to tubes in the NICU, fighting for his life.
"Do it," I whispered. "Make me a ghost."
