Chapter 2 - The Awakening in Room 412
The smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor greeted Elena when she opened her eyes two days later.
Her waist burned with a dull, throbbing pain where the infusion set had been violently ripped away. An IV line was taped to the back of her left hand, slowly dripping fluids into her veins.
"Take it easy," a quiet, deep voice spoke from the corner of the room.
Elena turned her head slowly. Sitting in a faux-leather chair by the window was Alexander Vance. He had shed his server disguise; now he wore a sharp charcoal suit with a white shirt open at the collar. A tall glass of orange juice and a dish of glucose chews sat on the tray beside him.
"Where... where am I?" she rasped.
"St. Jude’s Memorial, Intensive Care," Alexander said, standing up and pouring her a glass of fresh water. He handed it to her, his fingers lightly brushing hers. "You’ve been unconscious for forty-eight hours. The toxin Evelyn mixed into the wine was a dark-web pharmaceutical meant to induce respiratory failure while mimicking a diabetic coma. If we hadn't pumped your stomach within twenty minutes, your brain would have been permanently starved of oxygen."
Tears trickled down Elena’s cheeks, hot and bitter. "She tried to kill me."
"She tried to remove you," Alexander corrected gently, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Evelyn Blackwood doesn't tolerate weakness, and more importantly, she doesn't tolerate anyone who threatens her control over her sons."
"And Grant?" Elena asked, though she already knew the answer.
Alexander’s jaw tightened. "Grant came to the lobby yesterday with his family’s team of lawyers. He offered to pay all your medical expenses and give you a one-million-dollar 'settlement' if you signed an affidavit claiming the incident was a tragic misunderstanding brought on by your low blood sugar."
A dry, bitter laugh escaped Elena’s lips. "One million dollars to pretend his mother didn't try to murder me."
"I took the liberty of having hospital security escort him off the premises," Alexander said, a faint smile touching his lips. "He left crying about his family's reputation."
"Thank you," she whispered. "Who are you really, Alexander?"
"I’m an investigator with the Financial and Violent Crimes Task Force," he explained. "For the past six months, I’ve been undercover investigating the Blackwood Group. We suspected Evelyn and Julian of laundering money through off-shore charities and using blackmail—and occasionally illegal toxins—to eliminate business rivals. I was at the wedding to retrieve financial servers hidden at Bellefleur Manor. I didn't expect to witness a murder attempt."
Before Elena could answer, the door to the room clicked open. Chloe walked in, looking exhausted, her eyes rimmed with red. She stopped dead when she saw Alexander.
"Elena..." Chloe began, her voice trembling. "Oh God, Elena."
"Chloe," Elena said coldly. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon in Paris with Julian?"
Chloe flinched. "The honeymoon was canceled. Julian's lawyers are trying to secure bail for Evelyn, but the judge refused it. Elena, I... I didn't know Mom—I mean, Evelyn—was going to do that. I thought you were just playing up your symptoms like she said!"
"You watched her throw my insulin pump into the trash, Chloe!" Elena shouted, her heart monitor spiking. "You watched her force wine down my throat while I was dying! You didn't protect me. You protected your dress!"
"I was terrified!" Chloe sobbed, dropping to her knees by the bed. "The Blackwoods own everything! Julian told me if I made a scene, he’d annul the marriage and ruin Dad's business! I was weak, Elena. I was so stupid!"
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Alexander stepped between Chloe and the bed. "Mrs. Blackwood, your sister needs rest. If you are here to offer an apology, leave it at the door. If you are here to plead for your mother-in-law, I suggest you retain a defense lawyer of your own, because this investigation is expanding."
Chloe looked at Alexander, then at her sister's stone-cold expression. She realized, with a wave of sickening guilt, that the fragile sister she had always pitied was gone—and in her place was a woman who was done being victimized.
