Chapter 12 - THE MIDNIGHT VISITATION
Before Willa could copy the files to a secondary backup disk, the sharp, rapid vibration of her cell phone on the bedside table made her jump.
It was a text message from an unknown local number.
“Discharge papers for Ruth Hayes at Sunnyview Memory Care have been moved up to 9:00 AM tomorrow morning. Unless signed off by proxy, she will be transferred to Cook County Ward 4. Don't test me, nurse.”
Sterling.
A cold wave of rage and terror washed over Willa. He was accelerating his timeline. With Everett still paralyzed and her locked in the estate, Sterling was moving to isolate her completely by targeting her mother.
“No,” Willa whispered fiercely, her hands trembling as she closed the laptop.
She stood up and paced the length of the intensive-care suite. If she left the estate to save her mother, Sterling’s guards would lock her out permanently, and Everett would be left unprotected under Whitfield’s lethal injections. If she stayed, her mother would be swallowed by the nightmarish bureaucratic maze of a county facility.
She was trapped between her flesh-and-blood mother and the man fighting for his life in front of her.
A heavy, calloused hand suddenly gripped the edge of the mattress sheet.
Willa stopped dead in her tracks. She snapped her head toward the bed.
Everett’s eyes weren't closed anymore.
They were cracked open just a sliver, revealing a gaze as cold, dark, and sharp as crushed obsidian. He wasn't fully awake—the heavy sedatives still anchored his body—but his mind was fiercely, terrifyingly present.
He looked from Willa to the rugged laptop sitting on the floor, then back to Willa’s face. Slowly, painfully, his thumb dragged across the sheet, pointing toward the door, then pressing firmly against his own chest.
Go, the movement screamed. Protect her. I am right here.
May you like
Willa let out a choked sob, tears spilling over her lashes. She rushed to the bedside, pressing her hand over his warm knuckles.
“I’ll go,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’ll stop them. But I’m coming back before Whitfield’s morning round. Hang on to me, Everett. Don’t let go.”
