PART 3: The Woman Who Wasn’t Supposed to Be There

At 6:30 the next morning, Chloe arrived carrying a white envelope.

I recognized her perfume before I heard her heels.

“Good morning, darling.”

Her voice was sweet enough to make a stranger believe she was visiting the love of her life.

I remained motionless.

She placed the envelope on the bedside table and pulled a chair close to my bed.

“I know you can’t hear me,” she murmured. “But I thought we should have one last conversation.”

She took my hand.

Her fingers were cold.

“I really did love you once, Julian.”

For a brief, humiliating moment, I wanted to believe her.

Then she laughed softly.

“Do you remember the night you proposed? You rented the entire rooftop restaurant and filled it with roses. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman in Manhattan.”

She brushed her thumb over my engagement ring.

“I remember thinking how easy it would be to make you trust me.”

My chest tightened beneath the bandages.

She leaned closer.

“Anthony says the transfer is ready. All we need is your death certificate and the medical confirmation. After that, the money will be mine.”

She paused.

“And before you judge me, darling, remember that you offered me a future built entirely on your terms. You wanted a beautiful wife who smiled at your parties, wore your diamonds, and never questioned your decisions.”

Her voice hardened.

“I was tired of being your decoration.”

I had spent millions making Chloe feel important.

I’d introduced her to presidents, business leaders, and people whose names appeared on the covers of magazines.

But apparently, what she wanted was something I had never considered giving her.

Power without me.

She stood and adjusted her dress.

“By Friday, everything will be over.”

She bent to kiss my forehead.

Then she whispered one final sentence.

“I’m sorry about Nico. He wasn’t supposed to die.”

My mind went blank.

Nico.

She knew.

She had just admitted that she knew the brakes had been sabotaged.

I wanted to open my eyes and scream at her.

Instead, I let her believe I was dead to the world.

Chloe straightened, picked up her handbag, and walked toward the door.

Just before leaving, she turned back.

“Oh, and Julian?”

She smiled.

“Your housekeeper is becoming a problem.”

The door closed.

I remained still for another minute.

Then I opened my eyes.

Elena stood in the adjoining bathroom, where she’d been hiding since Chloe entered.

Her face was pale.

“She knows about me,” she whispered.

“She suspects you.”

“That’s worse.”

“Yes.”

I reached for the glass of water on my bedside table, but my injured arm trembled so badly that Elena had to help me hold it.

The humiliation burned almost as much as the pain.

For forty-six years, I’d believed strength meant never needing anyone.

Now I couldn’t drink a glass of water without assistance.

And the woman who had betrayed me knew exactly how weak I was.

“Mr. Vance,” Elena said gently, “you need to let the doctors treat you properly. We can investigate without forcing you to move.”

“I can’t wait until I’m healthy.”

“Then you might not live long enough to see Friday.”

I looked at her.

She didn’t flinch.

“You hired me to clean your penthouse,” she continued. “Not to help you solve a murder. But if I’m going to risk my life, I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself before we find the truth.”

For the first time, I understood why she had survived years of working for people who barely noticed her.

She possessed something money couldn’t buy.

The courage to tell a powerful man when he was being an idiot.

I leaned back against the pillows.

“Fine. You win.”

She gave me a disbelieving look.

“Did you just agree with me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

For the first time since the crash, she smiled.

It lasted only a second.

Then she remembered why we were there.

“I found the night nurse.”

I straightened as much as my injuries allowed.

“Who is she?”

“Patricia Collins. She’s worked at this hospital for eleven years. But yesterday, she told another nurse she wanted to change her shift.”

“Why?”

“She said someone had offered her enough money to retire.”

I felt the familiar chill crawl up my spine.

“Did you find out who?”

Elena hesitated.

“She didn’t say. But I saw her leaving the administrative office this morning. She was carrying a large envelope.”

“Where is she now?”

“On her way here.”

I looked at the clock.

7:05 a.m.

“Then we have a problem.”

Elena frowned.

“What problem?”

“If Patricia is part of this, she knows whether I’m still unconscious. If she discovers I’ve awakened, the entire plan collapses.”

“Should I call security?”

“No.”

I took a slow breath.

“Get the laptop. Then find me a way to contact Detective Sarah Mitchell.”

Elena stared at me.

“The police?”

“Sarah investigated a financial fraud case for me two years ago. She doesn’t work for my company, and she doesn’t owe Anthony anything.”

“Can she be trusted?”

“I believe so.”

“You believed Chloe, too.”

The words landed harder than I expected.

I looked away.

“You’re right.”

For several seconds, the room was silent.

Then I said, “Don’t trust anyone simply because I tell you to. Verify everything.”

Elena nodded.

She was halfway to the door when someone knocked.

Three sharp taps.

“Mr. Vance’s morning medication,” a woman’s voice announced.

Elena froze.

I recognized the name on the identification badge visible through the narrow window.

Patricia Collins.

The nurse entered carrying a tray.

She was in her fifties, with neatly pinned hair and a face that showed years of exhaustion. She glanced at the monitor, checked my chart, and approached the bed.

“Still no response,” she muttered.

She placed the tray down.

Then she looked directly at Elena.

“You’re the housekeeper.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here so early?”

“I wanted to make sure his room was clean.”

Patricia smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

“How devoted.”

She turned toward me.

“Such a tragedy. A man with everything, and now he might never wake up.”

She reached for the medication tray.

Something about the movement bothered me.

The cup contained two pills.

One was white.

The other was a small blue tablet I hadn’t seen during my previous medication rounds.

I forced myself not to react.

Patricia lifted the cup.

“Let’s see if we can make you comfortable, Mr. Vance.”

Elena moved quickly.

“Excuse me, nurse. His doctor said no new medication without his approval.”

Patricia’s smile vanished.

“I’m following the orders in his chart.”

“Then you won’t mind showing me.”

For a moment, the two women stared at each other.

Then Patricia set the cup down.

“Of course.”

She turned toward the chart at the foot of the bed.

That was when Elena noticed the envelope tucked beneath the tray.

A thick envelope.

The same kind she’d seen Patricia carrying outside the administrative office.

Patricia followed her gaze.

Her expression changed.

“You should leave,” she said sharply.

Elena didn’t move.

“I think I’ll stay.”

The nurse reached for the envelope.

I moved.

It was only a slight movement, but after five days of pretending to be unconscious, it was enough.

My fingers closed around Patricia’s wrist.

Her entire body went rigid.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

“Good morning, Patricia.”

The tray crashed to the floor.

The blue tablet bounced across the tiles.

Patricia stared at me as though she’d seen a ghost.

“You’re—”

“Awake?”

I tightened my grip despite the pain.

“Yes.”

She tried to pull away.

“Let go of me!”

Elena rushed to the door and locked it.

Patricia looked from her to me.

Then she began to cry.

“I didn’t know they were going to kill you.”

I felt no sympathy.

“Who paid you?”

“I only changed your medication schedule. I swear, I never touched your brakes!”

The room went silent.

I stared at her.

“I never mentioned my brakes.”

Patricia’s face collapsed.

She realized her mistake too late.

Elena slowly stepped away from the door.

“Who told you about the crash?” she asked.

Patricia shook her head violently.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You just admitted someone paid you to tamper with his treatment,” I said. “If you want any chance of surviving this, you will tell me everything.”

She looked toward the window.

Then she whispered a name.

“Marcus Reed.”

My consigliere.

The man who had wept beside my hospital bed.

The man who had helped Anthony plan the transfers.

The man who might have been trying to finish the job from the moment I arrived at the hospital.

But Patricia wasn’t finished.

She reached into her pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Mr. Vance, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Mr. Reed told me that if you woke up before Friday, I was to call a number written on this paper.”

I took it from her.

A single phone number.

Beneath it were four words.

ELIMINATE THE WITNESS FIRST.

I looked at Elena.

Her face had gone white.

The witness.

Not me.

Her.

Because Elena had seen the envelope. She had found the flash drive. And she was the only person who knew I had awakened before Friday.

Outside the room, the elevator chimed.

Footsteps approached.

Patricia began sobbing again.

“Please. You have to believe me. They said nobody would get hurt if I cooperated.”

I folded the paper and slipped it beneath my pillow.

Then I looked at Elena.

“Call Sarah Mitchell. Tell her we need immediate protection.”

Elena reached for her phone.

But before she could dial, the hospital intercom crackled.

A calm female voice announced:

“Security alert. All personnel are requested to report to the east wing.”

Patricia stopped crying.

Her eyes widened.

“No,” she whispered. “They found out.”

A second later, someone tried the locked door.

Once.

Twice.

Then a man’s voice came from the other side.

“Mr. Vance? It’s Marcus. I heard there was an incident.”

I stared at Elena.

She stared back.

Neither of us moved.

Marcus knocked again.

“Julian, old friend. If you can hear me, I need you to know something.”

His voice dropped.

“I know you’re awake.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

The door handle began to turn.

Then Marcus spoke the words that made me understand the true scale of the conspiracy.

“Anthony wasn’t the one who ordered your death.”

A pause.

“He was only following orders.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“There’s someone else behind this,” Marcus continued. “Someone you trusted long before Chloe entered your life.”

I looked at the flash drive beneath my pillow.

Then at Elena.

The door shook under a sudden blow.

And Marcus whispered through the wood:

“Your father wasn’t the only Vance who knew about the money, Julian.”

To be continued in Part 4.