Chapter 5 - THE HOSPITAL THAT DIDN'T EXISTThe explosion threw Lydia against the bed.
Glass shattered somewhere beyond the hallway. An alarm began screaming overhead, followed by the unmistakable smell of smoke.
Cassian caught her before she fell.
“Stay close to me.”
“What happened?”
“Someone breached the building.”
“Your own security chief?”
Cassian didn't answer.
He was already dialing the command center.
No response.
He tried the emergency line.
Nothing.
Gabriel had not simply betrayed him.
He had taken control of the building's security system.
Cassian pulled a compact handgun from the bedside drawer and checked the hallway.
“Rosa!”
The housekeeper appeared through the smoke.
“I'm here.”
“Take Lydia to the service stairs.”
Lydia grabbed his sleeve.
“Where are you going?”
“To make sure you get out.”
“That's not an answer.”
Cassian looked at her.
For the first time in years, he found himself struggling to give an order.
“Rosa knows the emergency route. Trust her.”
Lydia's expression hardened.
“I trusted you when you told me my mother was dead.”
The accusation landed.
Cassian lowered his voice.
“I never knew she was alive.”
“Then stop making decisions for me based on what you think I can handle.”
Another explosion shook the apartment.
Cassian looked toward the hallway.
“Fine. We stay together.”
They moved through a service corridor behind the kitchen.
Rosa led, Lydia followed with her cane folded in one hand, and Cassian brought up the rear.
The emergency lights had failed.
For Lydia, the darkness changed nothing.
For everyone else, it was a nightmare.
“There's a turn coming,” Rosa whispered.
“Left,” Lydia answered.
Rosa stopped.
“How did you know?”
“The ventilation changes direction. I can hear the airflow.”
Cassian glanced at her.
Lydia had memorized more of the apartment in twenty minutes than most people would notice in an entire evening.
At the stairwell, footsteps sounded above them.
Cassian raised his weapon.
“Back.”
Two armed men appeared.
One shouted, “Moretti!”
Cassian fired.
The first attacker collapsed.
The second retreated behind the stairwell door.
Cassian pushed Lydia and Rosa toward the lower landing.
“Move!”
They descended three floors before reaching a maintenance exit.
Outside, a black SUV waited in the underground loading bay.
Its driver stepped out.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Cassian aimed his pistol.
“Identify yourself.”
“Samuel Price. Your attorney sent me.”
Cassian narrowed his eyes.
“My attorney is in Geneva.”
“Yes, sir. He called twelve minutes ago.”
“What's his daughter's name?”
“Isabelle.”
Cassian lowered the gun slightly.
The answer was correct.
But the night had taught him that correct answers were not always trustworthy.
He approached the SUV cautiously, checked the interior, and opened the rear door.
Lydia climbed in.
Rosa followed.
Cassian took the front passenger seat.
“Drive.”
The vehicle accelerated out of the garage just as another explosion thundered behind them.
Lydia turned toward the sound.
“Was anyone still inside?”
Cassian's silence told her enough.
Forty minutes later, they arrived at a modest brownstone in Queens.
It belonged to Dr. Eleanor Shaw, a retired neurologist who had once worked with Adrian Mercer.
Cassian had contacted her during the drive.
She answered the door wearing a cardigan and an expression of undisguised alarm.
“Cassian Moretti.”
“Eleanor.”
“You have a remarkable talent for bringing trouble to my doorstep.”
“I need your help.”
Her gaze moved to Lydia.
The doctor's expression softened.
“Lydia Hayes?”
Lydia froze.
“You know me?”
“I know your medical history.”
Cassian stepped inside.
“Tell her everything.”
Eleanor looked at him sharply.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
They gathered around a kitchen table.
Rosa prepared coffee while Samuel remained outside with the vehicle.
Eleanor placed a thick folder on the table.
“Lydia, your injuries were severe. The accident caused extensive damage to your optic nerves and surrounding tissue. At the time, Dr. Mercer believed there might be an experimental treatment capable of restoring some visual function.”
Lydia leaned forward.
“Why wasn't I offered it?”
“Because the hospital withdrew authorization.”
“Who withdrew it?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“Your legal guardian.”
Lydia frowned.
“I didn't have a legal guardian. My parents were dead.”
“Someone was appointed through the court while you were hospitalized.”
“Who?”
Eleanor opened the folder.
“Evelyn Hayes.”
The room went silent.
Lydia's fingers curled against the table.
“My mother was alive.”
“Yes.”
“And she signed papers refusing treatment?”
Eleanor's voice was gentle.
“That's what the records show.”
Lydia pressed both hands against her face.
For years she had imagined what it would feel like to see again.
Her father's smile.
Her mother's eyes.
The colors of autumn.
Now she was learning that someone had made a decision about her future without ever asking her.
“Was the treatment guaranteed?” she asked.
“No. And I need you to understand that. The proposed procedure was experimental, dangerous, and might not have helped at all.”
“But I should have been told.”
“Yes,” Eleanor said. “You should have.”
Cassian watched Lydia struggle to contain her grief.
He wanted to comfort her.
He knew he had no right.
“Where's Mercer?” he asked.
Eleanor closed the folder.
“That's complicated.”
“Try me.”
“Adrian disappeared after he discovered that someone had falsified portions of Lydia's neurological assessments.”
Lydia looked up.
“Falsified?”
“Not necessarily the diagnosis. Your injuries were real. But some of the records were altered to make your condition appear more medically settled than it was.”
“Who altered them?”
Eleanor's face tightened.
“That's what Adrian was investigating.”
Cassian leaned forward.
“St. Catherine's. The private wing. What do you know?”
Eleanor went pale.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Mateo's files.”
She stood abruptly.
“You need to leave.”
“Eleanor—”
“No. You don't understand.”
Her hands were shaking.
“St. Catherine's wasn't just a hospital. It was a private medical facility funded through shell corporations. Patients were kept there under false names. Some were witnesses. Some were people powerful families wanted to disappear.”
“Evelyn was there?” Lydia asked.
Eleanor nodded reluctantly.
“For a time.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don't know.”
Cassian studied the doctor.
“You're hiding something.”
Eleanor looked toward the window.
“I made a promise.”
“To whom?”
Before she could answer, the kitchen lights went out.
Rosa gasped.
From outside came the sound of tires rolling slowly over wet pavement.
Then Samuel's voice shouted, “Get away from the windows!”
Gunfire shattered the front door.
Cassian pushed Lydia beneath the kitchen table.
Eleanor screamed.
A bullet struck the refrigerator.
Cassian fired twice toward the entrance.
Then a man's voice called from outside.
“Lydia Hayes! Your mother wants to see you!”
Lydia rose despite Cassian's attempt to stop her.
“Then tell her to come herself!”
The shooting stopped.
For a moment, there was only the sound of rain.
Then a woman spoke from the darkness beyond the broken doorway.
“Lydia?”
Her voice trembled.
“Little star?”
Lydia's knees nearly buckled.
“Mom?”
Cassian moved toward the entrance with his gun raised.
A woman stepped into the dim light.
She was older, thinner, and visibly exhausted.
But her face matched the photograph.
Evelyn Hayes.
Lydia reached out blindly.
“Mom?”
Evelyn began to cry.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She took one step forward.
Then Cassian saw the small black device strapped beneath her coat.
A red light blinked against the fabric.
“Lydia, get back!”
Evelyn stopped.
Her expression crumpled.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Cassian stared at the device.
May you like
It was an explosive vest.
And the timer had already begun counting down.
Related Stories
