Chapter 3 - The Doctor Who Destroyed Her Future
Maeve knew the patient's name before the emergency physician said it.
Arthur Bell.
Sixty-eight years old.
Retired electrician.
Father of three.
The man whose death had ended her nursing career.
She gripped the back of a chair.
“What did you say?”
The physician, Dr. Nathaniel Brooks, looked concerned.
“Are you all right?”
“Arthur Bell,” Maeve whispered. “Was that the patient?”
Brooks stopped.
“How do you know that name?”
Maeve's voice trembled.
“I was the student nurse blamed for his medication error.”
Silence filled the room.
Emmett watched her.
For the first time since meeting him, Maeve looked completely defenseless.
She had confronted Warren Castellano without flinching.
She had challenged Corbin Pike.
She had called an ambulance despite losing her job.
But the mention of Arthur Bell had reduced her to the frightened young woman who had once sat alone before a disciplinary committee.
Brooks pulled another chair toward her.
“Sit down.”
“I don't need—”
“Please.”
She sat.
He explained that the hospital had conducted a later review of several medication incidents involving Ashford. The physician's hospital privileges had been suspended pending investigation, but the hospital's internal proceedings had not automatically ended his ability to practice elsewhere.
Maeve stared at him.
“Then why wasn't my case reopened?”
“I don't know.”
“I lost everything.”
“I understand.”
“No,” she said quietly. “You don't.”
Emmett shifted against his pillows.
“Doctor.”
Brooks turned.
“I want every medication that man prescribed examined.”
“We're already reviewing them.”
“And I want the police notified if there's evidence of deliberate poisoning.”
Brooks nodded.
“That's appropriate. But first, we need to stabilize you.”
The next six hours passed in a blur.
Emmett received hospital treatment for the dangerous drug toxicity, including specialist-directed therapy. His cardiac rhythm gradually stabilized.
By sunrise, his condition remained serious but no longer appeared immediately terminal.
Maeve sat outside his room holding a paper cup of coffee she had forgotten to drink.
Her phone rang.
Bridget Halloran.
Maeve answered.
“Mrs. Halloran?”
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
A pause.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Maeve heard something that sounded like a sob.
Then Bridget whispered, “Thank God.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
“Because I couldn't save his mother.”
The line went dead.
Maeve stared at the screen.
Emmett's mother had died eleven years earlier.
According to the household staff, she'd suffered a stroke.
What did Bridget mean?
Before Maeve could call back, two men approached the waiting area.
One wore a charcoal suit and carried a leather folder.
The other was younger, broad-shouldered, with a scar above his eyebrow.
“Maeve Sullivan?”
She stood cautiously.
“Yes?”
The older man extended his hand.
“Daniel Mercer. Mr. Castellano's attorney.”
The younger man remained silent.
Mercer glanced at the hospital room.
“Emmett asked us to come.”
Maeve didn't move.
“Why?”
“Because he wants you protected.”
She almost laughed.
“From whom?”
Mercer opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Maeve outside her apartment building in Everett.
The picture had been taken that morning.
Her little brother stood beside her, wearing his red school backpack.
Maeve's stomach tightened.
“Where did you get that?”
Mercer's expression was grim.
“It was delivered to my office with a message.”
He turned the photograph over.
Five words were written on the back.
KEEP THE MAID OUT OF IT.
Maeve couldn't breathe.
“Danny.”
She grabbed her phone and called the neighbor who had agreed to take him to school.
No answer.
She called again.
Voicemail.
Mercer nodded toward the younger man.
“This is Gabriel Rourke. He's handled Emmett's personal security for years.”
Gabriel spoke for the first time.
“I'll take you home.”
Maeve looked toward Emmett's room.
“I need to tell him.”
“He already knows.”
She hurried inside.
Emmett was awake.
The cardiac monitor beeped steadily beside him.
“You should go,” he said.
“Someone photographed my brother.”
“I know.”
“Why would they threaten a child?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because they know what I'll do if they threaten me.”
Maeve approached the bed.
“Then what do they think you'll do if they threaten him?”
Emmett looked at her.
“Exactly what they want.”
She understood.
They wanted him frightened.
Distracted.
Willing to surrender control in exchange for safety.
“Mr. Castellano—”
“Emmett.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“My name is Emmett.”
For a moment, something almost gentle passed between them.
Then he reached for the bedside telephone.
“Gabriel will take you home. Mercer will arrange protection for your family.”
“I can't afford—”
“You aren't paying.”
“I don't want to owe you anything.”
“You don't.”
He held her gaze.
“You gave me something nobody in that house was willing to give.”
“What?”
“A chance to live.”
Maeve looked away.
She wasn't accustomed to gratitude.
Especially not from powerful men.
An hour later, Gabriel drove her through Boston in a black SUV.
The streets were slick from overnight rain.
Maeve sat in the passenger seat, repeatedly calling her neighbor.
Still nothing.
When they reached Everett, she saw police vehicles outside her apartment building.
Her heart stopped.
“Danny!”
She jumped from the SUV before Gabriel had fully parked.
An officer caught her near the entrance.
“Ma'am, slow down.”
“My brother lives here!”
“What's his name?”
“Daniel Sullivan. Seven years old.”
The officer's expression changed.
“Are you his sister?”
“Yes!”
He exchanged a glance with his partner.
Then stepped aside.
Inside the apartment, furniture had been overturned.
Cabinet doors hung open.
Her mother's framed photographs lay shattered across the floor.
Maeve saw Danny's red backpack beside the couch.
Empty.
She couldn't make herself move.
Gabriel entered behind her.
“Where is he?”
The officer hesitated.
“Your brother was taken from the apartment approximately forty minutes ago.”
Maeve staggered backward.
“No.”
“We're investigating.”
“Who took him?”
The officer looked at the torn curtains.
“A woman came to the building claiming she was authorized to collect him.”
Maeve shook her head.
“No woman has permission.”
The officer held out a printed photograph recovered from the neighbor's doorbell camera.
Maeve stared.
The woman was elegantly dressed, with dark hair and a cream-colored coat.
She looked familiar.
Then Maeve remembered seeing her portrait inside the Castellano mansion.
Hanging beside Warren's office.
The officer asked, “Do you recognize her?”
Maeve's voice barely worked.
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Maeve looked at Gabriel.
“Emmett Castellano's sister.”
May you like
And Gabriel whispered a name that made everything worse.
“Isabella.”
