The hospital was buzzing. Lyra’s interview had sent a shockwave through the building. Nurses huddled in corridors, whispering, their phones glowing with social media feeds. Dr. Finch was in Isolde’s room, his voice a low, urgent murmur as he tried to manage her fury.
The chaos was a gift. It was the distraction Caspian had been waiting for.
He pressed a hand to his stomach, a pained expression on his face. “I think… I’m going to be sick,” he groaned, lurching to his feet.
He stumbled out of the room and rushed toward the restroom, drawing concerned glances. But he didn’t stop at the men’s room. He kept going, his pace quickening to a calm, determined walk. He rounded the corner, slipped through the service exit he’d identified days ago, and merged seamlessly into the flow of staff ending their shifts.
He walked out into the cool night air, a free man.
A block away, he ducked into a darkened alley and pulled out the burner phone. He powered it on. The screen was blank, the contact list empty.
His first call had to be perfect. His family was too emotional. His lawyers were too slow, too cautious. He needed someone with medical knowledge. Someone with a direct line to the truth. Someone loyal to Lyra.
There was only one choice.
He dialed the main line for `St. Jude’s Medical Center`. When the operator answered, his voice was flat and direct. “Dr. Zara Ali, please.”
A moment later, her sharp, professional voice came on the line. “This is Dr. Ali.”
“It’s Caspian Hawthorne.”
The silence on the other end was heavy with shock and hostility. Before she could hang up, he spoke, his words clipped and urgent. “Isolde Finch is not sick. She is lying, and her doctor is complicit. You want to protect Lyra. I want to expose a fraud. We need to work together.”
Zara’s voice was pure ice. “You have some nerve calling me. You’re the source of all her pain.”
He didn’t argue. He didn’t defend himself. He deserved every ounce of her hatred. “You’re right,” he said, his own voice raw. “But that doesn’t change the facts. You don’t have to trust me. But we both have pieces of the same puzzle.”
He took a breath. “Meet me. I can prove what I know.”
Another tense silence stretched between them. He could hear her breathing, could feel the war raging in her mind. Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with suspicion but devoid of its earlier refusal.
“Where?”
About the Author
