Chapter 3 - The Secret Patient in Room 417
Three days later, Mave returned to St. Bridget's under a temporary contract.
She refused Adrian's offer to hire her.
Instead, he had funded a medical advocacy program that allowed her to continue working independently.
He claimed it had nothing to do with her.
She didn't believe him.
Neither did anyone else.
By then, people had begun talking.
Not about the restaurant anymore.
About Adrian Vale.
The most dangerous man in the city showing up at a public hospital with flowers for a nurse.
He never brought roses.
Mave noticed that.
He brought coffee.
For everyone.
He remembered who took sugar.
Who drank tea.
Who worked nights.
It was strangely domestic for a man whose name frightened half the city.
One night, Mave was making rounds when she noticed a patient in Room 417.
Male.
Forty-seven.
No identification.
No insurance.
Admitted under a false name.
His chart was sealed.
That bothered her.
She opened it.
Then stopped.
There was a tattoo behind his left ear.
Three interlocking circles.
Mave had seen it before.
On one of Adrian's men.
She stepped backward.
The patient opened his eyes.
"You shouldn't be here."
Mave froze.
"I'm your nurse."
"Not this nurse."
"What does that mean?"
The man gripped her wrist.
"Tell Vale they found the ledger."
"What ledger?"
His eyes widened.
Then he released her.
"Too late."
The heart monitor screamed.
Mave hit the emergency button.
Doctors rushed in.
Within seconds, the patient was stable.
But by the time she returned to his bedside, he was gone.
Not discharged.
Gone.
The room had no sign he had ever existed.
Except for one thing.
A black envelope on the pillow.
Mave opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Adrian standing beside his father.
A second photograph.
A nurse she didn't know.
A third.
A warehouse.
On the back:
Ask Adrian why Room 417 was closed for twenty years.
Mave stared at the message.
She called him.
He answered immediately.
"What's wrong?"
"Room 417."
Silence.
"Where are you?"
"St. Bridget's."
"Don't move."
"Adrian—"
"Don't move."
He arrived in twelve minutes.
He looked at the envelope.
His expression hardened.
"Who gave you this?"
"A patient."
"What patient?"
"Forty-seven. False name."
Adrian cursed quietly.
"What?"
"He wasn't a patient."
"Then who was he?"
"Someone I thought was dead."
Mave folded her arms.
"Start talking."
He looked at her.
"Room 417 belonged to my father."
"At this hospital?"
"Before St. Bridget's became St. Bridget's."
"Why was it closed?"
"Because he died there."
Mave felt cold.
"Wrong medication?"
"Yes."
"The nurse?"
"She was found unconscious in the room."
"Did she survive?"
"No."
Mave's stomach twisted.
"Who was she?"
"My mother's sister."
She looked at him.
"I thought you said you were sixteen."
"I was."
"Then why does this connect to my report?"
"Because the same supplier was involved."
Vance Medical.
Mave sat down.
"Preston's family."
Adrian nodded.
"My father had proof."
"Where?"
"Room 417."
"But it's gone."
"Maybe."
They entered the hospital records archive that night.
The room number appeared in old maintenance logs.
But one document was missing.
The original incident report.
Mave found a handwritten notation in a margin.
Transferred to Saint Mercy Annex.
She recognized the name.
"Saint Mercy closed years ago."
"Yes."
"Then where are the records?"
Adrian looked at her.
"You tell me."
Mave smiled faintly.
"I know someone."
An elderly hospital archivist named Mrs. Bell had worked at Saint Mercy for forty years.
She lived in a small apartment above a bakery.
When Mave showed her the photograph, the old woman went pale.
"I hoped nobody would ask."
"Please."
Mrs. Bell sat down.
"Your father was a good man."
Adrian stared.
"You knew him?"
"Everyone did."
"What happened?"
"He discovered that medication shipments were being diverted."
Mave asked, "By whom?"
Mrs. Bell shook her head.
"I never learned."
"You're lying."
The old woman looked at her.
"You have your father's stubbornness."
"Who?"
She opened a drawer.
Inside was an old cassette tape.
"Your father left this."
Adrian took it.
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
"Because he told me not to."
"Until when?"
"Until someone came looking for Room 417."
Mave and Adrian looked at each other.
They found a player.
The recording began.
Adrian's father's voice.
If you're hearing this, I was right to be afraid.
A second voice followed.
You should have stayed out of it.
Mave recognized the second voice.
Preston's father.
Her blood ran cold.
The recording continued.
The hospital is being used to move shipments.
People are being paid.
Doctors.
Administrators.
Security.
Then another voice.
A woman.
Mave froze.
She knew that voice too.
Her nursing supervisor.
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Adrian looked at her.
"Your supervisor."
Mave nodded.
"She was involved."
"Yes."
"Then my suspension—"
"Was planned."
Mave closed her eyes.
Everything finally connected.
Her job.
The medication discrepancy.
Preston.
The restaurant.
The attack.
Someone had been moving against her for months.
She just hadn't realized the game was bigger than her.
Adrian took her hand.
"We end this."
She looked at him.
"Together?"
"Together."
Then Mrs. Bell spoke from behind them.
"There is one more thing."
They turned.
She held up a photograph.
A young Preston Vance stood beside an older man.
And beside them stood Adrian's uncle.
Mave recognized the older man immediately.
"Who is that?"
May you like
Mrs. Bell whispered:
"The man who raised Adrian."
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