Chapter 1 - THE FINGER THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE MOVED
Everett Kane’s finger moved again.
Willa Hayes stared at it.
For three nights, she had been waiting for proof that she wasn’t imagining things.
Now she had it.
“Everett?”
Her voice barely carried across the dark bedroom.
The heart monitor continued its steady rhythm.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Willa stepped closer to the bed.
“If you can hear me, don’t try to open your eyes.”
Nothing happened.
She swallowed.
“I think someone is keeping you unconscious.”
Everett’s index finger twitched.
Once.
Willa’s stomach dropped.
She grabbed the edge of the bed.
“Okay.”
Her voice trembled despite her effort to control it.
“Okay, Everett.”
She looked toward the bedroom door.
Locked.
Then toward the security camera mounted above the fireplace.
That was the problem.
She had noticed it on her first morning.
Sterling claimed the cameras existed for Everett’s protection.
Willa no longer believed anything Sterling said.
She turned her back to the camera and leaned over Everett as though adjusting his blanket.
“Don’t move again.”
Everett obeyed.
That frightened her even more.
Random muscle spasms didn’t follow instructions.
A conscious man did.
Willa pulled the blanket higher over his chest.
“We need a system.”
She touched his right hand.
“One movement for yes.”
She touched it again.
“Two for no.”
Several seconds passed.
His finger moved once.
Willa closed her eyes.
The implications hit her all at once.
Eight months.
Everett had been lying here for eight months.
Eight months of people discussing him.
Touching him.
Drugging him.
Planning around him.
All while he listened.
Willa looked at his face.
“Have you been able to hear people?”
One movement.
Yes.
Her chest tightened.
“Since the accident?”
One.
She had to look away.
“My God.”
Everett Kane had been buried alive inside his own body.
And somebody knew it.
Willa moved closer.
“Does Sterling know you’re conscious?”
No movement came.
Then two.
No.
“Does Dr. Whitfield?”
Two.
No.
Willa almost laughed from relief.
That meant they still had an advantage.
A tiny one.
But tiny advantages kept people alive.
“Do you know what they’re giving you?”
Two movements.
No.
“Do you know why Sterling is doing this?”
One.
Willa stared at him.
“You know?”
One.
She lowered her voice.
“Money?”
Two.
Her brow furrowed.
“Control of the businesses?”
One.
“But there’s more?”
One.
Willa’s pulse quickened.
Before she could ask another question, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
She froze.
Everett’s hand immediately went still.
The door handle turned.
Willa moved fast.
She dropped into the armchair and pulled the blanket around herself.
The door opened.
Sterling Kane entered.
He wasn’t alone.
Dr. Whitfield followed him.
Willa pretended to wake.
“What’s going on?”
Sterling smiled.
“Checking on my cousin.”
“At one in the morning?”
Sterling looked at his watch.
“Families don’t keep office hours.”
Whitfield walked directly toward the IV.
Willa stood.
“I thought you came at twelve.”
Whitfield glanced at her.
“Excuse me?”
“You were here earlier.”
A tiny silence followed.
Willa immediately regretted saying it.
Sterling turned toward Whitfield.
“You were?”
Whitfield didn’t look concerned.
“I checked the patient.”
“Twice?”
“His condition requires monitoring.”
Sterling nodded.
But Willa saw something pass between them.
Something unspoken.
Whitfield opened his leather case.
Willa’s heartbeat accelerated.
Another vial.
He was going to inject Everett again.
Whitfield filled a syringe.
Willa stepped closer.
“What is that?”
“We’ve discussed this.”
“I’m his wife.”
Sterling laughed softly.
“Technically.”
Willa turned toward him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means nobody here is pretending this is a love story.”
His smile remained.
“You fulfilled a legal purpose.”
Willa felt heat rise through her face.
“What purpose?”
Sterling’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
“Go back to sleep, Willa.”
Whitfield reached for Everett’s IV port.
Willa stepped between them.
“No.”
The room became silent.
Whitfield stared at her.
Sterling slowly removed one hand from his pocket.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
Willa forced herself not to look at Everett.
“I want to know what you’re giving my husband.”
Whitfield sighed.
“A sedative.”
“Which one?”
“That is not your concern.”
“Dosage?”
His eyes hardened.
“Move.”
“No.”
Sterling walked toward her.
He stopped inches away.
Willa could smell bourbon on his breath.
“You seem to have misunderstood your position.”
“I understand it perfectly.”
“Do you?”
“You bought a desperate woman because you needed someone to marry your cousin.”
Sterling smiled.
“And you accepted.”
“For my mother.”
“Motives don’t change signatures.”
He leaned closer.
“You were sleeping in a car four days ago.”
Willa held his gaze.
“And somehow I still have better manners than you.”
Whitfield nearly smiled.
Sterling didn’t.
“Move away from the bed.”
Willa hesitated.
Then Everett’s monitor accelerated.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Whitfield looked at the screen.
Willa looked at Everett.
His face remained perfectly still.
But she understood.
He was angry.
Sterling noticed the monitor too.
“What happened?”
“Nothing unusual,” Whitfield said.
He reached for Everett’s wrist.
Willa moved aside.
She couldn’t risk exposing him.
Not yet.
Whitfield injected the medication.
Willa watched every drop disappear into the IV line.
Everett’s heart rate slowly fell.
His finger didn’t move again.
Sterling watched Willa.
“Your job is simple.”
He straightened his jacket.
“Smile when necessary.”
“Sit beside Everett when guests come.”
“Sign what the lawyers put in front of you.”
“And enjoy the fact that your mother is being taken care of.”
Willa’s eyes narrowed.
“What papers?”
Sterling’s smile returned.
“You’ll find out tomorrow.”
He left.
Whitfield packed his case.
Before following, he stopped beside Willa.
For the first time, he studied her carefully.
“You look familiar.”
Every muscle in Willa’s body tightened.
“I get that a lot.”
Whitfield continued staring.
Then he walked out.
The door closed.
Willa waited.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Two.
Then she hurried toward Everett.
“Everett?”
Nothing.
“Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Her stomach twisted.
The dose had been stronger.
“Come on.”
She squeezed his hand.
“Don’t disappear on me.”
No response.
Willa checked his pupils.
Slow.
His pulse.
Weak but stable.
She looked at the IV.
Then at the door.
Sterling had said something important.
Sign what the lawyers put in front of you.
The marriage wasn’t the end of the plan.
It was the beginning.
Willa opened her notebook.
At the bottom of the page, she wrote:
STERLING NEEDS MY SIGNATURE.
WHY?
Then she heard a sound from the hallway.
A woman’s voice.
“You promised she wouldn’t interfere.”
Whitfield answered.
“I didn’t expect her to know medicine.”
Willa stopped writing.
She quietly approached the door.
Sterling spoke next.
“Then remind her why she lost her license.”
Willa’s blood went cold.
Whitfield knew exactly who she was.
He had recognized her from the beginning.
And suddenly Willa understood something far worse.
May you like
Sterling hadn’t chosen a homeless woman at random.
He had chosen her.
