Chapter 2 - THE BRIDE WAS PART OF THE PLAN
Willa didn’t sleep.
At sunrise, she was still sitting beside Everett’s bed.
Her notebook lay open across her knees.
She had written the same question three times.
WHY ME?
Sterling had access to thousands of desperate women.
Why choose someone with medical training?
Why choose a former ICU nurse?
Why choose a woman whose credibility had already been destroyed by the same doctor treating Everett?
The answer made her sick.
Because if Everett died while she was beside him, everyone would already know whom to blame.
The disgraced nurse.
The desperate wife.
The homeless woman who suddenly stood to inherit from a millionaire.
Willa looked at Everett.
“Oh, God.”
This wasn’t only a marriage.
It was a murder weapon.
And she was supposed to become the handle.
At 8:15 a.m., Mr. Crowley entered carrying a garment bag.
“Mr. Sterling expects you downstairs at ten.”
“For what?”
“A family meeting.”
He placed the garment bag on the sofa.
“Wear this.”
Willa unzipped it.
Inside was a black designer dress.
The price tag had been removed.
“I have clothes.”
Crowley glanced toward her canvas bag.
“No offense, Mrs. Kane, but you have fabric.”
He left.
Willa almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Everett’s finger moved.
She rushed to him.
“You’re back.”
One movement.
Relief washed through her.
“That dose knocked you out for almost seven hours.”
One.
“Everett, listen carefully.”
She leaned closer.
“I overheard Sterling and Whitfield.”
His heart rate increased.
“They know who I am.”
The monitor jumped again.
“I think that’s why they chose me.”
Everett’s finger moved once.
“You think so too?”
One.
Willa swallowed.
“Are they planning to kill you?”
Everett didn’t respond immediately.
Then his finger moved.
Once.
Willa closed her eyes.
There it was.
No more guessing.
No more pretending.
She was living inside a murder plot.
At ten o’clock, Willa entered the library.
Sterling sat at the head of a long walnut table.
Three lawyers were present.
Whitfield stood near the windows.
And beside him sat a woman Willa had never seen.
She was perhaps sixty.
Elegant.
Perfectly dressed.
Her gray-blond hair was pinned neatly behind her head.
She looked at Willa with open disgust.
Sterling stood.
“Willa, this is Everett’s aunt, Vivian Kane.”
Vivian didn’t offer her hand.
“So this is her.”
Willa took a seat.
“This is me.”
Vivian looked at Sterling.
“She sounds common.”
Willa smiled.
“And you sound exactly like I expected.”
Sterling coughed to hide a laugh.
Vivian’s face tightened.
One lawyer pushed a folder toward Willa.
“Mrs. Kane, we need several routine signatures.”
Willa opened it.
The first pages dealt with household access.
The next concerned privacy agreements.
Then she reached page eleven.
She stopped.
MEDICAL DECISION AUTHORIZATION.
Willa read slowly.
The document granted her authority to approve changes in Everett’s treatment.
Including withdrawal of life-sustaining intervention.
Her blood ran cold.
She looked up.
“What is this?”
Sterling folded his hands.
“Preparation.”
“For what?”
“The inevitable.”
“He’s stable.”
Whitfield spoke.
“His neurological prognosis remains extremely poor.”
Willa turned toward him.
“Based on what tests?”
Whitfield paused.
“Excuse me?”
“EEG?”
Silence.
“Functional MRI?”
Whitfield’s jaw tightened.
“Brainstem response testing?”
Vivian looked annoyed.
“She’s not a nurse anymore.”
Willa didn’t look away from Whitfield.
“No.”
“I’m not.”
“But those are still simple questions.”
Sterling leaned back.
“Sign the document.”
Willa closed the folder.
“No.”
Nobody spoke.
Sterling’s smile disappeared.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said no.”
Vivian laughed once.
“You were paid.”
“My mother’s bills were paid.”
“That was payment.”
Willa pushed the folder away.
“You paid me to marry him.”
“You didn’t pay me to kill him.”
Whitfield stood.
“No one is asking you to kill anyone.”
“Then why do you need my signature authorizing withdrawal of treatment?”
“Because you are legally his spouse.”
“Exactly.”
Willa looked around the table.
“And his spouse says no.”
Sterling stared at her for several seconds.
Then he smiled again.
That smile frightened her more than anger would have.
“Meeting adjourned.”
The lawyers gathered their papers.
Vivian stood.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Willa met her gaze.
“Get in line.”
Vivian left.
Whitfield followed.
Sterling remained seated.
Willa stood.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
She slowly sat.
Sterling walked around the table.
He placed both hands on the chair beside her.
“You believe this marriage gives you power.”
“I believe it gives me legal rights.”
“For now.”
Willa’s stomach tightened.
Sterling continued.
“Your mother is comfortable at Rosehaven because I arranged it.”
“Leave her out of this.”
“I’m simply reminding you that arrangements can change.”
Willa stood so quickly the chair struck the floor.
“If you touch my mother—”
Sterling grabbed her wrist.
Hard.
“Then what?”
Pain shot up her arm.
“What exactly will you do?”
Willa stared at his hand.
Then at his face.
“Take your hand off me.”
Sterling squeezed harder.
“You have no license.”
“No money.”
“No family capable of protecting you.”
“No credibility.”
“And you are living in a house filled with men who work for me.”
Willa’s voice became quiet.
“They worked for Everett first.”
Sterling’s eyes changed.
For the first time, she saw fear.
Tiny.
Instantaneous.
But real.
He released her.
Willa rubbed her wrist.
Sterling stepped back.
“You have until tomorrow morning.”
“For what?”
“To sign.”
“And if I don’t?”
Sterling smiled.
“Then Rosehaven may discover they no longer have room for your mother.”
Willa slapped him.
The sound cracked through the library.
Sterling’s head turned.
For one second, neither moved.
Then he slowly faced her again.
A red mark spread across his cheek.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Willa’s heart hammered.
“Probably not.”
Sterling smiled.
“Now I know what kind of woman you are.”
Willa backed toward the door.
“No.”
“You know what kind of woman I used to be.”
She opened it.
“You’re about to find out what kind I became.”
That afternoon, Willa called Rosehaven.
Nobody answered Ruth’s room.
She called the front desk.
“Ruth Hayes, please.”
The receptionist hesitated.
“Mrs. Kane?”
“Yes.”
“There’s been a change.”
Willa stood.
“What change?”
“Your mother was transferred this morning.”
The room tilted.
“Transferred where?”
“I’m sorry.”
“To where?”
“I don’t have that information.”
Willa gripped the phone.
“Who authorized it?”
A pause.
Then the receptionist whispered.
May you like
“Sterling Kane.”
The line went dead.
