Chapter 2 - THE BLOODSTAINED ENVELOPE|
The waiting area outside Trauma Operating Room 4 smelled faintly of industrial floor cleaner and bitter, burnt coffee.
Adrian paced the vinyl floor like a cornered predator. Every minute that ticked by on the wall clock felt like an iron nail driven directly into his skull. His custom Italian suit was ruined, his dark hair disheveled, his hands still raw from scrubbing.
An hour passed. Then two.
A state trooper walked down the hallway, his heavy leather boots clicking against the floor. He paused near the reception desk before turning toward Adrian.
"Adrian Vale?" the officer asked.
"Yes," Adrian said, rushing forward immediately. "Is there any news? What happened to her car? Who hit her?"
"I'm Officer Miller, Mr. Vale," the trooper replied calmly. "Your wife wasn't in her usual town car today. She was driving a silver sedan registered under a private holding company."
Adrian frowned, rubbing his temples. "A silver sedan? Elena doesn't drive herself downtown. She has a personal driver."
"According to traffic cameras at 4th and Elm," Officer Miller explained, "a heavy commercial flatbed truck ran a red light at forty miles an hour and broadsided her vehicle directly on the driver’s side. The driver abandoned the truck and fled on foot into the alleyways. We're treating it as a hit-and-run."
Adrian felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "A commercial flatbed?"
"Yes, sir. It was reported stolen three hours ago from a freight depot owned by Vale Meridian Logistics."
Adrian staggered back a step. His own company's truck.
Before he could process the horror of that revelation, the heavy double doors of the operating wing swung open. A charge nurse stepped out, her blue scrubs stained with dark fluid. She held a sealed, clear plastic bag in her hands.
"Mr. Vale?" she called out softly.
"How is she?" Adrian demanded, rushing to her side. "Tell me she's alive!"
"She’s in surgery, sir. Dr. Aris is repairing severe lacerations to her liver and trying to stabilize her crushed femur. She has suffered massive blood loss and severe head trauma. The next six hours are critical."
Adrian sank into a plastic chair, pressing his blood-stained palms against his face. "God... dear God..."
"The ER staff had to cut off her clothing," the nurse said gently, setting the clear bag on the seat beside him. "These are her personal effects. Her coat, her purse, her jewelry. You need to sign for them."
Adrian looked down at the plastic bag. Inside lay the torn, blood-soaked cream wool coat he had mocked that morning in their kitchen. Alongside it sat her cracked leather handbag and her platinum wedding ring, which had been cut off her swelling finger.
"Thank you," Adrian whispered.
The nurse gave a solemn nod and vanished back through the double doors.
Adrian reached into the plastic bag, his trembling fingers touching the blood-soaked wool of her coat. As he lifted the heavy fabric, his fingers brushed against something stiff tucked inside the deep interior chest pocket.
It was a thick, off-white envelope made of heavy linen paper. Unstained by the blood that had ruined her clothes.
May you like
Written across the front in Elena’s elegant, unmistakable handwriting were two words:
For Adrian.
