Chapter 4 - The Blackmailed Nurse
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Jason Mercer sobbed uncontrollably, pulling his knees up to his chest as he sat collapsed against the exam room wall.
“She knew,” Jason choked out between ragged breaths. “The blonde woman... Savannah. She found out about a dosage mistake I made at my previous hospital in Houston. A mistake my supervisor helped cover up. She told me if I didn't administer the dose tonight, Preston Hartwell would use his influence to revoke my medical license and put me in prison.”
Uncle Nate grabbed Jason by the collar of his scrubs, pulling him up to his feet.
“You were willing to murder my niece and her unborn child to save your career?” Nate roared, his professional composure shattering into pure rage.
“No! She swore it wouldn't kill her!” Jason pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Savannah said it was just a temporary sedative! She said it would make Emily look like she was having a medical seizure so Mr. Hartwell’s private medics could take her away! She promised the baby would be fine!”
“You fool,” Nate spat, shoving him toward the security officer. “Put him in the holding cell downstairs and call the police. Tell them we have an attempted poisoning in progress.”
Once the guard dragged the sobbing nurse out, Uncle Nate walked over to the encrypted computer terminal mounted on the wall. He scanned his administrator badge and logged into St. Catherine’s master Electronic Medical Record system.
“If Preston brought his private team here, he didn't just rely on a rogue nurse,” Nate muttered, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “He had to lay the groundwork in her medical chart to justify an emergency transfer.”
The screen blinked, pulling up my official maternal profile. Uncle Nate’s hands froze over the keyboard.
I pushed myself off the exam table and walked over to look at the screen over his shoulder.
Under the Diagnoses tab, an entry had been added just two days ago, bearing the forged digital signature of an outside physician:
Patient exhibiting acute maternal psychosis, severe preeclampsia, and high risk of fetal demise. Immediate involuntary psychiatric commitment and emergency cesarean section recommended.
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“They weren't trying to divorce me,” I whispered, cold horror washing over me. “They were planning to erase me.”
“If you had lost consciousness in that hallway,” Uncle Nate said grimly, “Preston would have produced this chart. He would have cut the baby out of you in his private facility, and you would have woken up locked in a psych ward with no legal standing.”
