Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN WHO STAYED THROUGH THE FEVER
When Megan opened her eyes, she did not realize I was awake.
For several seconds, she simply blinked at me through exhaustion, her hand still around mine.
Then awareness hit.
She jerked upright.
“Oh.”
Her eighteen-month-old son stirred beneath the yellow blanket.
Megan immediately froze again.
Not because of me.
Because she did not want to wake him.
That small detail did something strange to my chest.
“You’re awake,” she whispered.
“Apparently.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“How do you feel?”
“Like someone put an engine inside my skull.”
“Good.”
I stared.
“Good?”
“If you can complain, you’re alive.”
I looked toward the thermometer.
103.1.
Last reading.
The fever had been worse earlier.
“What happened?”
“You collapsed.”
“I don’t collapse.”
“You made an excellent attempt.”
I almost smiled again.
Almost.
Then I remembered.
The dinner meeting.
The whiskey.
The sudden dizziness.
My legs—useless for years—felt strangely numb in a different way.
Then nothing.
“Who called you?”
“Nancy.”
“Why are you here?”
Megan looked genuinely confused.
“Because you were sick.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“It absolutely answers the question.”
I studied her.
Nobody remained beside Dominic Mason without motive.
Money.
Fear.
Leverage.
Megan looked like she had slept thirty minutes in ten hours.
Her son was curled against her.
A cheap diaper bag sat beside the chair.
No audience.
No performance.
Just a stubborn maid too poor to miss work who had stayed anyway.
“Where is Dr. Hayes?”
Her expression changed.
That was enough.
“What?”
“He left.”
“Why?”
“Because I told him to.”
Silence.
I slowly turned my head.
“You told my physician to leave my house?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He tried to give you something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
My voice hardened.
“Megan.”
She reached into her pocket.
A small glass vial.
Unlabeled.
Clear liquid.
“He said it would reduce the fever.”
“And?”
“I asked what it was.”
Her jaw tightened.
“He told me not to worry about it.”
That sounded like Hayes.
Arrogant.
Expensive.
Trusted.
Megan continued.
“So I asked again.”
“And?”
“He told Nancy to remove me from the room.”
I looked toward the door.
Nancy had been with my family twenty-eight years.
She would never remove Megan from my room without my order.
“She refused?”
Megan nodded.
“Then I asked Dr. Hayes why there was no label.”
My pulse changed.
“What did he say?”
“He got angry.”
She held up the vial.
“So I kept it.”
“You stole medication from my doctor.”
“I protected medication from your bloodstream.”
Fair.
Then Megan looked down at our joined hands and slowly pulled hers away.
For some reason, I hated the absence immediately.
“Did he inject anything before you stopped him?”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
My body went cold.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“How much?”
“A small syringe.”
“When?”
“Before I came in.”
I remembered waking briefly.
A needle.
Dr. Hayes telling me to relax.
Then darkness.
My fever had started after that.
I looked at Megan.
“You think he caused this.”
“I think doctors usually know what they’re injecting.”
That was not an answer.
It was worse.
I reached for my phone.
Before I could touch it, the bedroom door opened.
Nancy entered.
Her face was pale.
“Mr. Mason.”
“What?”
She held a folded medical chart.
“I checked your old records.”
Something in her voice told me the night was not finished.
“What did you find?”
Nancy looked at my wheelchair.
May you like
Then at me.
“The same drug Dr. Hayes injected tonight was in your system the night you lost the use of your legs.”
