Chapter 4 - The Reunion in Room Four
The antiseptic smell of the hospital room was overpowered by the cold dampness clinging to Sarah’s clothes.
When I pushed the door open, the heart monitor beside the bed emitted a steady, rhythmic beep that seemed entirely too loud in the quiet room. Sarah was lying propped up on pillows. Her face was pale, shadowed with bruises along her jawline, and her lower lip was split. But it was her eyes—those familiar, piercing green eyes—that locked onto mine the second I stepped across the threshold.
For three seconds, neither of us breathed.
Then Sarah tried to sit up, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as pain flared through her ribs.
"Don't move," I said, rushing to her side and dropping onto the edge of the mattress. My fingers instinctively reached for her wrist, checking her pulse, acting like a doctor even though every instinct screamed at me to just hold my little sister. "Sarah. I'm here. You're safe."
Tears spilled over her lashes, hot and fast, tracking down her bruised cheeks. "Nathan..." Her voice was a cracked, raspy whisper, shredded from hours of screaming and cold air. "The babies... are they—"
"They're alive," I interrupted, my voice thick with emotion. "Lily brought them to my house. They're warm, they're breathing, and the pediatric team is monitoring them. They're going to be fine."
Sarah closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering sob that seemed to drain the last of her strength. She gripped my coat sleeve with a desperate, white-knuckled clutch, as if letting go would make me vanish like a phantom.
"He knew," she choked out, her fingers trembling against my fabric. "Marcus found the letter I wrote to you last month. He said... he said if I ever tried to run, he’d make sure I never saw the children again. Last night, he went crazy. He smashed my phone, threw me into the pantry, and locked the door. I told Lily... I told her to take the twins and run through the woods to your house. I knew... I prayed to God you were still there."
"I was there," I murmured, pressing my hand over her cold fingers. "She found me, Sarah. That little girl walked through a blizzard in bare feet because she has your strength. But why didn't you reach out sooner? Why didn't you tell me what he was doing?"
Sarah looked up at me, pain and guilt warring in her eyes. "I tried, Nathan. Months after we married, I tried to call you, but your number was disconnected. Then the letters stopped coming. Marcus showed me a letter—supposedly from you—saying you never wanted to hear from me again. He told me you threw away the bracelet I mailed back."
"I never threw it away," I said, my voice hardening. "And I never sent that letter. Marcus forged it. He sent me a fake bracelet and kept the real one to make me think you hated me."
Sarah stared at me, the horror dawning across her face. "He played us against each other from the very beginning."
Before we could unravel the web of deceit any further, the door burst open. Deputy Vance stood in the frame, his phone pressed to his ear, his face grim.
"Doctor Carter," Vance said, cutting off our conversation. "We just got a report from highway patrol. Marcus’s truck was found abandoned near the old logging road. But that's not all. The local banks just flagged a massive wire transfer attempt from Sarah’s personal trust account—an attempt made thirty minutes ago."
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Sarah stiffened in bed. "My trust account? But the password requires my biometric verification or my physical signature!"
"Not if someone has a notarized power of attorney signed by you," Vance said grimly. "And according to the bank, Marcus filed one last week, claiming you were incapacitated."
