Chapter 4 - The Midnight Alliance
Ethan pressed the phone tightly against his ear.
“Claire?” he hissed, glancing nervously toward the hallway.
“Listen to me very carefully,” the former nanny said.
“The woman who had my job before me figured out what they are doing to Noah.”
“She was murdered for it.”
Ethan felt the floor tilt beneath his feet.
“I just found paralytics hidden in his medicine,” Ethan confessed, his voice shaking.
“They are paralyzing my son on purpose.”
“Meet me at the old greenhouse on the edge of the property,” Claire ordered.
“Do not tell anyone you are leaving the main house.”
The line went dead.
Ethan shoved the poisoned pill bottle deep into his pocket.
He poured a glass of water and walked back into the living room.
Dr. Vance and Margaret were standing entirely too close together, speaking in hushed tones.
They abruptly stopped talking when Ethan entered.
“I gave him the medication,” Ethan lied smoothly.
“He is already falling asleep.”
Margaret offered a sympathetic, chilling smile.
“It is for his own good, Mr. Caldwell.”
Ethan excused himself, claiming he had urgent business calls to make.
He waited in his study until the clock struck midnight and the house went completely silent.
He slipped out the back door and sprinted across the dark, manicured lawn.
The glass walls of the abandoned greenhouse loomed in the moonlight.
Claire was waiting inside, clutching the leather-bound diary to her chest.
She handed it to Ethan without a word.
He used his phone’s flashlight to read the frantic, bloody entries.
“The harvest,” Ethan whispered, sick to his stomach.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means Noah isn't a patient,” Claire replied grimly.
“He is an incubator.”
“They are keeping his body perfectly preserved for something, or someone, else.”
Ethan closed the book, a terrifying rage building in his chest.
“I am calling the police,” he declared.
“You can't,” Claire warned, grabbing his arm.
“Margaret has been poisoning him for years under the guise of legitimate medical care.”
“Vance is a highly respected specialist.”
“If you call the cops without hard proof, they will claim you are a hysterical, grieving father.”
“They will take Noah away from you permanently.”
Ethan knew she was entirely right.
“Then what do we do?” he asked.
“We get him out tonight,” Claire said.
They crept back across the lawn, moving like ghosts in the dark.
Ethan quietly unlocked the back door and led Claire up the stairs.
They gently pushed open the door to Noah’s bedroom.
The bed was completely empty.
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The wheelchair was gone.
And a single line of fresh blood led from the mattress to the hallway.
