Chapter 3 - THE SECOND DEATH CERTIFICATE
Sterling entered the guest room carrying a folder.
Willa had emerged from the bathroom moments earlier while Mara slipped into an adjoining dressing room through an old servants’ door Crowley knew about.
“What does that mean?” Willa asked.
Sterling placed the folder on a table.
“Dr. Whitfield believes Everett suffered a catastrophic neurological event during tonight’s episode.”
“You mean the episode where he woke up and accused Whitfield of betraying him?”
Sterling’s jaw tightened.
“Whitfield believes your interference caused irreversible damage.”
“How convenient.”
“His prognosis is now measured in hours.”
Willa stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that.”
“I expect nothing from you except cooperation.”
He opened the folder.
Inside was a document.
Willa read the heading.
ADVANCE DIRECTIVE — EVERETT JAMES KANE.
“Everett supposedly signed this?” she asked.
“Years ago.”
“It says life support can be withdrawn under specific circumstances.”
“Yes.”
“He is breathing largely on his own.”
“For now.”
Sterling turned another page.
A physician certification.
Already signed by Alan Whitfield.
Willa felt sick.
“You planned this.”
Sterling smiled faintly.
“Careful.”
“You kept him sedated until the marriage was completed.”
No response.
“Why?”
Sterling walked toward her.
“Because certain shares of Kane Consolidated cannot pass directly to me while Everett remains unmarried.”
Willa stared.
“You needed a spouse.”
“Everett’s grandfather believed marriage stabilized men.”
“Clearly he never met this family.”
The smile disappeared.
Sterling continued.
“Under the family trust, Everett’s controlling interest passes to a surviving spouse for ninety days, after which specific transfer provisions can be exercised.”
Willa understood.
“You married me to him because you thought I’d be easy to control.”
“You were selected because you had no money, no professional reputation and one vulnerable dependent.”
Her mother.
Willa’s nails dug into her palms.
“What happens when Everett dies?”
“You sign several documents.”
“And if I refuse?”
Sterling stepped closer.
“Ruth Hayes currently resides in one of the finest memory-care facilities in Illinois because Kane Family Holdings acquired the facility’s debt last month.”
Willa’s stomach dropped.
“You bought the facility.”
“An investment subsidiary did.”
“You threatened my mother before you ever approached me.”
“I created an opportunity for mutual cooperation.”
Willa wanted to slap him.
Instead, she smiled.
Sterling’s expression shifted.
“What?”
“You made one mistake.”
“And what is that?”
“You thought having nothing meant I had nothing to lose.”
For the first time, something like irritation crossed his face.
“You have until morning to become reasonable.”
He left.
As soon as the door closed, Mara emerged.
“He admitted enough to bury himself,” she whispered.
Willa stared.
“You heard everything?”
Mara held up her phone.
“Recorded everything.”
Willa nearly collapsed with relief.
“Send it somewhere.”
“No signal in this wing.”
“Wi-Fi?”
“Controlled network.”
Crowley entered through the servants’ door.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“Whitfield ordered the medical staff dismissed.”
“All of them?”
“Two nurses and a respiratory therapist were told Everett was entering end-of-life care.”
Willa’s blood ran cold.
“He’s isolating him.”
“Yes.”
“Take me back.”
Crowley shook his head.
“Security doubled outside his door.”
Mara looked at Willa.
“Could Whitfield kill him without making it obvious?”
Willa answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Eight months of hospitalization gives him almost unlimited options. Cardiac arrhythmia. Respiratory failure. Aspiration. A dosage error. Even a blood clot.”
Mara went pale.
“How long?”
“If Sterling said hours, I believe him.”
They needed a distraction.
A major one.
Willa looked at Crowley.
“Where’s the fire alarm panel?”
He blinked.
“Basement service corridor.”
“Can it trigger a full evacuation?”
“This mansion has private emergency protocols.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Crowley understood.
“Yes.”
Mara shook her head.
“They’ll move Everett with security.”
“Exactly.”
Willa explained her plan.
At 4:16 a.m., alarms exploded throughout the Kane estate.
Red lights flashed.
A recorded voice ordered immediate evacuation.
Staff poured into hallways.
Security teams split between wings.
In Everett’s bedroom, Whitfield shouted for assistance.
Two guards rolled Everett’s hospital bed toward the service elevator.
Willa waited behind a linen cart wearing a stolen housekeeper’s coat.
As the bed passed, Crowley deliberately released a fire extinguisher in the corridor.
White chemical mist filled the hallway.
People coughed.
Visibility vanished.
Mara screamed from the opposite direction.
“Smoke in the west stairwell!”
One guard ran toward her.
Willa stepped from behind the linen cart.
The remaining guard saw her too late.
She drove the heavy cart into his knees.
He fell.
Willa grabbed Everett’s bed.
“Everett, it’s me.”
His eyes remained shut.
But his finger moved beneath the blanket.
Once.
She pushed.
The service elevator opened.
Crowley joined her.
They rolled Everett inside.
“Basement?” Willa asked.
“No. Garage.”
They descended.
Behind them, someone shouted.
Sterling.
The elevator doors closed.
Garage level.
Crowley led them through rows of luxury vehicles toward an old gray maintenance van.
Mara appeared seconds later.
“Security knows.”
They loaded Everett and his portable monitor into the van.
Willa climbed beside him.
Crowley took the wheel.
The garage doors began opening.
Then stopped halfway.
Steel security shutters dropped.
Crowley slammed the brakes.
“We’re locked in.”
Headlights appeared behind them.
Three black SUVs.
Sterling stepped from the first.
Whitfield from the second.
Men spread across the garage.
Mara looked at Willa.
“What now?”
Willa checked Everett.
Blood pressure low but stable.
His eyes fluttered.
“Everett,” she whispered, “if you have any miracles left, now would be a good time.”
His lips barely moved.
She bent close.
One word escaped.
“Bentley.”
“What?”
His finger pointed weakly.
Across the garage sat a vintage dark-blue Bentley.
Mara stared.
“That was our father’s.”
Everett whispered again.
“Key.”
“Where?”
His hand trembled toward his chest.
Willa searched the hospital gown beneath his suit shirt.
Nothing.
Then she remembered the wedding.
A chain around his neck.
She pulled it free.
A small brass key hung beneath the fabric.
Crowley’s eyes widened.
“The old tunnel.”
Sterling began walking toward them.
“Enough!”
Mara jumped from the van and unlocked the Bentley.
Crowley transferred Everett while Willa held the monitor.
Sterling started running.
Crowley turned the key.
The Bentley roared awake.
Mara hit a hidden switch beneath the dashboard.
A section of the garage wall began rising.
Behind it was darkness.
A tunnel.
Sterling screamed, “STOP THEM!”
Gunfire cracked through the garage.
The Bentley shot forward.
Glass shattered.
Willa threw herself over Everett.
They entered the tunnel.
Behind them, the hidden wall descended.
For several seconds there was only darkness and the engine’s roar.
Then Everett began coughing.
His heart rate climbed.
Willa checked him.
“Stay with me.”
His eyes opened slightly.
“Where does this tunnel go?” she asked.
Mara looked back from the passenger seat.
“An abandoned boathouse half a mile north.”
“And then?”
Nobody answered.
Willa understood.
They had escaped the house.
But Everett needed medical care.
Real medical care.
And every hospital in Chicago would recognize the name Everett Kane within minutes.
Then his monitor alarm changed.
Willa looked down.
His rhythm was irregular.
“No.”
“What?” Mara asked.
“Something Whitfield gave him is affecting his heart.”
Everett’s eyes closed.
His pulse dropped.
Fifty.
Forty-six.
Forty-two.
Willa reached for the emergency kit.
“Everett!”
May you like
The Bentley burst from the tunnel into freezing predawn rain.
And Everett Kane’s heart stopped.
