PART 4 — The Man Behind the Hospital Door
Charles stared at Warren.
Then at the hospital administrator standing behind him.
Dr. Robert Langley.
The man who had approved Charles's surgical privileges.
The man who had known Lillian's allergy history.
The man who had access to every medication record in the hospital.
Charles felt something inside him collapse.
“Get out,” he said.
Warren looked hurt.
“Charles.”
“I said get out.”
Dr. Langley stepped forward.
“Charles, there's no reason to become emotional.”
Teresa immediately moved between them.
“Neither of you is going anywhere.”
Warren raised his hands.
“I came because I heard Lillian woke up.”
“Who told you?”
“The hospital.”
Teresa looked at Langley.
“Who authorized him to enter this unit?”
Langley hesitated.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“He's her husband.”
Teresa's eyes narrowed.
“She's also a potential poisoning victim.”
Warren's face hardened.
“Poisoning?”
“Yes.”
“I thought this was an allergic reaction.”
“That's what you wanted everyone to believe.”
The room went silent.
Warren stared at Charles.
“You really believe I did this?”
Charles looked at him.
“I don't know what to believe anymore.”
Warren's eyes filled with something that looked like sadness.
Then he smiled.
“That hurts.”
Lillian began trembling.
“Don't listen to him.”
Warren turned toward her.
“Lillian.”
“Stay away from me.”
“I love you.”
“No.”
Her voice was weak but firm.
“You love what you get when I'm gone.”
Warren's expression changed.
Teresa noticed.
“Officer.”
Two deputies moved toward him.
Warren didn't resist.
But Dr. Langley suddenly stepped forward.
“You're making a serious mistake.”
Teresa turned.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
“Then step back.”
Langley obeyed.
Warren was escorted from the room.
But before leaving, he looked directly at Charles.
“You're going to regret choosing her.”
Then the door closed.
Lillian began crying.
Charles sat beside her.
“Tell me everything.”
She looked exhausted.
“I found the first record six months ago.”
“What record?”
“An old prescription.”
“For Warren's first wife.”
Charles listened.
“She had the same allergy.”
“Dexopraline.”
“Yes.”
“Was it prescribed?”
“No.”
Lillian looked at him.
“It was administered secretly.”
Charles felt sick.
“By whom?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how did you connect Warren to it?”
“Because the pharmacy records had been altered.”
“By Warren?”
“I found his employee credentials.”
Teresa leaned closer.
“What else?”
Lillian swallowed.
“There were four women.”
“Four?”
“Four women who died unexpectedly after becoming Warren's business associates or family members.”
Charles stared at her.
“Why?”
“Money.”
She looked toward Teresa.
“Every death transferred something valuable to Warren.”
“Life insurance?”
“Insurance. Property. Business shares.”
Teresa's face hardened.
“Do you have proof?”
“Some.”
“Where?”
Lillian closed her eyes.
“Warren doesn't know about one copy.”
“Where is it?”
She looked at Charles.
“I gave it to you.”
Charles frowned.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“I don't remember.”
“You do.”
She whispered:
“The envelope.”
Charles suddenly remembered.
Three months earlier, Lillian had given him a plain brown envelope at the hospital.
He had forgotten about it.
He had put it inside an old medical textbook.
He rushed to his office.
The envelope was still there.
Inside were photographs.
Bank records.
Prescription forms.
Insurance documents.
And a handwritten list of four names.
Beside each name was a date of death.
The last name was Lillian's.
Her death date was written:
August 31, 2026.
Charles stared at the page.
Today's date.
Teresa whispered:
“He planned this for today.”
Then Charles saw something else.
A fifth name.
Not yet crossed out.
Charles Fletcher.
His own death date was tomorrow.
August 1?
He checked the document again.
No.
The date was clear.
September 1, 2026.
Tomorrow.
Charles felt cold.
Teresa immediately called for protection.
But before anyone could respond, her phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She listened.
Then looked at Charles.
“The evidence room has been breached.”
“What evidence?”
“The Dexopraline patch.”
Charles's stomach dropped.
“How?”
“Someone used your hospital credentials.”
“I wasn't there.”
“I know.”
“Whose credentials?”
Teresa hesitated.
“Dr. Robert Langley's.”
Charles closed his eyes.
The hospital administrator.
The man who had entered Lillian's room with Warren.
The man who had access to her medical history.
And perhaps the man who had placed the patch.
Then Teresa received another alert.
“Someone just accessed Lillian's medical file.”
“Who?”
She read the screen.
“Warren Prescott.”
“That isn't possible.”
“He's no longer inside the hospital.”
Charles looked toward the hallway.
“Then someone is using his account.”
A nurse suddenly screamed.
Everyone turned.
Smoke began pouring from the far end of the corridor.
The fire alarm erupted.
“Fire!”
Doctors rushed patients out of rooms.
Charles ran toward Lillian.
Teresa shouted:
“Charles! Don't!”
But he was already beside her bed.
He disconnected the portable equipment.
“I've got her.”
The smoke thickened.
Lillian opened her eyes.
“Charles…”
“I'm here.”
“Listen to me.”
“What?”
“Warren didn't start the fire.”
Charles froze.
“How do you know?”
She stared at him.
“Because the man who did…”
She coughed.
“…was the same man who tried to kill me.”
Charles looked toward the corridor.
Through the smoke stood a silhouette.
A man in a hospital coat.
He slowly raised his head.
Charles recognized him.
Dr. Robert Langley.
And in his hand was a syringe.
