Chapter 94: Rock Bottom

The drive back to the city was a blur of neon lights and dark thoughts. I sat in the back of the SUV, clutching the phone like a lifeline. Ben drove, his jaw set so tight I thought his teeth might crack. Lucia was next to me, cleaning the gun.

"Twenty-four hours," I said, staring at the time on the screen. "We have less than twenty."

"It's a setup," Ben said. "They want you to come back so they can arrest you for kidnapping."

"They dropped the charges," I said. "The lawyer said so."

"The lawyer lied," Lucia said, snapping the magazine back into the pistol. "Lawyers always lie. Especially Edith's."

"It doesn't matter," I said. "If I don't go, they kill Clara. If I do go... maybe I can stop them."

"Stop them how?" Ben asked. "With what?"

I looked at the hard drive in my pocket. The blackmail. The leverage.

"With this," I said. "Reeves isn't the only name on the list. There are judges. Senators. Maybe even a few board members of St. Jude's."

"You want to blackmail a hospital?" Lucia asked.

"I want to blackmail the system," I said.

We reached the outskirts of the city just as the sun began to rise. The skyline was gray, indifferent.

"Drop me off," I said.

"Where?"

"The courthouse," I said. "I need to file an injunction. Stop the termination order."

"You can't go alone," Ben said.

"I have to," I said. "If you come with me, you're accessories. Again."

Ben pulled over. He turned around in his seat, his eyes tired.

"Sarah," he said. "This ends today. One way or another."

"I know," I said.

I got out. The air was cold, biting. I watched the SUV drive away, taking my family, my safety.

I walked into the courthouse. It was early, the halls empty except for janitors and security guards. I found the clerk's office.

"I need to file an emergency injunction," I told the clerk, a woman with glasses on a chain.

She looked at me. Then she looked at her computer.

"Name?"

"Sarah Sterling."

Her fingers paused over the keyboard. She looked up again, her eyes narrowing.

"Wait here," she said.

She got up and walked into the back office.

I waited. One minute. Two.

Then, I saw them.

Two uniformed officers walking down the hall. Not casually. With purpose.

They were coming for me.

The clerk had flagged me.

I turned and walked away. Calmly at first, then faster. I turned a corner and broke into a run.

"Hey!" one of the officers shouted.

I hit the stairwell. Down. Basement level.

I ran through the labyrinth of tunnels that connected the courthouse to the detention center. I found an exit door. Locked.

I kicked it. Nothing.

I heard footsteps behind me.

I looked around. A fire extinguisher.

I grabbed it and smashed the handle against the lock. Once. Twice.

The door gave way.

I burst out into an alley. Garbage cans. Rats. Freedom.

I ran until my lungs burned. I ducked into a subway station, blending into the morning rush hour crowd.

I was a fugitive. Again.

And I had failed. The injunction wasn't filed. Clara was still on the clock.

I checked my phone. Ten hours left.

I needed help. Real help.

I dialed a number I hadn't used in years.

"Hello?"

"Aunt Mary?" I asked.

Silence. Then a gasp.

"Sarah? Is that you? The news said you were..."

"I'm alive," I said. "Listen, Mary. I need you to do something for me. Something dangerous."

Mary was Edith's cousin. The black sheep. The one who had married a plumber and been cut off from the Trust. She hated Edith almost as much as I did.

"Anything," she said.

"Go to St. Jude's," I said. "Go to the ICU. Find Clara's room. And don't let anyone in."

"Sarah, I can't stop the doctors."

"You don't have to stop them," I said. "Just witness them. Bring a camera. Livestream it if you have to. Just make sure they know the world is watching."

"Okay," she said. "I'm on my way."

I hung up.

It was a stall tactic. It wouldn't save her.

I needed to get to the hospital. But the police would be waiting.

I needed a distraction.

I looked at the hard drive.

I found an internet cafe. I paid cash for an hour. I plugged in the drive.

I opened the folder marked *MEDIA*.

There was a list of contacts. Editors. Producers. Bloggers.

I selected them all.

Subject line: *The Sterling Files.*

Attachment: *Everything.*

I hit send.

Then I walked out.

By the time I reached the hospital, the chaos had already started. News vans were blocking the ambulances. Reporters were shouting at the police line.

"It's true!" someone yelled. "The senator is on the list!"

"The judge took a bribe!"

I pulled my hood up and slipped through the crowd. The police were too busy holding back the press to notice one woman in a gray coat.

I made it to the service entrance. Locked.

But the delivery dock was open. A truck was unloading linens.

I grabbed a laundry cart and pushed it inside.

I took the service elevator to the ICU. The halls were quiet here, insulated from the madness outside.

I found Room 404.

Aunt Mary was there. She was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, filming with her phone. Two security guards were trying to move her.

"I have a right to be here!" she shouted. "She's my cousin!"

"Ma'am, you're disrupting patient care," one guard said.

I walked up behind them.

"She's not disrupting anything," I said.

The guards turned. They recognized me.

"Ms. Sterling," one said, reaching for his radio.

"Don't," I said.

I held up my phone. On the screen was a live feed of the news.

*BREAKING: Massive Leak Exposes Sterling Trust Corruption.*

"Your bosses are being arrested right now," I said. "Do you really want to be the ones who stopped the whistleblower?"

The guards hesitated. They looked at each other. Then at the TV.

They lowered their hands.

"We didn't see you," one said.

They walked away.

"Sarah!" Mary cried, hugging me.

"Thank you," I said. "Now go. Before they change their minds."

Mary nodded and ran down the hall.

I walked into the room.

Clara was in the bed. She looked small, frail. Tubes ran into her nose and arms. The monitor beeped steadily.

And standing over her, her hand on the plug of the ventilator, was Edith.

Not the lawyer. Not Martha.

Edith.

She was burned. Her face was a mask of scars on one side. Her hair was gone. She was wearing a stolen nurse's uniform.

But it was her.

She looked up at me. Her good eye widened.

"You're hard to kill," she rasped.

"So are you," I said.

"I made a promise," she said. "To protect this family."

"You destroyed this family," I said.

I took a step forward.

"Get away from her."

"She's suffering, Sarah," Edith said, her hand tightening on the plug. "Look at her. She's broken. I'm doing her a kindness."

"You're doing it because she knows," I said. "She knows you're not the matriarch. You're the mistake."

Edith's face twisted.

"I am the Sterling name!" she screamed.

She yanked the plug.

The machine went silent.

The hiss of the ventilator stopped.

Clara's chest stopped moving.

"No!" I shouted.

I lunged for the plug. Edith blocked me. She was weak, but she was desperate. She shoved me back.

"Let her go!" she yelled.

I hit her. I punched her in the scarred side of her face. She screamed and fell back.

I grabbed the plug. I jammed it back into the wall.

The machine whirred.

*Beep.*

Nothing.

*Beep.*

Silence.

I looked at the monitor. Flatline.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no."

I started compressions. *One, two, three, four.*

"Come on, Clara," I begged. "Come on, Mom."

Edith was laughing. A high, wheezing sound from the floor.

"It's over," she said. "I won."

I kept pumping. My arms burned.

"Clear!" a voice shouted.

Dr. Patel rushed in with the crash cart. She pushed me aside.

"Charge to 200!"

*Thump.*

Nothing.

"Charge to 300!"

*Thump.*

I watched the screen. The green line was flat. Dead.

Dr. Patel lowered the paddles. She looked at the clock.

"Time of death..."

"No!" I screamed.

I grabbed Edith by the collar of her stolen scrubs. I dragged her to the bed.

"Look at her!" I yelled. "Look at what you did!"

Edith looked. She stopped laughing.

Clara's eyes were open. Staring at the ceiling.

And in her hand, clutched tight in a death grip...

Was a small, silver key.

The key to the lockbox. The one I thought I had lost in the fire.

She had had it all along.

"She saved it," I whispered.

I pried the key from her cold fingers.

I looked at Edith.

"You didn't win," I said. "You just lost your last hostage."