The Hospital

The curtain snapped shut, sealing Iris in with the faint smell of iodine and Julian’s cologne. She stared at the clipboard in his hand, the 72-hour hold paperwork a death sentence in triplicate. He had thought of everything. The arson, the reckless driving, the "mental instability." It was a perfect, seamless net, and she was caught in the center.

"I won't sign it," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"You don't have to," Julian said, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "The doctors have already signed it. They saw a woman crash a van into her uncle’s car. They saw her raving about secret rooms and hidden prisoners."

He stepped closer, looming over the gurney. "You're sick, Iris. Everyone can see it."

"Where is Elias?" she asked. "What have you done with him?"

"He's safe," Julian said smoothly. "In a secure wing. Sedated, of course. For his own protection."

"You can't keep him there forever."

"I don't need forever," Julian said. "I just need a few days. Enough time to arrange for a more... permanent facility. One that understands the need for privacy."

He wasn't going to kill Elias. Not yet. He still needed him alive for the trust. But he would bury him so deep this time that no drone, no fire, no cousin would ever find him.

"And Sabrina?" Iris asked. "Does she know you're doing this?"

Julian’s face tightened. "Sabrina is confused. She’s been under a lot of stress. But she’ll come around. She always does."

He checked his watch. "I have to go. There are statements to give, lawyers to brief. The police are very apologetic about the misunderstanding."

He turned to leave.

"Julian," Iris said.

He stopped, his hand on the curtain.

"The trust fund is empty," she said.

Julian froze. He didn't turn around.

"I saw the records," Iris continued, her heart pounding. "I saw the transfers. You stole it all."

"You're hallucinating," he said, but his voice was tight.

"And I saw the beneficiary change," she said. "Three days ago. You transferred the debt to Sabrina."

Julian turned then. His eyes were cold, dead things.

"I did what I had to do," he said. "To survive."

"You sacrificed your own daughter," Iris said. "Just like you sacrificed Elias. Just like you sacrificed Sarah."

"Sabrina isn't my daughter," Julian spat. "She's a liability. Just like you."

He ripped the curtain open.

Two orderlies were waiting outside. Big men. Bored expressions.

"She's becoming agitated," Julian told them. "Please make sure she's sedated."

He walked away, his footsteps echoing down the sterile hallway.

The orderlies moved in. One of them grabbed Iris's arm. The other prepared a syringe.

"No," Iris said, struggling. "I don't need that. I'm fine."

"Doctor's orders, honey," the man said.

The needle pricked her skin. Cold liquid flooded her veins.

The world tilted. The lights blurred.

She fought it. She tried to think of Maya. Of Marcus. Of Elias.

But the darkness was too heavy. It pulled her down, down, down.

When she woke up, she was in a different room. No windows. Just a bed bolted to the floor and a heavy steel door.

She was in the psych ward. Locked in.

Just like Elias.

She sat up, her head swimming. She checked her pockets. Empty. They had taken her phone. Her keys. Everything.

She went to the door. Locked.

She pounded on it. "Let me out! I need to speak to a lawyer!"

Silence.

She sank to the floor. It was over. Julian had won. He had the money, the power, the narrative. And he had Elias.

But then, she remembered something.

Julian's face when she mentioned the beneficiary change. The way he had flinched.

He thought Sabrina was a liability. He thought she was weak.

But Sabrina knew about the debt now. She knew she wasn't a Vance. And she knew Julian had set her up to take the fall.

Iris wasn't the only one who needed to break the power of attorney. She wasn't the only one who needed to prove Julian was unfit.

Sabrina did.

And Sabrina wasn't in a cell.