Chapter 5 - The Shadow Follows
The next morning, Margaret’s jaw throbbed, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the panic setting in.
Brandon had locked her inside the house.
He had taken her phone, cut the landline, and engaged the security system from his master application.
"You are not going to work," he had hissed before leaving for the hospital. "And you are not visiting that brain-dead brother of yours. If you try to leave, I will make the call to Rosewood right now."
Margaret sat on the edge of the bed, Austin's overcoat still draped over a chair in the corner.
She slipped her hand into the pocket.
Her fingers brushed against a heavy, embossed business card. On the back, written in elegant black ink, was a private cell phone number.
She had no phone to call it with.
But Margaret was a nurse. She was trained to handle emergencies. She knew how to stay calm when monitors flatlined.
She walked to the kitchen and looked at the smart-fridge screen. Brandon had disabled the Wi-Fi on the computers, but he had forgotten the appliances.
With shaking hands, Margaret accessed the fridge's built-in browser, logged into a web-based email account she had kept secret for years, and typed a message to the only person she could trust at the hospital: a security guard named Marcus.
Marcus. Please call Rosewood Care Center. Tell them not to accept any transfer orders for Teddy. Then call this number...
She typed Austin's number.
Two hours later, a black SUV parked outside the Whitmore estate gates.
Margaret watched from the second-floor window.
The security gates, which supposedly required a twelve-digit passcode, slowly slid open without a sound.
The front door chimed.
Margaret ran downstairs just as Austin Fontaine walked into the foyer, holding a small electronic decryption device.
He looked around the empty house, his eyes landing on her bruised face.
"I didn't think he was stupid enough to lock you in," Austin murmured, his jaw tightening.
"He's going to hurt my brother," Margaret blurted out, tears finally spilling over. "He pays for Teddy's facility. If I leave, Teddy gets thrown out."
Austin pulled a manila folder from his jacket and handed it to her.
"Look inside."
Margaret opened it.
It was a fully paid, five-year residency contract for Teddy at the most exclusive neurological rehabilitation center in Switzerland.
"Your brother was moved this morning," Austin said. "He is currently on a private jet with a team of specialists."
Margaret's knees buckled.
Austin caught her before she hit the floor.
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"Why?" she sobbed against his chest. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because my mother asked me to," Austin replied gently. "And because no one who hurts a woman like you deserves to breathe the same air."
