Chapter 146

Chapter 146
Olivia continued on alone. She walked to where she parked her car and grabbed her mug from the passenger seat.
The same woman from the lobby was now standing a short distance away, still on her phone.
“…just tell her when she wakes up.” She said, climbing into her car.
Before the woman drove off, Olivia caught a glimpse of the woman slipping out of her blazer, revealing a fitted sleeveless top underneath. On her slim shoulder sat a small tattoo.
Olivia always wanted a tattoo but Mrs. Hilton would absolutely lose her mind if she ever got one.
Still… it wasn’t impossible.
Maybe I’ll get one too, Olivia thought. Mrs. Hilton wouldn’t know. Not if I had it somewhere hidden.
—
Olivia took a generous bite of the raspberry vanilla cupcake in her hand. She wasn’t much of a fan of vanilla but this one had looked particularly tempting.
The moment it touched her tongue, her eyes lit up. The sweetness was gentle, and the vanilla surprisingly didn’t overwhelm the taste of the fruit.
“So what do you think?” Jessy looked at her with expectant eyes.
They had just finished their meal and were now savoring the dessert Jessy brought to work.
“Did you really make this?”
“Of course.”
“Dangerously good,” Olivia finally said, “You could open a dessert shop with skills like this.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jessy grinned, evidently proud of her work.
They were interrupted by the door opening. A nurse walked in. Jessy lifted a hand, beckoning her to come. The nurse was the one currently assigned to Annalise.
“Did Mrs. Flynn’s husband came to the hospital?”
The nurse set her lunch bag on the table before taking the seat beside Jessy. She made a face. “No. We tried reaching him again, but he’s still out of contact.”
Olivia checked her watch. Seeing the time, she finished her cupcake, deciding it was time for her to go.
“Please excuse me ladies. I’ll head to Dr. Wilson’s office. I need to go over the report for the surgery this evening.”
Both nurses nodded, and Olivia took it as her cue to leave. She slipped out of the room. Her thoughts were already moving ahead to the long list of preparations, and everything that needed to be done to make sure the operation would go smoothly.
Walking down the long hallway, she passed through the lobby.
A man stood at the information desk, speaking quietly with the receptionist. He was tall—though not quite as tall as her husband. Handsome, but not in the obvious, head-turning way Clayton was.
His skin was sun-kissed, and his right arm was covered in tattoos. But it was the chess piece tattoo that caught her eye. It stirred a flicker of recognition, reminding her of the tattoo she had noticed on the woman in the parking area.
As if sensing her gaze, he turned.
Their eyes met for a brief moment—just a second—before he looked away and walked off.
Olivia frowned.
Have I seen him before?
No. She would have remembered. A tattoo like that wasn’t something easily forgotten.
Shaking off the thought, she continued down the hall until she reached Dr. Wilson’s office. He wasn't there when she stepped inside. Still, she took a seat, deciding it'd be better if she waited for his return.
Dr. Wilson’s office was neat, visually pleasing to the eye. Not a single thing was out of place. Papers sat in perfect stacks and books on the shelves were organized by genre. Everything had order. It was one of Olivia’s favorite places in the hospital for that very reason.
On his desk, there was a framed photo. It was a photo of Dr. Wilson and his children. She traced the edge of the frame with her thumb, a faint smile tugging at her lips. He looked younger there. There wasn’t a trace of gray in his hair. It must have been taken years ago.
Crash!
Olivia shot up from her chair, a hand flying to her chest. Her eyes darted toward the sound..
The wall frame had fallen, the glass had scattered into thousand minute pieces on the floor.
Heart racing, she crouched down and reached for it. It was an extended family picture, taken during what looked like a reunion. Her eyes scanned smiling faces until it stopped into a familiar figure of a man.
She couldn't be mistaken. It was him. The man from the hallway.
Thump. Thump.
A cold sensation crawled down her spine—the unmistakable warning she had learned not to ignore. It didn’t come often, but when it did, something was always wrong.
Very wrong. Olivia dropped the frame.
Then she sprinted. Out the door. Down the long, endless hallway. Someone called her name. She didn’t stop.
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she raced toward the patient’s room. She shoved the door open and went rigid.
There he was, the same man from the lobby, pressing a pillow down over Annalise’s face, veins popped out along his neck.
“You sick bastard! Get your hands off her!
Olivia gritted her jaw. She had spent three hours saving that woman, only for this bastard to try and end her life.
The man looked up, startled. Instinctively, he stepped back from the bed, though the pillow remained clutched in his hand. “This isn’t what it looks like—” he explained, but the look in her eyes cut him off.
“I saw enough.”
The ends of his mouth twisted in a sinister grin. “I guess I don’t have a choice, then.” He let the pillow fall. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
Slowly, he lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing something clipped to his belt.
But Olivia was faster, and a little well trained.
Her hand was already at her waist, fingers wrapping around the cold, hard steel. Not batting an eye, no second thoughts.
She raised it.
And fired.
No one dares try to harm her patient and gets away with it unscathed.