Chapter 311 Chapter 312

Chapter 311 Chapter 312
Chapter 312

Nikolai’s POV 

The steady, rhythmic beep of the cardiac monitor was the only sound keeping the cold hospital room alive.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Two weeks had passed since the night our father walked out that front door and vanished into the sky. Two weeks of total radio silence from NASA command, zero official answers, and endless government men in dark suits lingering around our family home. The pressure had been relentless, crushing down on our family like a hydraulic press until my mother’s fragile heart simply gave out.

She had collapsed on the marble floor of her bedroom three days ago, a massive cerebral hemorrhage tearing through her brain before she could even cry for help.

Now, she lay motionless on the high-tech hospital bed, surrounded by a maze of clear plastic IV tubes, artificial respirators, and complex medical monitors. Her face was as pale as the white sheets, all the radiant warmth and gentle pianist elegance completely drained from her skin.

I stood beside her bed, my arms crossed tightly over my bare chest, staring at the green numbers fluctuating on the digital monitors. My identical twin brother, Nicholas, sat in the corner chair, wearing his clean white medical student coat. His face was buried in his hands, his broad shoulders trembling with quiet, desperate exhaustion.

"Her intracranial pressure is spiking again," Nicholas muttered, his voice muffled against his palms. "The brainstem reflexes are completely dull, Nikolai. As a medical student... I know what those readings mean. The doctors say her neural tissue is starving for oxygen."

"The machines say she is still breathing," I replied, my voice sharp and flat, devoid of any visible emotion. "Her heart is pumping. She is still alive, Nicholas."

"Is she?" Nicholas asked, lifting his head. His eyes were red, bloodshot, and filled with a mixture of grief and growing anger. "Or are those expensive machines just pumping air into a cold shell? Look at her, Nikolai! She is not waking up! The doctors said the damage is irreversible!"

"Doctors make mistakes," I said coldly, my dark eyes locked onto the glowing green line of her heartbeat. "Especially doctors who are paid by state agencies."

The heavy wooden door to the private ICU room clicked open, breaking our tense conversation.

Dr. Vane, the chief neurosurgeon heading my mother's case, stepped into the room. He was a tall, silver-haired man in his late fifties, carrying a thick black tablet under his arm. Behind him walked two hospital administrators wearing sharp gray suits.

"Boys," Dr. Vane said, his tone carrying that practiced, artificial sympathy that senior doctors used on grieving families. "I need to speak with both of you regarding your mother's treatment plan."

Nicholas immediately stood up, adjusting his white coat. "What do the latest CT scans show, Dr. Vane? Has the cerebral edema gone down?"

Dr. Vane let out a slow, controlled sigh, stepping over to the side of the bed. He tapped the black tablet, bringing up a series of dark brain scans. "I am sorry, Nicholas. The necrotic tissue has spread across both hemispheres. Her brain activity is virtually nonexistent."

"Which means?" I asked, stepping forward until I stood directly in front of the doctor, towering over him.

Dr. Vane cleared his throat, avoiding direct eye contact with me. "Which means keeping her on full life support is no longer medically viable. It is merely prolonging the inevitable. The administration recommends we transition her to palliative comfort measures tonight. We quietly disconnect the ventilator, administer a sedative, and let her pass away peacefully."

"No," I said instantly, the word dropping like an anvil onto the tiled floor.

"Nikolai, listen to him," Nicholas whispered, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes. "He is the chief neurosurgeon. If the brain tissue is dead..."

"She stays on the ventilator," I commanded, my dark eyes boring into Dr. Vane's soul. "We have the funds. My father's estate account is fully funded. You keep every single machine running."

Dr. Vane pulled back slightly, his expression hardening behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "This is not simply a matter of money, Mr. Sokolov. The decision has been evaluated at the highest level. Her organs are beginning to fail. We will be discontinuing the life support systems at midnight."

At the highest level.

That single phrase set off every alarm bell inside my head. Hospitals did not dictate terms to wealthy private patients like this unless external pressure was being applied from above.

"Get out," I said softly.

"Nikolai—" Dr. Vane started.

"I said get the fuck out of my mother's room," I growled, my voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying rumble that made both administrators step back toward the door in sudden fear.

Dr. Vane gripped his tablet tightly, glaring at me for a second before turning on his heel. "We will return at midnight to finalize the paperwork," he said coldly before stepping out into the hallway, the administrators rushing out behind him.

Nicholas slammed his fist against the wall in frustration. "Why are you doing this, Nikolai? Why are you fighting the doctors? He is right! She is gone!"

"Shut up, Nicholas," I said quietly, reaching into my jacket pocket and pulling out a small, custom-built signal receiver I had assembled in my university lab. "Sit down and shut your mouth."

Nicholas blinked, stunned by my tone, but he sat back down in the chair.

I walked over to the heavy door, locking it from the inside. Then, I pulled a small metallic listening bug from my pocket and attached it directly to the glass panel facing the chief doctor's corner office down the hall. I plugged the receiver into my earpiece, tuning the frequency to pick up the audio vibrations from the doctor's office window.

Static buzzed in my ear for three seconds before clear, crisp audio cut through the line.

"...he is refusing to sign the release forms," Dr. Vane’s voice came through the receiver, speaking to someone on a secure line.

"It does not matter what the boy wants, Doctor," a dark, cold voice replied over the doctor's phone speaker. The voice was deep, disciplined, and distinctly military. "Juliana Sokolov cannot be allowed to regain consciousness under any circumstances. If her husband leaked the classified orbital launch data to her before he took off, that information dies in that room."

"The twin son, Nikolai, is being extremely aggressive," Dr. Vane noted, his voice laced with anxiety. "He is monitoring every dosage."

"Increase the potassium chloride drip at midnight," the cold voice ordered flatly. "Disregard the sons. Make it look like a natural cardiac arrest caused by the brain injury. The agency will handle the death certificate and clear the hospital records by morning. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Dr. Vane replied. "It will be done."

The call disconnected with a sharp click.

I stood frozen beside the door, my hand slowly pulling the earpiece out of my ear. The blood inside my veins turned into pure, concentrated ice.

It wasn't a medical tragedy. It was an assassination order. Our father hadn't just vanished; he had been targeted by his own agency, and now they were coming to execute our mother to bury the truth forever.

I turned around slowly to face my twin brother.

Nicholas was looking up at me, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. "Nikolai? What did they say? Why do you look like that?"

I walked over to my mother's bed, gently taking her cold, frail hand into my broad palm. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth practically ground together, a dark, lethal fire igniting deep within my soul.

"The doctors aren't trying to save her, Nicholas," I whispered, my voice chillingly calm as I looked across her sleeping form at my identical twin. "They are planning to murder her tonight."