Chapter 40 39
Darius’ POV
I didn’t bother driving into the office parking lot. Honestly, I just wanted to get this over with. Aunt Ronnie’s death still didn’t sit right with me. A “heart attack”? It didn’t feel like her. She was strong, healthy, always jogging around the estate like she was twenty again.
Mom had said she had one once, but still.
I was growing impatient in this car. Sam was taking forever, as usual. When I finally saw him coming, I wasn’t surprised to see Kimberly beside him. They were walking closely. He had that ridiculous grin plastered on his face, looking like he’d just won the lottery.
I sighed. “Finally,” I muttered under my breath as they approached.
Sam opened the passenger door with that same grin. “I’m here!”
“Took you long enough,” I said flatly, glancing past him at Kimberly. “And where’s Kim off to?”
“Oh, she’s just seeing me off. Wanted to walk me here.” He scratched the back of his neck. “She, uh, came to give me some food. I forgot my breakfast.”
I stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “You’re pathetic.”
He just chuckled. “Maybe.” He leaned over and waved at Kimberly, who waved at both of us.
“Bye, you two!” she called.
“Bye,” Sam said cheerfully, while I gave her a polite nod before starting the engine.
“So, off to the hospital?” Sam asked as he buckled in.
“Yeah,” I replied quietly.
“What hospital was it again?”
“Blue vine Hospital.”
“Right,” he said with a sigh, leaning back in his seat. “Maybe once we talk to the doctor, we’ll understand what really happened. I still can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” I said.
Aunt Ronnie deserved better than vague explanations and half-hearted condolences.
After about 20 minutes, I pulled the car to a stop in front of Blue vine Hospital. Sam got out beside me, and together we walked through the glass doors and straight to the reception desk.
A nurse was sitting behind the counter, tapping lightly on the keyboard.
“Good morning,” I said, resting my palms on the counter. “I’m Darius Dovenia. I’m here to make inquiries about a patient—Ronnie Dues. She was admitted here, and I was told she passed away.”
The nurse looked up immediately. “Oh, good morning, sir. Please hold on a moment.”
Her fingers began clicking across the keyboard again as she searched through the database.
After a few seconds, she nodded softly. “Yes… Ronnie Dues. She was admitted here two weeks ago and passed away the following morning. Cause of death listed as cardiac arrest.”
Sam glanced at me but said nothing.
The nurse continued, “Her attending physician was Dr. Reynolds. He’s on shift this morning. Would you like to speak with him?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’d like to speak with him.”
“Of course. Give me a minute.”
She reached for the landline and dialed a number. “Hello, Doctor? Two men are here to see you…Mr. Darius Slovenia, about the passing of a patient, Ronnie Dues… “
She trailed off, nodding at whatever the other person was saying. “Yes, sir. I’ll send them over.”
She hung up and looked back at me. “He said you can come to his office. I’ll have someone take you there.”
Another nurse came around the counter with polite smile on her face. “This way, sir.”
Sam and I followed her down the hallway.
When we arrived at the office, a man who looked to be in his fifties sat behind the desk, a few streaks of gray running through his hair. The nameplate on his desk read Dr. Reynolds.
“Oh, Mr. Darius, Mr. Samuel” he said, standing up slightly.
I recognized him immediately. We’d spoken a few times before, and he had come to our house a couple of times when Mom was unwell.
“Dr. Reynolds,” I said, stepping forward. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too,” he replied warmly. “Please, have a seat.”
Sam and I sat across from him, and the doctor leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk.
“So,” he began, “you’re here to make inquiries about the passing of Aunt Ronnie?”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s why we’re here.”
He exhaled softly, flipping open a thin brown file in front of him. “Well, according to the reports, she suffered a massive cardiac arrest. The autopsy showed signs of myocardial infarction — heart tissue damage consistent with stress or blockage.”
I frowned. “That sounds serious. But she wasn’t one to have heart problems.”
Dr. Reynolds paused for a moment, his gaze falling back to the file before he spoke again. “Sometimes it doesn’t show until it’s too late,” he said gently.
Silence settled between us for a few seconds.
Finally, I spoke again. “Okay… so where is her body?”
The doctor looked up from the file. “Her body was transferred to the morgue downstairs,” he said, tapping his pen lightly against the folder. “You can sign the release form if you plan to make arrangements.”
I nodded slowly. “And the autopsy… can I see the report?”
“It’s… still being processed for final archiving,” he said carefully. “But I can give you a summary copy. It confirms cardiac arrest, no external trauma, and traces of elevated catecholamines. That's stress hormones.”
“Stress hormones?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes. “Was she under any stress?”
“Not that we could tell,” he said and then looked up at me. “She’s in the hospital morgue, downstairs. If you’d like, I can have one of the nurses take you there to see her.”
I nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Of course,” he said, closing the file. “And Darius… I’m really sorry for your loss. She was a wonderful woman.”
I swallowed hard and nodded again.
The nurse led us down a quiet corridor, her shoes clicking softly. The air grew colder the farther we went. By the time we reached the double metal doors, I could already feel the chill sinking through my suit.
Inside, the morgue was exactly what I expected—cold, sterile, and eerily quiet. Fluorescent lights hung overhead, rows of refrigerated drawers lined the walls, each one labeled with a small white tag.
“This way,” the nurse said, leading us toward one of the drawers. She stopped in front of it, her hand resting on the handle. “This is the patient.”
Her tone was calm. I stared at the tag attached to the drawer. Ronnie Dues. My jaw clenched.
“I’d like to see her face,” I said quietly.