Chapter 52 52
Midnight crept in quietly.
The hospital lights glowed pale against the sky, and Lucas sat on the steps outside, elbows on his knees,
suit jacket discarded beside him. He hadn’t moved in hours.
Cars passed. Nurses changed shifts. The world kept going.
He didn’t.
Two black SUVs pulled up silently at the curb.
“Sir,” one of his guards said gently, stepping closer. “You may want to go home. The ward won’t reopen until morning.”
Lucas didn’t look up.
Another guard cleared his throat. “We can keep watch here. You don’t need to—”
“I’m fine,” Lucas said hoarsely.
His voice surprised even him.
The guard hesitated. “Sir… you haven’t slept. You skipped your medication.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened. He stared at the hospital doors like they might open if he willed them to.
“She was here,” he said quietly. “I missed her by minutes.”
The guards exchanged glances.
“Who, sir?” one asked carefully.
Lucas shook his head once, fingers digging into his palms. “I don’t know.”
Then, softer and broken—“But I should.”
Silence settled again.
“Sir,” the first guard tried once more, “this isn’t safe. Let us take you home.”
Lucas finally stood.
For a moment, they thought they’d won.
Then he said, “I’ll wait.”
His eyes were bloodshot now, burning with exhaustion and obsession.
“If I go home,” he continued, voice low and steady, “I’ll lose her again. And I don’t think I can survive that.”
The guards said nothing after that.
They took their positions nearby, forming a quiet perimeter, while Lucas remained facing the hospital doors—
Morning arrived slowly.
The sky shifted from deep blue to pale gray, and the hospital grounds began to stir.
Nurses in fresh scrubs walked past with coffee cups in hand, security changed shifts, cleaners pushed carts down the corridors.
Life resumed.
Lucas, who hadn’t slept a second, straightened immediately.
The moment he saw lights flash on in the maternity records wing, he was on his feet.
“That ward,” he said sharply to his guards. “Now.”
They moved with him as the glass doors were unlocked. Staff filtered in, keycards swiping, voices low and routine—unaware that for one man, this morning held five years of answers.
Lucas stepped inside as soon as the sign flipped from CLOSED to OPEN.
“Good morning,” a clerk said politely from behind the desk.
“I’m Lucas Brooks,” he said, voice controlled but urgent. “I was here last night. I need to see the caseworker in charge of week records. Immediately.”
The clerk blinked at his expression and nodded. “One moment, sir.”
Lucas’s heart pounded as she picked up the phone.
Please, he thought. Don’t let me be too late again.
Behind the desk, doors opened, staff moved, files were retrieved.
A thick brown file was pulled from the shelf.
The nurse held it tightly to her chest as she walked toward the office at the far end of the corridor.
Before Lucas could step closer, the man in charge—middle-aged, cautious, clearly uncomfortable—raised a hand.
“Wait.”
The nurse leaned in, lowering her voice. “Sir… this file was flagged years ago.”
“Flagged how?”
“Due to personal reasons. The owner of the file requested that her identity remain confidential. She was very clear—no disclosures, no matter who asks.”
The man frowned. “Even now?”
“Yes. Especially now.”
Lucas watched them from a few steps away, jaw tight. Every instinct in him screamed that something was wrong.
The man turned, forcing a polite smile as he approached Lucas.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks,” he said calmly. “After reviewing the records, it appears the file you’re requesting was transferred years ago. There’s nothing available under the description you gave.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible. I was told there were three cases.”
“There were,” the man replied smoothly. “But none match your request anymore.”
Silence stretched.
Lucas stared at him, searching for cracks. Lies had a smell. He knew it well.
“Are you saying the woman doesn’t exist,” Lucas asked quietly, “or that you don’t want me to see her file?”
The man swallowed. “Sir, hospital policy—”
Lucas took a step closer. His presence alone shifted the air.
“Look at me,” he said. “And say that again.”
The man hesitated—just a fraction too long—then repeated, “There’s nothing more we can help you with.”
Behind him, the nurse avoided Lucas’s gaze, fingers tightening around the file as she slipped it back onto the cart and wheeled it away.
Lucas watched it disappear down the corridor.
His fists clenched.
The nurse slipped into the room and shut the door behind her—then locked it.
Her back hit the wood as she slid down, breath shaking. She dropped to her knees and fumbled for her phone, hands trembling as she dialed.
“Blair,” she whispered the moment the call connected. “Blair, listen to me.”
Blair’s voice came tight and urgent. “Did he see anything?”
“No,” the nurse said quickly. “Nothing. I stopped it. I told them the file was transferred, flagged, restricted. I compromised my position, Blair… but he didn’t get your name. He didn’t see Mave’s record. He saw nothing.”
On the other end, there was a sharp inhale—then a shaky exhale.
“That was close,” Blair murmured. “Too close. I don’t want that monster to ever find me or my son. I swear, I’m even thinking of moving out for good. Leaving the city entirely.”
The nurse hesitated. “Blair… you should’ve seen him.”
“He looked desperate,and lost” she continued softly. Just—lost. Are you sure you don’t want to give him a second chance? Maybe he’s changed.”
Blair’s voice hardened instantly. “No.”
There was a pause.
“After the pain he put me through?” Blair said, each word steady but heavy. “After that night, the way he threw me out, the way I bled alone and broke alone? No. I survived him. My son survived him. That’s where it ends.”
The nurse closed her eyes.
“He doesn’t get to rewrite the past because he suddenly feels empty,” Blair added quietly. “Some monsters don’t roar. Some smile and destroy you slowly.”
“I understand,” the nurse said. “I won’t let him near you. Or Mave. Ev
er.”
“Thank you,” Blair whispered. “You saved us.”
The call ended.
The nurse stayed on her knees for a long moment, staring at the locked door, heart pounding.