PART 1
“If this old man keeps breathing for another week, we are going to lose millions. I hope he stops being such a nuisance.”
Douglas Stone heard that phrase without being able to open his eyes. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor registered a slow beat to his right while a tube supplied oxygen through his nose.
From his neck down, his entire body seemed to cease to exist. He tried to move a finger, but nothing responded.
He wanted to ask where he was, yet barely any air came from his throat. Then he remembered the pouring rain, the highway toward Memphis, the brake pedal sinking without resistance, and his truck brutally crashing into the concrete wall.
He had survived, and for a few seconds, that certainty felt like enough to give him hope.
Until he recognized the voice.
Samantha Blake, the woman with whom he had shared his home for three years, was standing next to his bed.
Douglas felt a wave of relief, thinking she must have spent long nights worrying and waiting for updates from the doctors. With a desperate effort, he managed to open his eyelids slightly.
Through the blurry slit, he saw another man named Kenneth Ross.
Kenneth was his trusted legal adviser whom Douglas had hired fresh out of university, and who had eventually risen to become the general counsel of Stone Industries.
Kenneth placed a casual arm around Samantha’s waist and pulled her close. Then he kissed her.
It was not an impulsive or nervous kiss, but the calm exchange of two people completely comfortable with each other. Douglas felt something shatter inside his chest.
“The doctors say he may end up in a vegetative state,” Kenneth whispered softly. “Even if he wakes up, he will hardly ever be able to run the company again.”
Samantha let out a low giggle. “Then we need to act before his children get their own lawyers involved.”
Douglas’s children, Jason and Hannah, were from his marriage to Mary, his beloved wife who had passed away seven years ago.
“I already have several corporate moves prepared,” Kenneth explained coolly. “We will take advantage of that broad power of attorney Douglas signed months ago for the construction project in Tampa, and we will use it to transfer our main asset to a newly created company in your name.”
“By the time Jason wants to react, the asset will already be gone,” Kenneth added with a smirk.
Samantha smiled brightly. “And I have the clinic paper ready.”
She pulled a folded sheet from her handbag, which was a fake medical certificate claiming she was eight weeks pregnant with Douglas’s child.
“If he dies,” she added, “everyone will have to treat me as the mother of his last child.”
Douglas wanted to leap up and strangle them with his bare hands, but he could not move a single muscle.
Then Samantha saw a small tray containing his personal belongings, picking up an old Swiss watch with a worn leather strap.
It was the last gift Mary had given him, purchased after she sold a pair of heirloom earrings inherited from her grandmother when Douglas was starting his business in a small office in Columbus.
Samantha held it between two fingers with disgust. “Finally, I can throw this garbage away, because he was always carrying around memories of holy Mary.”
She tossed the watch toward Kenneth, who caught it effortlessly. “Keep it, because the old man will not be needing it where he is going.”
They walked out of the room, laughing together. Minutes later, Douglas’s heart monitor began to beep frantically as his pulse spiked.
A doctor rushed into the room, and Dr. Rachel Foster stabilized his vital signs before leaning over the bed.
Douglas gathered every ounce of strength he had left and opened his eyes completely.
Dr. Foster froze in place because that sharp, alert gaze did not belong to an unconscious patient.
Douglas managed to whisper in a hoarse voice. “Do not tell them I woke up.”
“Tell who?” Dr. Foster asked softly.
“Samantha and Kenneth,” Douglas gasped with pain. “They want to take everything from me, and I think they caused the crash.”
Dr. Foster observed him in silence for several long seconds before walking over to shut the door.
“I understand, Mr. Stone,” Dr. Foster said quietly. “As far as they are concerned, you are still completely unconscious.”
The following morning, Samantha returned to the hospital corridor, but she was not there to visit Douglas.
She flagged down Dr. Foster near the nursing station, pulled a thick envelope stuffed with cash from her coat, and slipped it directly into the doctor’s pocket.
“Just lower his oxygen supply tonight,” Samantha whispered. “Nobody is going to ask too many questions about a man in his condition.”
Dr. Foster looked down at the bulging envelope while Samantha smiled with supreme confidence.
“That is more money than you make in several years of work,” Samantha boasted.
The doctor slowly reached into her pocket, pulled out the cash, and dropped it right at Samantha’s feet.
“I do not bargain with human lives,” Dr. Foster said coldly.
Samantha’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by pure anger.
PART 2
“I will leave you without a job,” Samantha spat angrily. “I have powerful friends on the medical board, so you have no idea who you are dealing with.”
Dr. Foster did not raise her voice. “And you have no idea who you just tried to hire for a murder, so please leave my floor before I call security.”
Samantha snatched the envelope off the floor and marched away furiously.
Dr. Foster knew the threat was very real, so before her shift ended, she wrote an official incident report detailing the time, location, exact monetary offer, and explicit request to cut Douglas’s oxygen. She submitted the original document and kept a signed copy for herself.
That night, she stayed inside Douglas’s room to watch over him.
Around two in the morning, her personal phone rang on the nightstand.
“Hi, sweetie,” Dr. Foster answered as her professional tone softened completely.
Douglas kept his eyes closed, listening intently to her conversation.
“Mom, my back hurts really bad again,” a young girl’s voice whimpered through the speaker.
Dr. Foster bit her lip to stop herself from crying because her twelve year old daughter, Abigail, suffered from a severe spinal deformity that was worsening rapidly. Abigail required a specialized surgery that Dr. Foster simply could not afford, despite working extra shifts for months.
“We are going to get it done, my love,” Dr. Foster promised. “I swear you will walk without pain very soon.”
When she hung up, Dr. Foster silently wiped away a tear in the dark room.
Douglas realized something that left him utterly speechless, knowing this doctor had just rejected a fortune that could have paid for her daughter’s surgery instantly. She could have solved her biggest struggle by letting him die, yet she chose to save his life.
The next morning, Douglas asked her for a phone, so Dr. Foster brought him a cheap burner phone with a new prepaid card and dialed the number he whispered.
“Hello?” a voice answered on the line.
“Hank… it is me,” Douglas said quietly.
There was absolute silence on the line because Hank Palmer had served as Douglas’s chief of security for over twenty years.
“Mr. Stone, they told us you were never going to wake up,” Hank said in shock.
“That is exactly what I need them to keep believing,” Douglas replied.
Douglas explained everything that had transpired in the room, detailing the affair between Samantha and Kenneth, the fake pregnancy certificate, and the fraudulent transfer of the Tampa project.
Then he recalled a crucial memory from the day before the crash. Kenneth had insisted on taking Douglas’s truck to a specific auto shop, claiming he heard an unusual noise coming from the brakes, and Douglas had handed over the keys without giving it a second thought.
“Find that repair shop,” Douglas ordered. “Look for security cameras, bank statements, and mechanic testimonies, but keep it strictly legal because we need airtight evidence.”
Douglas then gestured toward the doctor. “And make sure you protect Dr. Foster, because Samantha tried to bribe her to end my life, and she has written documentation of it.”
Early the next morning, Hank arranged a covert transfer to a small private clinic on the outskirts of Columbus, while officially Douglas remained in an irreversible coma at the public facility.
A trusted senior nurse agreed to help maintain the cover story. When Samantha arrived the next afternoon, she received the exact news she was hoping to hear.
“His condition has deteriorated significantly,” the nurse told her solemn faced. “The chances of recovery are basically zero.”
Samantha stepped out of the hospital building, barely suppressing a triumphant smile, and called Kenneth the moment she got into her car. “It is done, so the old man is never coming back.”
“Then we start the final takeover today,” Kenneth replied smoothly.
Over the next few weeks, Samantha acted as though Douglas was already buried. She used corporate credit cards to buy designer clothes, expensive jewelry, and host a massive party at his residence, even ordering the staff to remove Mary’s portrait from the study.
“Throw that trash into the basement,” she instructed Rose, a housekeeper who had worked for the family for fifteen years. “This house belongs to me now.”
