Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN IN ROOM 914By midnight, Evelyn Parker’s name was on every news channel in America.
“Billionaire Alexander Parker’s mother hospitalized after tragic fall.”
“Sources say family accident occurred inside Parker estate.”
“Wedding rumors continue despite medical emergency.”
Alexander stared at the television in the private hospital suite and felt something inside him turn to ice.
A tragic fall.
That was the first lie.
He knew there would be more.
Evelyn lay in the hospital bed, pale beneath crisp white sheets. Wires and monitors surrounded her. A bandage wrapped her temple. Her breathing came steady but shallow.
Alexander had bought hospitals. Funded research wings. Donated machines with names too long for him to remember.
None of that mattered when the woman in the bed was his mother.
Dr. Naomi Reed, the neurosurgeon on call, stood near the window with a tablet in her hand.
“She has swelling, a concussion, and several fractures,” Naomi said gently. “The next twenty-four hours are critical.”
Alexander looked at her.
“Will she wake up?”
Naomi did not lie to him. He respected that immediately.
“I don’t know yet.”
Marcus stood by the door, posture rigid, eyes red from lack of sleep.
“The police are downstairs,” he said. “They want a statement.”
Alexander did not move.
“They can wait.”
“Sir, Victoria’s lawyer has arrived at the estate.”
Alexander’s gaze lifted.
“Already?”
“Yes.”
Naomi looked between them.
“Victoria? Your fiancée?”
“Former,” Alexander said.
The word left his mouth like a blade.
Marcus continued, “Her attorney is claiming she is emotionally traumatized and being unlawfully held.”
Alexander smiled faintly.
“How unfortunate for her.”
Naomi cleared her throat.
“I know this is not my place, but if someone caused this injury, the hospital can restrict visitors. I need a list of approved people.”
Alexander turned back to his mother.
“Me. Marcus. You. No one else.”
Naomi nodded.
At that moment, Evelyn stirred.
Alexander was at her side instantly.
“Mom?”
Her eyelids trembled.
“Alexander…”
His throat closed.
“I’m here.”
She tried to lift her hand, but he caught it gently.
“Don’t move. You’re safe.”
A faint, painful sound escaped her.
“No,” she whispered. “Not safe.”
Naomi stepped forward. “Mrs. Parker, try not to speak.”
But Evelyn gripped Alexander’s fingers with surprising strength.
“Ledger,” she breathed again. “Blue… cover…”
Alexander leaned closer.
“Where is it?”
Her eyes moved beneath the lids, frantic.
“Not… Victoria…”
His blood went cold.
“What do you mean?”
Evelyn swallowed painfully.
“She didn’t… act alone.”
The monitor beeped faster.
Naomi moved in. “That’s enough.”
But Evelyn forced one more sentence.
“Your father… knew.”
Then her eyes closed.
The machines shrilled.
Alexander was pushed back as Naomi and two nurses rushed in. He stood helpless while they worked over his mother, his mind trapped on those four words.
Your father knew.
His father had been dead for twelve years.
Daniel Parker had died in a private plane crash over Colorado. Mechanical failure. Closed investigation. Alexander had buried him, inherited the company, and spent the next decade building Parker Global into an empire.
What could a dead man know?
Naomi stabilized Evelyn after several terrifying minutes.
“She needs rest,” Naomi said firmly. “No more questioning.”
Alexander nodded, though his face had gone pale.
Marcus approached quietly.
“Sir.”
Alexander turned.
Marcus held up his phone.
“We found something in the house.”
Alexander followed him into the hallway.
On Marcus’s screen was a photograph taken in Evelyn’s guest room. Her handbag had been searched. Lipstick, tissues, old receipts, and a framed picture of Alexander as a boy had been scattered across the carpet.
But the bag itself had a clean cut through the lining.
Someone had opened it after the fall.
Someone had been looking for what Evelyn brought.
“The ledger?” Alexander asked.
“Gone,” Marcus said.
Alexander looked through the glass wall at his mother’s still body.
Victoria had pushed Evelyn.
But someone else had searched her purse.
Someone else had sent lawyers before the police even finished arriving.
Someone else had tipped off reporters.
This was not rage.
This was strategy.
And Alexander understood strategy better than anyone.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He answered without speaking.
A distorted voice whispered, “Let the old woman die, Mr. Parker.”
Alexander’s grip tightened.
“Who is this?”
“Someone who knows your mother should have stayed buried in the past.”
The line went dead.
Marcus watched his face.
“What happened?”
Alexander slowly lowered the phone.
“Get every camera from every hallway, garage, elevator, and service entrance. Not copies. Originals.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And call Olivia Grant.”
Marcus blinked.
“Your criminal attorney?”
“My mother was almost murdered in my house.” Alexander looked back toward Room 914. “I’m done playing defense.”
At the far end of the hallway, a nurse pushed a cart past the elevators.
Alexander barely noticed her.
But the nurse noticed him.
She walked with her head down, hair tucked beneath a cap, shoes whispering against the floor. As she passed Room 914, her fingers slipped beneath the cart’s folded towels.
A syringe was hidden there.
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Inside the private suite, Evelyn Parker slept.
And outside her door, the woman in the nurse’s uniform smiled.
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