Chapter 3 - Hospital Secrets and the Shadows of Betrayal
Within eight minutes, the quiet neighborhood of Paradise Valley was pierced by the flashing red lights and wailing sirens of two emergency vehicles. Paramedics stormed into the master bedroom with leather snake tongs and a heavy-duty containment box, while two Paradise Valley police officers stood guard in the hallway.
Edgar was loaded onto a gurney, his face pale gray, sweat pouring off his forehead as he dry-heaved into an oxygen mask. The rattlesnake venom, accelerated by the heavy alcohol content in his bloodstream, was working through his body with devastating speed.
Kristina was weeping hysterically, clutching Edgar’s limp hand as they wheeled him into the elevator. "Save him! You have to save my boy! It was an accident! It was supposed to be a wild snake from the desert!"
Nora followed closely behind in her SUV, her mind operating with cold, corporate precision. She didn't shed a single tear. The man she had supported, loved, and financed for ten years was fading fast, but the veil of deceit had been lifted—and Nora wanted answers.
At Paradise Valley Hospital, Edgar was rushed into the Intensive Care Unit for emergency antivenom treatment. Nora stood in the sterile white waiting room, her hands folded over her chest. Kristina was pacing back and forth, muttering prayers, casting terrified glances at Nora every few seconds.
"You knew," Kristina suddenly hissed, whirling around to face Nora, her eyes wild. "You knew the snake was in the bed! You put him in there on purpose!"
"Careful, Kristina," Nora said quietly, leaning in so only the older woman could hear. "The police officers sitting in that corner are taking notes. If you want to explain to them why a deadly diamondback rattlesnake was placed neatly inside my duvet under two goose-feather pillows, go right ahead."
Kristina swallowed hard, her mouth shutting instantly as panic seized her throat.
Before another word could be spoken, the automatic doors of the ER waiting room slid open. A young woman in her late twenties rushed in, her hair disheveled, holding the hand of a four-year-old boy with dark curls and Edgar’s distinct hazel eyes.
"Where is he?!" the woman cried out, her eyes searching the room frantically. "Where is Edgar Finch?!"
Kristina’s eyes widened in horror. "Heather! What are you doing here?! Get out!"
The woman ignored Kristina and ran straight toward the desk nurse. "I'm Heather Perkinson! I'm Edgar’s fiancée! Is he okay? Someone called me from his phone!"
Nora felt a chill run down her spine, but her face remained a mask of iron stone. She stepped forward, looking down at the little boy who looked so remarkably like the husband currently fighting for his life in the ICU.
"Fiancée?" Nora asked softly, her voice dripping with lethal quietness.
Heather turned, looking at Nora’s tailor-made blazer, her expensive diamond watch, and her commanding presence. She blinked, confused. "Who are you?"
"I'm Nora Preston," Nora said, stepping closer. "Edgar’s wife of ten years. The woman whose money pays for your clothes, your rent, and the car you drove here in."
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Heather’s face turned ghostly white. She took a step back, her hand tightening around her son's small fingers. "Wife? No... Edgar told me... he told me his wife was a bitter, crazy business associate who refused to sign divorce papers because she was dying of heart failure!"
Nora let out a single, bitter laugh. "Heart failure? I run a hundred-million-dollar distribution firm, sweetie. My heart is perfectly fine. But your fiancé's leg certainly isn't."
