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Chapter 765:
Easton closed his laptop and frowned. “Your lung infection is not under control yet. Leaving now is tantamount to suicide p>
June threw back the covers and forced herself out of bed, wincing at the sharp pain in her ankle. The sudden movement caused blood to rush back up the IV line in her hand, turning the clear tubing bright red.
She stared at him, her jaw set. “The FBI is raiding Beasley Manor tomorrow. I have to finish the offshore fund transfers tonight. The hospital network isn’t secure p>
Easton looked at her trembling shoulders and understood that once June had made up her mind, no medical warning in the world would change it. He exhaled in quiet defeat and stepped forward, gently stopping her from pulling out the IV needle herself.
“I’ll arrange for a private doctor to be on call at the apartment,” he said. “Wait here. I’ll get the discharge papers p>
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He walked to the nurses’ station and spoke in the measured, authoritative tone he reserved for courtrooms, demanding the on-duty nurse prepare an Against Medical Advice waiver immediately. The nurse, visibly intimidated, pulled up the forms on her computer and called the attending physician.
At that exact moment, the elevator doors burst open. Several paramedics rushed out pushing a gurney carrying an elderly woman who had been admitted with a sudden cardiac event. The ER director shouted orders, directing them to the recently vacated VIP 2 ward and calling for a standard anti-inflammatory IV drip.
The nurse, already flustered from dealing with Easton, hurried into the medication room to retrieve the new patient’s IV bag. The packaging for the standard anti-inflammatory was identical across both VIP suites. She grabbed the bag labeled June Erickson — VIP 1 by mistake.
Easton returned to the ward with the signed waiver. He carefully removed the IV needle from June’s hand and pressed a cotton swab to the puncture site. He wrapped her in his heavy cashmere coat and, steering clear of Cole—who was still on his call at the far end of the corridor—took the private elevator down to the underground parking garage.
As June’s car pulled out of the hospital, the nurse in VIP 2 hung the contaminated IV bag on the stand. The clear liquid began its slow journey down the silicone tubing, into the elderly woman’s veins.
Less than three minutes later, the woman’s face turned ashen. She gasped for air, making a terrible sound deep in her throat, and clawed at the sheets. The heart monitor erupted in a shrill alarm, her vital signs plummeting in unison. Large red hives broke out across her skin almost instantly.
“Anaphylactic shock! Code Blue!” the nurse screamed, slamming the emergency call button.
The entire VIP floor descended into chaos. Doctors and nurses flooded into VIP 2, pushing defibrillators and crash carts through the doorway.
Cole had just hung up his international call when he heard the alarm. His heart seized. His first thought—his only thought—was June.
He ran down the corridor and kicked open the door to VIP 1.