Chapter 12
560words
By some cosmic irony, they placed him in the same hospital room where my father had once lain.
Poetic justice.
When I entered his room, he lay motionless, staring vacantly at the ceiling.
The once arrogant, vibrant Dr. Winters was now just another withered patient.
At the sound of my footsteps, he slowly turned his head. Recognition dawned, and his eyes filled with hatred.
"Claire Shaw," he rasped, his voice like sandpaper. "I'm like this because of you. Happy now?"
I pulled up a chair and sat beside his bed.
"No," I said softly, shaking my head. "It's not enough. My father, my mother—that's two lives."
I leaned closer, smiling gently as if speaking to an old friend.
"Julian, do you remember? Ten years ago, the night my father died, you sat by his bed just like this. You told me, 'Sophia, don't be afraid. From now on, I'll be your family.'"
His pupils dilated in shock.
"You never imagined, did you? That the terrified little girl hiding behind you would one day personally escort you to hell."
"You vindictive bitch," he snarled, struggling futilely to sit up. "You've been plotting this all along!"
He looked like a worm pinned to a board.
Looking at his terrified face, I felt no sympathy—only a cold satisfaction.
"My father called me his little swallow. He said no matter how far swallows fly, they always return home eventually."
"So, Julian Winters, I came back."
"To put you—and my parents—to rest at last."
Something in him snapped.
He thrashed on the bed like a caged animal, making guttural sounds between screams and maniacal laughter.
"Claire Shaw, Sophia Shaw, hahaha... I should have known! HAHAHA!"
As he unraveled before me, I stood and removed one final document from my bag.
A medical examination report.
I placed it on his bedside table, my voice returning to the cool, professional tone of a medical director.
"Dr. Winters, there's one more thing I haven't mentioned."
I held the report where he could see it. "This is your annual physical from six months ago. Due to an... administrative error... I accidentally swapped someone else's results with yours."
I smiled as I patted his contorted face. "You won't hold it against me, will you, darling?"
His gaze dropped to the report.
At the bottom, in bold type, was the conclusion.
"High-density mass detected in lungs. Suspected malignant tumor, early stage. Immediate biopsy recommended."
After six months without treatment, it would be terminal by now.
He stared at those words, then slowly—very slowly—raised his eyes to mine.
In that moment, his eyes held no anger or hatred—only bone-deep terror and despair.
"You..." His finger shook uncontrollably as he pointed at me. "You devil... you monster..."
I nodded.
"Yes, I am a devil, Dr. Winters. You're only realizing this now?"
"Julian Winters, you stole everything from my father—his reputation, his work, his life. I'm merely taking back what was never yours."
"My father died because of you. My mother died because of you. Paying with your life seems fair, doesn't it?"
He stared at me, eyes bulging from their sockets.
Then blood erupted from his mouth, staining the pristine white sheets crimson.
On the cardiac monitor, the jagged line flattened instantly as a piercing alarm filled the room.
