POV: Zara
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the silence. No city sounds. No traffic. No life. Just oppressive, suffocating quiet broken only by the occasional beep of medical equipment.
I'm in the hospital bed Jason had set up in the east wing. The morning sun streams through windows that I now realize have locks on them. Decorative locks, painted white to match the frame, but locks nonetheless.
A woman sits in a chair by the door, reading a magazine. She's middle-aged, with steel-gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and wire-rimmed glasses. She wears scrubs and sensible shoes. When she notices I'm awake, she sets down her magazine and stands.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hartley. I'm Mrs. Chen, your private nurse."
I recognize the last name. "Related to Jason's lawyer?"
Her expression doesn't change. "My husband, yes. Mr. Hartley wanted someone he could trust to oversee your care."
Of course he did. Even my medical care is compromised by Jason's web of connections.
