Around eleven, he brought me warm apple cider from the hospitality station.
I watched him stir it.
Then I saw something disappear from his fingers into the cup.
A crushed tablet.
He thought my eyes were closed.
They weren’t.
I waited until he went to speak with a nurse, carried the cup into the bathroom, poured it down the sink, rinsed the glass, and climbed back into bed.
When he returned, he looked pleased to see the empty cup.
Twenty minutes later, I pretended to be asleep.
Grant checked me twice.
He waved his hand in front of my face.
Then he left the bedroom portion of the private suite and entered the small adjoining sitting room.
A few minutes later, another man arrived.
Dr. Ross.
Their voices were low.
But the door between the rooms was not completely closed.
At first, I could not understand what they were discussing.
Then Grant said:
“Six hundred thousand. You’ll never have another financial problem again.”
My entire body went cold.
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