The Message From The Dark

Mia felt cold and afraid. Her breath had become fast. She lay completely still, not trusting her voice or her body to move. She had just undergone the procedure, and every muscle was tight with anxiety about the life now growing inside her.

The man who had just closed the door was a heavy shadow, not a nurse, not Damien. He was tall, dressed in dark clothing, and carried himself with something that screamed "intruder."

“Don’t scream,” the figure repeated, his voice a low rasp that seemed too intimate. “I mean you no harm. The man took one quiet step inside, letting the door shut behind him.

I was sent by your brother, Kevin.”

“Who are you?” Mia finally managed, the sound barely a tremor. “Kevin is sedated. He’s….he’s in a coma.”

The man moved away from the door, she could finally make out his face: mid-thirties, tired eyes, a short, trimmed beard, and a deep scar on his left eyebrow. He looked more like a weary ex-soldier than a friend of her sweet,little brother.

“Kevin is a genius, Mia. And he’s fifteen. He understands systems better than most adults. He’s been minimizing the sedative dose in his IV for weeks. He’s awake, and he’s been watching the people who watch him.”

Mia listened, a desperate hope forming in her chest. Her fifteen year old maths prodigy brother, faking a coma? It was audacious and perfectly him.

“He noticed the difference between the actual hospital staff and the two men who never leave his hallway. He’s smart enough to know that a simple medical coma doesn’t need a private security detail that just stands by his door,” the man continued, his voice softer now, almost empathetic. “He realized he’s not a patient; he’s leveraged. And he knew you signed that contract to save him, which means you’re trapped.”

“He noticed they never let him have a phone, even one without internet, you stopped visiting regularly after you signed that contract. And he’s smart enough to know you wouldn't give up on him except you were forced.

“Kevin knows you’re in trouble. He knew he couldn’t talk, and he knew he couldn’t write, but he found a way to send a message. He’s been communicating with me.”

“How?” Mia’s brow furrowed.

“On his hospital tray. He would press his fingers hard into the foam trays, leaving patterns when the nurses weren’t looking.

It took me weeks to figure it out, but he was repeating my name and a message for you. I’m Leo. I’m a technician who maintains the hospital’s security and communications systems.

The man pulled a small, silver object from his pocket, a cheap, tarnished locket, the kind sold at boardwalk carnivals.

“He told me to give you this,” the man said, kneeling by the bed. “He said to tell you: ‘Remember the canoe, Skipper.’ He said you’d know it’s him.”

Tears instantly flooded Mia’s eyes. Skipper. The canoe. It was the night they had paddled too far out on the lake, scared and alone, and Kevin had started singing absurd camp songs until a passing boat rescued them. It was their secret code for ‘we’re in trouble, but we’ll get through it.’

“What does he want me to do?” she whispered.

Leo’s eyes were serious. “Victoria Cross is not infertile. Her entire medical history, which she provided to your lawyer, is fabricated. She had a miscarriage three months ago and covered it up.

She needs a baby, but she needs Damien’s baby, and she needs to maintain the illusion that she can’t carry one herself, to keep Damien tied to her. Kevin said he overheard them talking in the hospital when they thought he was in a coma.

Mia felt a cold run through her spine. The implantation procedure suddenly felt sinister. The single life that might be inside her was now a pawn in a game.

“Why didn't the doctor tell me?”

“Because he’s paid,” Leo stated simply.

Victoria runs this whole operation like a corporate hostile takeover. She controls the doctors, the lawyers, and now she controls your brother’s medical status.

Leo rose and pointed to the wall behind the heavy bedside table. “You have thirty minutes before the security loop I initiated resets. After that, they’ll notice I was here, or they’ll notice you’re gone. I stashed a few things here: a burner phone, cash, and a small backpack. The money is enough to get you away, but you can’t leave yet.”

He pulled a small, folded piece of paper, a rough floor plan from his pocket. “Kevin’s last message was this: Victoria’s contract is a lie. The entire story she spun to your lawyer, the desperation, the need for a surrogate is a carefully crafted deception, designed to force Damien into this deal and maintain control over his life.”

He pointed to a large X marked in red ink on the map. “Victoria has a separate, highly private study adjoining her main closet.

There is a locked metal box hidden in the floor safe. Inside that box are physical records not digital of all her real medical and financial transactions. The box contains the proof that the contract is invalid because it was based on fraud.”

The information settled in Mia's mind. The single implanted embryo was a pawn in a terrifying corporate-level fraud.We can’t move him until you break the legal contract. I’ve done all I can from the outside. You have to do the rest from the inside.”

“You just did the implantation. You can’t be running all over the country. You need to get the records, get them to a lawyer, and then get to a safe house.

The dinner party is tomorrow night. Victoria will be distracted.

That’s your window.”

He moved back toward the door, his movements efficient and urgent. “They only care about the baby right now. Use the house’s security against them. Stay off the main stairwells.

There’s a dumbwaiter shaft used for laundry and small deliveries, accessible through the back of the master bathroom closet. It runs down to the laundry room in the basement. From the basement, you can reach Victoria’s study through the old wine cellar tunnel. It’s tight, dirty, and slow, but it’s blind to their internal cameras.”

He paused at the door, his eyes dark. “This house is a cage, Mia. But cages have weak points. Find the book, get the proof, and then run. Don’t trust anyone. Not the nurses, not the guards. And especially not the billionaire.”

He slipped into the dark hallway, closing the door as silently as he had entered.

Mia didn’t wait. She scrambled out of the bed, the small locket warm in her palm. The truth of Victoria’s fraud was a horrifying weight, confirming every instinct she had felt about the cold, possessive wife.

She moved to the bed and quickly snatched the burner phone and the clothes. Before she could finish checking the backpack, the heavy oak door was violently thrown open.

Mia froze, dropping the bag.

The door burst open.

It was Damien.

He stood in the doorway, barefoot, in a pair of dark silk pajama pants, his chest bare. His expression was a sudden, violent mix of disbelief and fury. He wasn't looking at the bed or the bag. He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was fixed, burning, on the small, open panel in the wall where Leo had hidden the supplies.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, his voice a guttural question that was also an accusation. He moved into the room, his eyes narrow and dangerous, fixing on Mia.

Mia pressed her back against the bureau, her mind racing for a lie, an explanation, anything.

“Who was just in here, Mia?” he demanded, his hand slamming against the wall near the hidden compartment. “Tell me who you are talking to, or I swear to God, you will never see your brother again.”