All Chapters of In the Wake of Truth: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

(Dr. Stephanie’s POV)The hospital doors slid open and I surged forward—coat billowing at my sides, heels slicing across the polished floor in brisk, staccato strides. Then I saw him. Nathan. Slumped between the paramedics, his skin pale, his posture sagging as if something vital had quietly unraveled inside him. His head hung slightly to the left, like a marionette whose strings had been carelessly severed—and for a brief, jarring second, I forgot how to breathe properly.“Nurse Juliet,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the corridor as I closed the distance to the gurney. “Get him to the observatory suite—Room 6. Immediately.”“Yes, Doctor!” she answered, already moving into position, her hands tightening around the stretcher as we surged forward.What followed was a practiced flurry—doors swinging open, machines trailing close behind, the soft whir of wheels and clipped footsteps echoing through sterile halls. The familiar scent of antiseptics and metal curled into my lungs as we

(Nathan’s POV)The soft beep of the cardiac monitor had faded into the background—a consistent, dull rhythm that barely drew my attention. I blinked up at the ceiling, its harsh white glow unfamiliar, too clean. The whole room felt distant, sterile, like I wasn’t invited here. Neither did the fog still sitting in my head.I turned to the side and reached for my phone on the tray nearby.4:07 p.m.I’d been out for over two and a half hours—rare for someone like me, especially in the middle of the day. Sleep and I weren’t exactly close. It had to be whatever mild drug Dr. Stephanie added to the IV. Subtle, but strong enough to drag me under. I could still feel the aftereffects—my limbs a little sluggish, my heartbeat steady but distant, like I hadn’t fully caught up with myself yet.Still, that strange pocket of awkwardness replayed in my mind—the moment Stephanie stepped aside to speak with Julia on the phone. I hadn’t caught much of the conversation—just the quiet click of the call co

(Nathan’s POV)I woke earlier than usual.Exactly thirty minutes before my alarm could scream its insistence into the silence. The gentle blue light of a beautiful morning streamed in through the half-slit blinds, dust dancing faintly in its path.But my thoughts were already on the day ahead, moving faster than my body could catch up. There was no time for snoozing or contemplation.A stack of files waited for me at the office—contracts that needed review, and signatures to scrawl across documents that could make or undo a month’s worth of strategic progress. After yesterday, I couldn’t afford another crack in the foundation.I sat up, leaned forward, elbows on knees. Ran a hand over my face.And then my phone buzzed beside me.Desmond.I answered, voice gravelly from sleep. “Morning.”“Sir,” he said, tone brisk but laced with concern, “I just wanted to check in. How’re you feeling this morning?”“Better.” I paused. “What’s the update?”He didn’t need clarification. “I’ve carried out

(Andrew’s POV)Andrew Dole’s Office BuildingFrom my seat behind the desk—monolithic teak, carved less to impress than to command, older than most of the men who pretended to respect it—I watched the skyline unfurl like a mural beyond the wall of glass, noiseless, unending, and utterly indifferent.The city looked defanged from this height—its ambition reduced to a scatter of obedient lights. But this view wasn’t meant for wonder. It was a perimeter—wide, clear, a reminder of how far the fall could be if I ever slipped.This was my office. Mine by grind, by grit, by the blood-soaked steps no one dared trace. And everything about it had been sharpened since the last breach.The renovations after the kidnapping had gutted the floor. What was once a modern marvel had been turned inside out—rewired, reinforced, reimagined.Walls had been torn down and rebuilt with ballistic fiber panels sandwiched beneath the luxury veneer. The marble tiling now hid pressure sensors.The overhead lights, d

(Jane’s POV)The plane landed with a soft thud, and I remained motionless for several seconds. New York welcomed us without ceremony, with a low cloud overhead and the worn glitter of a metropolis too seasoned to dazzle anyone.The runway lights flickered through the haze outside the window, like tired eyes that refused to close. I exhaled softly, unbuckled my seatbelt, and moved from my seat.Dorris, who had been quietly engaged in her tablet, stood beside me, rubbing her eyes and smiling tiredly.“I’m glad we are back in New York.” She said.I didn’t respond—not because I wasn’t relieved to be back, but because whatever victory was meant to come from Chicago had slipped right through my fingers.The terminal was a blur of tired business travelers and a bit of noisy escalators. We moved in unison, retrieving our bags with practiced efficiency.As usual, Dorris moved to carry all my bags, but I stopped her with a quiet look. “Only what you can manage,” I said. Her faded folder was tuc