Emily woke two days later.

Her first words were:

“Is Daniel here?”

I sat beside her bed.

“No.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Good.”

I took her hand.

“You’re safe.”

She stared at me.

“I thought I was going to die.”

“You almost did.”

She closed her eyes.

Then whispered:

“He did this.”

My heart tightened.

“Daniel?”

She nodded.

“He broke my arm.”

“Why?”

“He wanted my money.”

I remained silent.

Emily slowly began explaining.

Her father had recently died.

He left her a substantial inheritance.

Daniel had debts.

A lot of them.

He convinced Emily to sign financial documents transferring control of her trust.

When she refused, he became violent.

The fall down the stairs was not an accident.

Neither was the broken arm.

Daniel had taken her to a private clinic owned by one of his friends.

They operated on her.

Something went wrong.

Instead of admitting her to a proper hospital, they sent her home with the arm sealed inside a cast.

Then Daniel began telling everyone she was sick.

“She was going to expose him,” I said.

Emily nodded.

“He told me nobody would believe me.”

She began crying.

“He said he would have me declared mentally unstable.”

I squeezed her hand.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Emily looked at me.

“Doctor… there is something else.”

“What?”

“Before he brought me here, he told me he had already prepared everything.”

“Prepared what?”

“A story.”

She swallowed.

“He said if I died, everyone would think it was an infection caused by my own negligence.”

My blood ran cold.

Part 5 — The Hidden Camera

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