Too Late, Mr. Johnston: She Is Gone

Kara stared at her reflection in the dirty mirror of the coffee shop bathroom,her skin looked translucent. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the send button on the disposable burner phone. The encrypted data packet vanished from the screen, on its way to the client who knew her only as The Ghost.

A sharp cramp twisted in her lower abdomen, it wasn't a normal ache, it felt like a serrated knife being dragged through her insides.The phone slipped into the sink, Kara gasped, gripping the edge of the porcelain sink so hard her knuckles turned white.

Then she felt it, a warm, wet sensation sliding down her inner thigh.

Kara looked down.

On the cracked beige tiles, a drop of bright red blood splattered, then another, then a stream.

She stumbled backward, colliding with a woman who was just walking in, the woman screamed.

The edges of Kara vision turned black, she fell. The last thing she saw was her own hand, pale and shaking, reaching out across the floor as a pool of red expanded around it.

The sounds of the emergency room were a symphony of chaos, Beeping monitors. The squeak of rubber soles on linoleum. Voices shouting medical jargon that Kara couldn't process.

She was on a gurney, the lights overhead were blinding.

Dr. Evans was there. She recognized him from her previous secret visits. He looked grim, was shouting orders at a nurse who was trying to find a vein in Kara's bruised arm.

Kara grabbed the doctor's sleeve.

"My baby," she whispered. "Is the baby okay?"

Dr. Evans didn't look at her, he looked at the monitor, his voice was fast, clipped.

"Acute complications from the leukemia, we have to terminate the pregnancy immediately. We have to do a D and C right now or you are going to bleed out."

Kara shook her head, tears mixed with the cold sweat on her temples. "No. Please. Save him."

"We don't have a choice, Kara. You are dying."

The doctor looked at the nurse. "Get the consent forms, we need a signature, or get the husband. Is the husband here?"

Kara's hand fell from his sleeve, she nodded weakly. The nurse shoved a phone into her hand, It was her personal phone.

She dialed the number that was pinned to the top of her contacts list. The number she was never supposed to call during business hours.

Davin.

The conference room at Johnston Global was silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning. Davin Johnston sat at the head of the long mahogany table, the acquisition team was droning on about quarterly projections.

His personal phone vibrated against the polished wood.

He glanced down. The name on the screen made his jaw tighten. Kara.

He reached out to decline the call. Then he remembered his grandfather's voice from yesterday. Be nice to her, Davin. She's family.

Davin let out a short, annoyed breath and picked up the phone.

"What is it, Kara?"

"Davin." Her voice was wet, broken. "I'm at the hospital. The baby... please, I need you to sign..."

Davin froze, his eyes flicked to the end of the table. Alyse was sitting there, ostensibly taking notes for the meeting, though she was mostly just twirling a gold pen. She looked up, catching his eye.

She mouthed the words: Is she asking for money again?

Davin remembered the conversation he had with Alyse last night. Alyse had warned him, she said Kara was desperate, that she would invent a pregnancy scare to lock down her share of the trust fund before the fiscal year ended.

A cold sneer curled Davin's lip.

"Kara," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You really have no bottom, do you? You're lying about a child to squeeze cash out of me?"

"Davin, please!" Kara screamed on the other end.

"If you want to get rid of it, that's your choice," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Don't try to pin this on me as leverage. I'm in a meeting."

He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the red icon. He tossed the device onto the table. It landed with a loud clatter.

The room was dead silent. Every executive was staring at him.

"Continue," Davin said, leaning back in his leather chair.

The dial tone buzzed in Kara's ear.

She let the phone slide from her fingers. It hit the floor.

The monitor above her head let out a long, high-pitched whine.

"BP is crashing!" Dr. Evans yelled. "Forget the husband! We're losing her! Get her to the OR now!"

The gurney began to move. The ceiling tiles rushed past in a blur. Kara felt the cold creeping up her legs, settling in her chest. She closed her eyes. A single tear leaked out, hot against her freezing skin.

Davin, she thought, as the darkness swallowed her whole. You just killed us.

Kara woke up to the smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic hum of a machine. Her body felt hollow. It wasn't just the physical emptiness in her womb; it was a spiritual vacuum, as if someone had reached inside and scooped out her soul.

She blinked, her eyelids heavy. The room was dim. There was a silhouette sitting in the chair next to her bed.

A spark of pathetic hope flared in her chest.

"Davin?" she rasped.

The figure moved. A hand covered hers. It was warm, calloused, gentle.

"It's me, Kara. It's Julian."

The hope died instantly, replaced by a crushing wave of disappointment. Her vision cleared. Julian Vance, her grandfather's nurse, was looking down at her with eyes full of worry.

"He didn't come, did he?" Kara asked. She pulled her hand away and turned her head toward the window.

Julian sighed. He poured a cup of water from a plastic pitcher. "The hospital called your grandfather as your emergency contact. He couldn't move, obviously. So he sent me."

Kara stared at the blinds. "The baby is gone, Julian."

"I know."

Julian adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. His gaze drifted to the metal chart holder at the foot of the bed. The top sheet was visible. Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia.

He stiffened. Kara saw his eyes widen. She reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't tell anyone," she hissed. "Especially my grandfather If he knows I'm sick, he'll give up. He lives for me."

Julian looked angry. His jaw worked. "You need treatment, Kara. Real treatment. Not just hiding it. The money... I can help."

He stopped himself. He was supposed to be a nurse on a salary. He couldn't explain how he had access to millions.

"It's no use," Kara said, closing her eyes. "I just want to make sure Grandpa is safe before I go."

Davin walked down the hospital corridor. He had left the gala early. Something about the way Kara had screamed on the phone had stuck in his gut like a fishbone.

He told himself he was just coming to verify her lie. To prove she was faking it.

He reached the door to Room 304. It was slightly ajar.

Through the gap, he saw her. She looked small in the hospital bed. And leaning over her, dangerously close, was a man. A man in cheap scrubs. The man was tucking a strand of hair behind Kara's ear.

Davin felt a surge of heat rush up his neck. It was irrational, violent jealousy.

He slammed the door open. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Kara jumped. Julian spun around, instinctively stepping between the bed and the door.

Davin stopped at the foot of the bed. "So this is it?" Davin sneered. "This is why you were so desperate to get rid of my child? To make room for the help?"

Kara sat up, wincing as the stitches in her abdomen pulled. Her face flushed with anger.

"You are a monster, Davin."

Julian took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "You have no idea what she's been through today."

Davin didn't even look at Julian. He kept his eyes locked on Kara. "Get out of my way, orderly."

He reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a checkbook. He scribbled a number, ripped the paper out, and threw it onto the bed. It fluttered down and landed on Kara's lap.

"Here. This is for your 'medical expenses,'" Davin said, the sarcasm dripping from his words. "Or pay your boyfriend. I don't care. Just stop calling me."

Kara looked at the check. Fifty thousand dollars. The price of her trauma.

She picked it up. Her fingers were shaking, not from fear, but from rage. She tore the check in half. Then in half again. She threw the confetti at him.

"Get out," she said. Her voice was quiet, deadly.

Davin felt a flicker of unease. He had never seen her look at him like that. Usually, her eyes were pleading, soft. Now they were dead.

He masked his discomfort with cruelty.

"Fine," he said, turning on his heel. "But don't expect me to keep paying for that old man's private suite if you're going to act like this."

He walked out.

Julian moved to chase him, but Kara started coughing. It was a wet, hacking sound. She covered her mouth with a tissue. When she pulled it away, it was spotted with red.

Julian froze. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her up.

"Take me home, Julian," she whispered, leaning her head against his chest. "I don't want to die in this room."

The next morning, Kara forced herself to sit up. Her body screamed in protest, every muscle aching as if she had run a marathon, but her mind was clear. Coldly, brutally clear.

Julian helped her into a wheelchair. He wanted her to stay, but she refused. Staying meant waiting for Davin to pull the plug on her grandfather's care.

She opened her old laptop on the tray table. Her fingers flew across the keys, bypassing the hospital's firewall to access a secure Swiss server. She needed liquidity.

A red box popped up on the screen: ACCOUNT FROZEN. AUTHORIZATION REVOKED.

Kara slammed the laptop shut. Davin. He was thorough. He had locked down every joint asset, every allowance account.

She had to sever the tie. She picked up her phone and dialed a number she had memorized years ago. She used a voice modulator app.

"I need a draft drawn up immediately," she said into the receiver. "Standard divorce filing. Irreconcilable differences."

Two hours later, Kara walked into the study at Johnston Manor. She was wearing a thick sweater to hide how much weight she had lost, but she still looked like a ghost haunting her own house.

Davin was behind his massive oak desk, signing documents. He didn't look up when she entered.

"Back so soon?" he asked. "Run out of money for the hotel room?"

Kara walked to the desk and slapped a manila folder onto the wood.

"Sign it," she said.

Davin paused. He put his pen down and looked at the folder. He flipped it open. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

He laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound.

"You want a divorce?" he asked, standing up. He walked around the desk, closing the distance between them. He towered over her, radiating power and expensive cologne.

"I want my mother's dowry back," Kara said, staring at his tie knot because she couldn't bear to look in his eyes. "The Higgins shares. That's all I want."

Davin grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up. His fingers dug into her jaw.

"You think you can just walk away? You begged to marry me, remember? You and your criminal father."

"I'm begging you to let me go," Kara said.

Davin's eyes darkened. He released her chin with a shove. He walked back to a filing cabinet and pulled out a thick document. He threw it on the desk next to her divorce papers.

"Read the post-nuptial agreement, Kara. Specifically, the fidelity and heir clauses."

He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms.

"You want out? Fine. Pay the fifty million dollar breach of contract fee. Or..."

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her stomach.

"Give me an heir. You owe me a son to replace the reputation your mother destroyed."

Kara felt bile rise in her throat. The cruelty was breathtaking.

"You're insane," she whispered. "I just lost a baby yesterday."

Davin waved his hand dismissively. "You got rid of a problem. Don't pretend it was anything else."

Kara stepped back. She realized then that there was no negotiating with him. He didn't see her as a human. He saw her as an asset that was underperforming.

She opened her mouth to threaten him. To tell him she knew about the tax evasion scheme in his Cayman subsidiaries. She could burn his company to the ground with three keystrokes. But she stopped. Any move she made as The Ghost would be traced back to the manor's network. Davin's IT team was military-grade; they'd be on her in seconds. It would expose everything and put her grandfather in even more danger.

A knock at the door interrupted her.

Charles, Davin's assistant, poked his head in. He looked uncomfortable.

"Sir, the nursing home is on line one. They're asking about the payment for Arthur Higgins."

Davin didn't break eye contact with Kara.

"Tell them to stop all services," he said calmly. "Until my wife learns how to sign the correct papers."

Kara felt the blood drain from her face. Her leverage was gone. If she fought him, Arthur would die.

She looked at the divorce papers, then at Davin. Her shoulders slumped.

"You win," she whispered.

Davin smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"I always do. Now get out of my sight."