Chapter 3: The Lie Behind the Accident
789 Words
Seraphina’s gaze locked onto the glowing phone screen, every word of the text message burning itself into her memory.
The original brake failure report.
Her chest heaved as her breathing grew shallow. Three years ago, she had been driving home late at night on a quiet mountain road when her brakes suddenly failed on a sharp turn. Her car had plunged down the embankment, flipping twice before slamming into a ravine. When she finally woke up in the ICU weeks later, Adrian was sitting by her bed, weeping quietly as he told her that her eyesight was gone.
He had called it a tragic, unavoidable mechanical failure. He had held her hand while she sobbed, swearing he would hunt down the car manufacturer for negligence.
It had all been a lie.
The phone vibrated again in her hand. The same encrypted caller was ringing.
Seraphina quickly tapped the side button to silence the ringer. She didn't answer. Instead, she lifted her own small, outdated phone from her purse on the nightstand and used its camera to take a clear, high-resolution photo of the screen, capturing both the incoming call number and the text message.
Just as she slid Adrian’s phone back behind the tissue box, the heavy wooden door pushed open.
Seraphina instantly dropped her shoulders, closed her eyes, and let her chin tilt slightly downward, slipping back into the role of a blind, disoriented patient.
"Mrs. Blackwood?"
It wasn't Adrian. It was Dr. Evans. His shoes squeaked against the polished floor as he walked over to the side of her bed.
"Doctor," Seraphina said, keeping her voice soft, tentative, and laced with gentle confusion. "I thought you were my husband."
"Mr. Blackwood is down in the administrative wing finalizing some insurance paperwork," Dr. Evans replied, his tone overly casual. He set a silver tray of instruments down on the rolling cart beside her. "I came back to re-examine your optical nerves. How are your eyes feeling now? Still total darkness?"
Seraphina kept her eyes closed under her lids. "Yes, Doctor. It’s still completely dark. Is... is there any chance the nerves will recover?"
Dr. Evans let out a quiet, practiced sigh. "I'm afraid the structural damage from your accident was quite extensive, Seraphina. As I told your husband, the optic nerve atrophy is permanent. You should prepare yourself mentally to adapt to life without sight."
A cold, bitter anger surged through Seraphina’s veins. He was lying straight to her face. She had seen the hallway through her own two eyes less than twenty minutes ago. Dr. Evans wasn't just a passive physician—he was actively helping Adrian keep her trapped in the dark.
"I see," Seraphina whispered, letting her head drop as if crushed by the news. "Thank you for being honest with me, Dr. Evans."
"Of course," he said smoothly. "Now, stay rested. I'll have the nurse bring in your evening sedative."
As Dr. Evans turned and walked toward the door, his phone rang from inside his lab coat pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen before answering in a rushed, hushed tone.
"I told you not to call this line," Dr. Evans muttered angrily as he reached the hallway. He didn't bother closing the door entirely, assuming the blind woman in the bed couldn't move or follow him.
Seraphina didn't hesitate. The moment his coat vanished past the frame, she slid silently out of bed and crept up to the crack in the door, pressing her ear against the gap.
Dr. Evans had walked a few paces down the quiet corridor, his voice low but sharp with anxiety.
"Listen to me carefully," Dr. Evans was saying into his receiver. "The surgery was successful despite the damage, but I’ve done what you asked. I told her the blindness is permanent. She has no idea she can see."
He paused, listening to the person on the other end.
"I don't care about your timeline!" Dr. Evans snapped back under his breath. "I took a massive risk falsifying her medical records three years ago after the crash, and I just took another one today. If anyone audits this clinic, my license is gone."
The voice on the other end was too muffled for Seraphina to make out, but Dr. Evans’ face, visible through the narrow glass slit, was pale and slick with sweat.
"The large payment made before her surgery today barely covers the risk," Dr. Evans continued bitterly. "Adrian promised me the rest of the funds once the corporate transfer goes through next week."
He paused again, his jaw tightening as the caller spoke aggressively.
"Don't threaten me," Dr. Evans whispered, stepping closer to the wall. "If she remembers that night, we're all finished."
- Writer
