The next morning, the clinical silence of St. Jude’s was shattered by a scream that echoed from the basement level. The "Golden Boy" aura vanished as a nightmare took its place.
Mr. Sterling, the billionaire philanthropist whose heart had finally failed him the night before, was gone. Not moved, not transferred—gone. The morgue slab was a cold, empty slab of stainless steel, the white sheet that should have covered him crumpled on the floor like a discarded skin.
"How does a six-foot-four man simply evaporate?" the Hospital Director, Dr. Aris, bellowed. He paced the morgue’s tile floor, his face a frantic shade of purple. "The Sterling family is arriving in exactly twenty-four hours for a state funeral. Julian Sterling is already on a private jet. If that body isn't back on this slab by dawn, St. Jude’s is finished!"
Felix stood by the door, his throat tight. He had been the last one to see Sterling’s body after the pronouncement of death. He looked toward Vane, who was leaning casually against the cooling units, a faint, inscrutable smirk playing on his lips.
"Perhaps he checked himself out, Director," Vane remarked dryly. "Miracles happen in hospitals every day."
"This isn't a joke, Vane!" Aris snapped. "Felix, you were on duty. Who had access?"
"Everyone with a keycard, sir," Felix said, his voice trembling slightly. "But the security cameras in the hall... they were looping. Someone bypassed the feed at 3:00 AM."
The weight of the situation was suffocating. Mr. Sterling and his son, Julian, were legendary for their public image of being "kind and loving" benefactors. But everyone in the high-society circles knew the truth: the Sterlings were litigious, powerful, and possessed of a vengeful streak that could level a city block.
"Search every inch of this ward," Aris ordered, pointing a shaking finger at Felix. "Check the incinerators, the laundry chutes, the service elevators. If word of this leaks to the press before we find him, I’ll make sure none of you ever practice medicine again."
As the Director stormed out, Vane walked past Felix, pausing just long enough to brush his shoulder. "Told you, Felix. The higher you fly, the harder the ground feels. I wonder... what would a man like Julian Sterling do to the doctor who 'lost' his father?"
Felix watched Vane walk away, a cold realization dawning on him. This wasn't just a theft. It was a burial—not for Mr. Sterling, but for Felix’s career. He had twenty-four hours to find a corpse, or he would become the next ghost of Ward 13.
(✷‿✷)(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)(☆▽☆)<(￣︶￣)>(ㆁωㆁ)<(￣︶￣)>(ㆁωㆁ)(ㆁωㆁ)<(￣︶￣)><(￣︶￣)>(≧▽≦)(ㆁωㆁ)(ㆁωㆁ)<(￣︶￣)>
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