The Comatose Wife's Billionaire Family Comeback

Amari's bare feet slapped against the cold linoleum floor of the hospital. The chill seeped through her soles, making her toes curl. Above her, the fluorescent lights buzzed. The sound grated against her eardrums. She ducked behind the heavy metal door of the stairwell. Her small fingers gripped the edge of the doorframe. Her chest heaved. She held her breath.

Two nurses pushed a stainless-steel medication cart down the hall. The wheels squeaked. The nurses complained about the night shift. Their voices bounced off the sterile walls. Amari waited. The squeaking faded. The voices disappeared.

Amari stepped out. She pushed the heavy wooden door of Room 302. The hinges groaned. The sharp stench of rubbing alcohol hit her face. Her stomach churned. She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. She tiptoed toward the center of the room.

Evalyn lay on the bed. A plastic ventilator mask covered her nose and mouth. The machine hissed. Amari stared at her mother's sunken cheeks. The skin looked like gray wax. Amari bit her lower lip. Her teeth dug into the chapped skin until she tasted copper.

She shoved her hand into the pocket of her faded overalls. Her fingers found the crumpled piece of paper. She pulled it out. It was a crayon drawing. She smoothed the wrinkled edges. She reached out. She slid the paper into Evalyn's palm. The skin was ice-cold.

Under the thin eyelids, Evalyn's eyeballs darted back and forth. The movement was fast, erratic.

Sharp clicks echoed in the hallway. High heels hitting the floor tiles. The sound grew louder. Amari's head snapped toward the door. Her eyes widened. Her pulse hammered in her neck. She dropped to her knees. She scrambled under the metal bed frame. Dust coated her hands. She pressed her belly against the floor.

The door handle jerked down. The heavy door slammed open. It hit the wall stopper with a loud crack.

"I hate this place." Delma's voice rang out. Her tone was sharp, annoyed.

Jazmyne walked in behind her. She pushed the door shut. The lock clicked.

Delma walked to the bed. She kicked the metal leg. The frame rattled. Under the bed, Amari clamped both hands over her mouth. Her lungs burned. She didn't dare breathe.

"Another month, another massive bill for this vegetable." Jazmyne said. Her Cartier bracelets clinked together.

Delma sneered. She unzipped her leather bag. She pulled out a stack of papers. A Do Not Resuscitate form. The signature at the bottom was forged. She pulled a Montblanc pen from her pocket. She clicked the top.

Jazmyne reached toward the ventilator. Her manicured fingers hovered over the power switch.

The screen flickered. A low hum vibrated through the machine.

Amari watched from the shadows. She saw Jazmyne's hand grab the thick plastic oxygen tube. Jazmyne yanked it halfway out of the machine.

Amari's stomach dropped. Her vision tunneled. She scrambled out from under the dusty bed on her hands and knees. She threw her small body forward. She wrapped her thin arms around Jazmyne's calf. She opened her mouth and bit down hard on the bare skin right above the designer heel.