Chapter 6 - MASON’S BROTHER SOLD THE HOSPITAL ROOM
Caleb Reed was arrested at Logan Airport.
One carry-on.
Two phones.
Thirty-eight thousand dollars in cash.
Ticket to Lisbon.
He did not get far.
Mason watched the arrest video without blinking.
Then walked into an empty hospital room and punched the wall hard enough to split his knuckles.
I found him there.
Blood on his hand.
He stared at it as though surprised.
“Smart.”
He laughed once.
“Go away.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You told me Lily should leave because Adrian was safe.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“You trusted your brother.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re blaming yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Apparently everyone around Adrian has the same stupid hobby.”
That got his attention.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
I leaned against the door.
“But I think punching walls makes you exactly as useful as you accuse everyone else of being.”
He looked away.
“I hired him.”
“For security scheduling.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Then stop acting like betrayal means you approved it.”
He laughed bitterly.
“That’s generous.”
“No. It’s accurate.”
Maybe I had learned from Adrian.
Or maybe from being blamed for Marcus’s choices too long.
Caleb Reed talked within six hours.
Not because of loyalty.
Because federal prosecutors explained his options.
He had gambling debt.
Eva found him through an underground betting operation.
She paid him first for schedules.
Then hospital transfer details.
Then temporary badge access.
He insisted he did not know Eva planned to contaminate Adrian’s wound.
Maybe true.
Maybe not.
He knew enough to run.
That was enough.
Mason refused to see him.
Adrian did.
Against everyone’s advice.
I learned later.
When I confronted him, he said:
“He was Mason’s brother.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
“It was for me.”
“Why?”
Adrian looked out the hospital window.
“Because Mason would never ask what he needed answered.”
“And you would?”
“Yes.”
“What did Caleb say?”
“That Eva believes Marcus gave me the original drive years ago.”
“He didn’t.”
“I know.”
“So she attacked you because she thought you had it.”
“And because she wanted the routes reopened.”
“What routes?”
“The harbor operations I shut after Marcus.”
I understood.
Adrian had destroyed part of their network.
Not for me.
Before me.
Eva’s business had suffered.
Marcus’s drive could finish it.
“She wanted you dead and the evidence found.”
“Yes.”
“Why not come after me directly?”
Adrian looked at Lily playing with stickers near the window.
“She did.”
The tablet.
The hotel.
Three years of watching.
My skin crawled.
Dr. Brooks entered.
“Time.”
Adrian looked annoyed.
“You’ve been sitting up forty minutes.”
“I’m alive.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
She checked his wound.
Lily wandered over.
Sniffed from two feet away.
Dr. Brooks stopped.
We all did.
Lily said:
“Medicine.”
The doctor smiled.
“Correct.”
No fear.
Just antibiotics.
Good.
Adrian’s recovery took weeks.
Slow.
Painful.
He hated needing help.
Naturally.
The first time I brought him soup at his penthouse, he stared.
“I have staff.”
“You fired half pending security review.”
“I still have staff.”
“Then give it away.”
He ate it.
Lily resumed calling him Uncle Adrian openly.
I corrected her once.
She asked:
“Why?”
I had no answer.
He wasn’t related.
But he had been in her life since infancy.
More consistently than most relatives.
“Fine.”
Adrian looked absurdly pleased.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Enjoy winning against a three-year-old.”
“I’ll take victories where available.”
His home changed during recovery.
Less people.
Fewer security men.
More silence.
Lily filled it.
Crayons on his conference table.
Rabbit on expensive upholstery.
Juice near electronics.
He reacted to each disaster like a man negotiating nuclear terms.
One afternoon, she climbed onto his sofa and asked:
“You have babies?”
Adrian froze.
“No.”
“Why?”
I nearly choked.
He looked at me.
“Help.”
“No.”
Lily waited.
“I was busy.”
She frowned.
“Bad answer.”
I laughed.
Adrian stared.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Hers.”
He looked at Lily.
“I didn’t have children because my life wasn’t safe for them.”
That surprised me.
Lily considered.
“Safe now?”
Adrian looked around.
Then at me.
“Safer.”
That word landed somewhere uncomfortable.
We were becoming close.
Not quickly.
Not romantically at first.
Truth had made everything slower.
Which was good.
I had spent years being grateful to Adrian.
Gratitude can look like affection from the outside.
I needed to know the difference.
So did he.
One evening, after Lily fell asleep on the couch, Adrian said:
“I owe you more than an apology.”
I stiffened.
“For what?”
“Searching your things.”
“Yes.”
“Watching you.”
“Yes.”
“Hiring you partly because I wanted you nearby.”
“Yes.”
“Not telling you about Marcus.”
“Yes.”
He looked almost irritated by how easily I agreed.
“Anything else?”
“I’m thinking.”
I almost smiled.
Then he became serious.
“I thought information would frighten you.”
“It would have.”
“I thought ignorance gave you normal life.”
“It didn’t.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to manage my fear.”
“No.”
That mattered.
He continued.
“I’ve transferred oversight of your employment to the house manager.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You no longer report through me.”
“I’m your housekeeper.”
“Exactly.”
“So?”
“If I ever ask you to dinner, I don’t want your paycheck involved.”
My heartbeat stumbled.
Silence.
Adrian looked uncomfortable.
It was the first time I had ever seen him that way.
“Are you asking me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re still technically living in an apartment owned by one of my companies.”
I almost laughed.
“Adrian.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re terrible at this.”
“Yes.”
“What happens?”
“I’m transferring the lease to an independent housing trust at market value.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
“Why?”
“So you can say no to me without wondering if your rent changes.”
My throat tightened.
Not romance.
Respect.
Maybe better.
“Then ask me later.”
His eyes met mine.
“Later?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Small.
Real.
Before anything else happened, Agent Grant called.
Eva had been found.
Not arrested.
Found.
In Providence.
Inside an abandoned surgical-supply warehouse.
Dead.
For one second, I felt relief.
Then guilt.
Then fear.
“How?”
Agent Grant’s voice was grim.
“Gunshot.”
“Suicide?”
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then who killed her?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Adrian’s expression changed when I told him.
Because Eva had not been the top of the chain.
Someone else was still cleaning up.
And Marcus’s video had named one other person.
May you like
Daniel Kovic.
A man nobody had located.
