Chapter 4 - The Secret Beneath the Surgery
The body belonged to Dr. Elias Grant.
He was alive.
Barely.
Sofia stumbled backward as two guards carried him inside.
Adrian looked from the doctor to his sister.
“What happened?”
“They attacked us outside the east gate.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman checked the hallway.
Emma rushed toward Sofia.
“Are you hurt?”
“It isn’t my blood.”
Adrian stared at his sister.
“Why were you meeting the surgeon who operated on me?”
Sofia looked at Roman.
Then Emma.
Then Adrian.
“Because I found him first.”
“Before whom?”
“Before Dominic.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“You knew Dominic was alive?”
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
“Three months.”
The room became silent.
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“You kept that from me.”
“I was trying to prove it.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sofia’s eyes flashed.
“Because every time someone mentioned the shooting, you turned into a man who wanted revenge more than answers.”
Adrian rolled closer.
“And you thought lying would improve my mood?”
“I thought proof would.”
He stopped inches from her.
“You met Grant six times.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sofia looked toward the injured doctor.
“Because he says your condition may not be permanent.”
Adrian did not move.
Emma stared at him.
Roman swore under his breath.
Adrian’s face became unreadable.
“Explain.”
Grant coughed.
Blood touched his lips.
A guard called for the private medical team.
Grant raised one hand.
“No hospital.”
“You need surgery,” Sofia said.
“No hospital.”
His eyes found Adrian.
“Not until you know.”
Adrian rolled closer.
“Know what?”
Grant struggled to breathe.
“The bullet damaged you.”
Adrian waited.
“But Dominic paid Dr. Mercer to damage you further during surgery.”
Adrian frowned.
“You were my surgeon.”
“I assisted.”
Grant looked ashamed.
“Mercer led the procedure.”
Adrian remembered the name.
Dr. Charles Mercer.
Roman’s older brother.
Slowly, every eye turned toward Roman.
Roman looked stunned.
“My brother?”
Grant nodded.
Roman’s face went pale.
“He died seven years ago.”
“No,” Grant whispered. “He disappeared seven years ago.”
Adrian looked at Roman.
“You told me he died.”
“That’s what my family was told.”
“By whom?”
Roman stopped.
The answer arrived before he said it.
“Dominic.”
Grant continued.
“Charles was forced to alter the surgical repair.”
Sofia covered her mouth.
Emma looked at Adrian.
“What does that mean?”
Grant coughed.
“Scar tissue. Compression. A secondary procedure could potentially restore some function.”
Adrian said nothing.
Could potentially restore some function.
Not walk.
Not certainty.
Possibility.
He hated possibility.
Possibility was hope wearing body armor.
And hope had hurt him more than the bullet.
“No,” Adrian said.
Emma blinked.
“No?”
“I’m not discussing it.”
Grant looked at him.
“You deserve to know.”
“I know enough.”
“Adrian—”
“No.”
He turned toward Sofia.
“You endangered yourself.”
“I was trying to help you.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You never ask.”
“Because I don’t need—”
“Help?”
Sofia laughed bitterly.
“God forbid.”
Adrian glared.
She stepped closer.
“You think needing anyone is weakness.”
“I think lying is.”
“You’re right.”
That stopped him.
Sofia nodded.
“I was wrong.”
Adrian had expected defense.
Not an apology.
It removed his easiest weapon.
She continued.
“But I would lie again if the choice was between your anger and keeping you alive long enough to learn the truth.”
Adrian looked away.
The medical team carried Grant to a secure room.
Roman remained silent.
Adrian noticed.
“Say something.”
Roman looked at him.
“My brother was alive when you were shot.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I believe you.”
Roman seemed surprised.
“You do?”
“You looked too stupid when you found out.”
Emma coughed to hide a laugh.
Roman stared at Adrian.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Later that night, Adrian found Emma in the kitchen.
She was sitting barefoot on a stool.
Her work shoes had been lost at the warehouse.
She had changed into borrowed clothes—black pants and a gray sweater.
“You’re still here.”
She looked up.
“I live in the staff quarters.”
“You could leave.”
“So could you.”
He glanced at the wheelchair.
Emma closed her eyes.
“That came out wrong.”
“No.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Emma.”
She stopped.
He almost smiled.
“It was funny.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“You admit things are funny?”
“Occasionally.”
“I should document this.”
Adrian moved beside the island.
For a while neither spoke.
Then Emma said, “Are you going to meet another surgeon?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I said no.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is when I give it.”
She sighed.
“You know what your problem is?”
“Do you have until morning?”
“You confuse control with strength.”
He looked at her.
“And you confuse employment with therapy.”
“I charge extra for therapy.”
Despite himself, Adrian laughed.
A real laugh.
Short.
Unexpected.
Emma stared.
Adrian stopped.
“What?”
“I didn’t think you could do that.”
“Laugh?”
“Yes.”
“I’m paralyzed, not dead.”
Her face changed.
He regretted the line.
Then Emma smiled.
“That sounded almost human.”
“Leave.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You really enjoy that word.”
“It saves time.”
Silence again.
Emma looked at the city through the dark windows.
“My father wants me to leave Chicago.”
“Smart man.”
“I told him no.”
“Less smart daughter.”
She looked at Adrian.
“You want me to go?”
He answered too quickly.
“Yes.”
Emma noticed.
“Liar.”
Adrian’s gaze hardened.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Do that.”
“Call you a liar?”
“Look at me like you know what I’m thinking.”
“I don’t.”
“You act like it.”
Emma stood.
Now they were close enough that Adrian had to tilt his head slightly.
She was not afraid.
Still.
After kidnappings.
Gunshots.
A dead uncle walking.
She was still not afraid of him.
“You want me gone because people near you get hurt,” she said.
He did not answer.
“And because if I stay, you might care whether I leave.”
His voice became quiet.
“You should stop.”
Emma’s expression softened.
“Why?”
“Because this time you actually reached the line.”
She swallowed.
Then stepped back.
“All right.”
She walked away.
Adrian watched her leave.
He hated the relief.
He hated the disappointment more.
At midnight, he could not sleep.
Pain spread through his lower back.
Phantom sensations moved through legs that had not obeyed him for two years.
He reached for medication.
Stopped.
The bottle looked different.
Same label.
Different cap.
Adrian called Roman.
Within minutes, the pills were tested.
Wrong medication.
A muscle relaxant at a dose strong enough to render him unconscious.
Someone inside the estate had replaced them.
Security locked down again.
Every staff member was questioned.
Emma came to Adrian’s bedroom during the search.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You look furious.”
“I am.”
“That’s your normal face.”
He looked at her.
She smiled faintly.
“You should sleep.”
“I’m not taking anything.”
“I didn’t tell you to.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you look terrible.”
“Better.”
She walked toward the bed and adjusted a pillow.
Adrian watched her.
“Why are you here?”
“Mrs. Donnelly asked me to check the room.”
“Not that.”
Emma paused.
He continued.
“Why are you still in this house?”
She considered him.
“Because I spent half my life thinking my father abandoned me.”
Adrian said nothing.
“Now I know he left because Dominic threatened me.”
She folded a blanket.
“I need to know what else was stolen from us.”
“Us?”
She looked at him.
“You lost two years.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“I lost more than that.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Emma nodded.
“You’re right.”
Again.
No argument.
No pity.
Just acceptance.
Adrian looked down.
“I used to run five miles every morning.”
Emma sat on the edge of a chair.
“I hated running.”
“I boxed.”
“I hate being punched too.”
“I traveled without planning whether buildings had stairs.”
She said nothing.
“I could stand in a room without everyone noticing when I couldn’t.”
His voice cracked almost invisibly.
Emma did not move toward him.
That was why he continued.
“I had women who looked at me because they wanted me.”
“Some probably still do.”
“They look differently.”
“You notice differently.”
His eyes lifted.
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Emma stood.
“You’re allowed to hate what happened.”
Adrian looked at her.
“You don’t have to make it your entire personality.”
He almost threw something.
Instead he said, “You are dangerously close to unemployed.”
“Then I’ll finish changing the sheets.”
She came beside him.
Adrian should have sent her away.
Instead he allowed her to help reposition a pillow behind his shoulder.
Her fingers brushed his arm.
Neither moved.
The moment became quiet.
Different.
Emma stepped back first.
“Good night, Adrian.”
She reached the door.
“Emma.”
She turned.
“Stay.”
The word surprised both of them.
He corrected himself immediately.
“Until security clears the hallway.”
Emma understood the lie.
She returned to the chair.
Hours later, she fell asleep.
Her head gradually tipped toward the mattress.
Adrian woke when he felt her hair against his chest.
Emma had shifted sometime during the night, curled at the edge of the bed while still dressed, one hand tucked beneath her face.
He should have woken her.
Instead he remained still.
For the first time in two years, the bedroom did not feel like a prison.
At dawn, Emma woke.
She sat up instantly.
“Oh God.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“If you’re going to apologize, make it short.”
“I fell asleep on you.”
“I noticed.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked tired.”
Emma stared at him.
Then smiled.
A knock came.
Roman entered.
His face destroyed the moment.
“We found the person who switched your pills.”
“Who?”
Roman placed a staff photograph on the bedside table.
Mrs. Donnelly.
The woman who had managed Adrian’s estate for eighteen years.
The woman who had hired Emma.
Adrian looked at Roman.
“Where is she?”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“She’s gone.”
A phone on the table began ringing.
Mrs. Donnelly’s name appeared on the screen.
Adrian answered.
May you like
Her frightened voice whispered only six words.
“Dominic has Sofia. Come alone.”
