smon

Chương 4

“Is the tenant alive?”

“For now.”

“Is there press?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“That wasn’t my first question.”

“It was your fourth.”

“Oh, good. You’re counting. That means you haven’t completely lost your mind.”

He rubbed his eyes. “There may be missing rent payments.”

“Missing from where?”

“The building ledger.”

“Call Marissa. Don’t call Daniel again until counsel tells you what to say.”

“Daniel knows I found receipts.”

“Of course he does, because you called him before calling your lawyer.”

“Our lawyer.”

“Not if this becomes criminal.”

Lily’s eyes moved toward him at the word.

Nathan lowered his voice. “I have to go.”

“Are you in danger?”

He looked through the glass doors.

“No,” he said. “Not the kind you mean.”

Monica returned and asked to speak with Nathan privately.

Mrs. Alvarez had told her about the eviction notice. The hospital did not mediate housing disputes, Monica said, but housing instability could affect Lily’s placement and Sarah’s discharge plan. She needed to know whether Apartment 4B would remain available.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“As long as they need it.”

“That is not a term I can put in a discharge plan.”

Nathan reached into his jacket for a business card. Monica did not take it.

“Are there active court proceedings?”

“No.”

“Has a termination notice been filed?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“You don’t believe so?”

“The notice I brought was not a court order.”

“Did the tenant know that?”

Nathan said nothing.

Monica’s face changed in the smallest way. No dramatic disgust, only the withdrawal of professional neutrality.

“She is unconscious,” Monica said. “Her seven-year-old believed they had to leave by sunset.”

“I tore up the notice.”

“Paper tears. Fear doesn’t.”

A doctor called Monica’s name before Nathan could answer.

Sarah had developed severe pneumonia complicated by untreated asthma and profound anemia. Her heart had stopped briefly in the apartment, but circulation had returned. She needed intensive care and might require mechanical ventilation through the night.

“Can her daughter see her?” Mrs. Alvarez asked.

“For a minute.”

Lily slid from the chair. The pink sandals fell off. She left them beneath the seat and followed the doctor barefoot.

Nathan stood, but did not move toward the doors.

Mrs. Alvarez picked up the sandals. “You could pay every bill in this hospital and she’d still be scared of you.”

“I know.”

“No. You know numbers. That’s different.”

He looked at her apron. The name of a nearby grocery store had been stitched above the pocket.

“How long has Sarah been sick?”

“Since winter. Worse the last month.”

“Why didn’t anyone call an ambulance before today?”

“She wouldn’t let us.”

“Why?”

“Because an ambulance means bills. Missing work means losing jobs. Hospitals ask who can take the child. Landlords ask when the rent is coming.” Mrs. Alvarez tucked the sandals beneath her arm. “You all ask questions that cost money.”

Nathan had no answer that did not sound like defense.

He called his lawyer.

Marissa Vale answered on the second ring. “Claire briefed me. Do not destroy anything else.”

“I tore the notice before I called you.”

“Yes. Claire included that charming detail.”

“There are receipts that don’t match the ledger.”

“Photograph them, don’t remove them, and do not confront employees alone. I’m arranging an independent forensic review.”

“The tenant may die.”

“I heard.”

“I told her child to pack before sunset.”

Marissa was silent for several seconds.

“Was anyone recording?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is not why I paused.”

Nathan leaned against the wall.

Marissa continued. “You need separate counsel for potential housing claims. The company needs counsel for the financial records. Those interests may conflict.”

“It’s my company.”

“That sentence is how owners turn one problem into six.”

“Daniel says the receipts are fake.”

“Daniel’s opinion is no longer useful. Preserve every message. Do not access or alter office files remotely. Do not tell staff to explain themselves. Do not offer the family money in exchange for anything, including silence, a release, a corrected statement, or gratitude.”

“I wasn’t going to buy their silence.”

“You were willing to frighten a sick woman out of her home to improve a bank presentation. Let’s avoid relying on what you believe you wouldn’t do.”

Her words landed more cleanly than anger.

“What can I do?” Nathan asked.

“Make sure the apartment is secured. Pay for emergency repairs through a third party without asking the family to waive rights. Cooperate with the social worker. Then come to my office.”

“I’m staying here.”

“Why?”

Nathan watched Lily through the glass. She stood beside her mother’s bed while a nurse adjusted tubes. Lily did not touch anything. Her hands remained pressed to her sides.

“Because she asked if I was really the landlord.”

Marissa sighed. “That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the one I have.”

Lily came out six minutes later carrying Nathan’s handkerchief.

“The blood stopped,” she said.

“That’s good.”

She held the cloth toward him.

“You keep it,” he said.

“It’s dirty.”

“It’s doing its job.”

She considered this, then closed her fist around it.

Monica had located Sarah’s sister, Rebecca, in Toledo. She could travel the next morning but had not spoken to Sarah in two years. Until then, Mrs. Alvarez could take Lily after a home check and basic paperwork.

“I’m not sleeping in her apartment,” Lily said.

Mrs. Alvarez looked hurt. “Why not?”

“What if Mom comes home?”

“She won’t come home tonight.”

“What if she does?”

“The hospital won’t let her.”

“What if they make a mistake?”

Monica crouched again. “We will call Mrs. Alvarez immediately if anything changes.”

Lily turned to Nathan. “Can you lock our door?”

“Yes.”

“And don’t let Mr. Denny go in.”

“All right.”

“And don’t throw away the machine.”

“I won’t.”

“And the blue box under it.”

“I won’t touch anything.”

May you like

She held his gaze. “You already touched everything.”

At seven that evening, Nathan returned to Briarwood with a locksmith and a maintenance contractor Marissa had selected from outside the usual vendor list. The fourth-floor hallway smelled of fried onions, bleach, and overheated wiring. Residents had gathered near 4B again, though they stepped aside rather than greet him.

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