Chương 8
A cart rolled down the hallway.
Someone laughed quietly near the nurses’ station.
A machine beeped in a room nearby.
Life continued in small ordinary pieces.
Then I saw the phone on the table.
Ethan’s message was still there.
You have no idea what he is capable of.
I hated that part of me believed him.
Not because Ethan was trustworthy.
He wasn’t.
But because fear had a strange way of making every possibility feel equally real.
I had spent years believing I knew my husband.
Now I was learning that familiarity was not the same as knowing someone.
A knock came at the door.
Adrian stepped inside.
He looked like he had not slept.
That should not have surprised me.
The man had spent the night dealing with a situation that was not his responsibility.
Yet somehow, seeing the tiredness around his eyes made him seem more human.
“You stayed here?”
He glanced at the chair near the window.
“Mostly.”
“Why?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“I wanted to make sure nothing happened.”
I stared at him.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the honest one.”
I looked down at my phone.
“Ethan says you’re dangerous.”
Adrian did not react immediately.
That worried me more than if he had become angry.
“What did you expect me to say?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Most people would defend themselves.”
“Are you not going to?”
He looked toward the window.
“I have done things people could misunderstand.”
“That’s a very careful answer.”
“It is.”
“What things?”
The silence lasted long enough that I knew he was choosing what to reveal.
Not hiding.
Choosing.
“I have made decisions that hurt people.”
The honesty made me uncomfortable.
“Like what?”
“Business decisions.”
“That sounds like a billionaire way of avoiding a question.”
A faint smile appeared.
“Probably.”
I waited.
He did not continue.
I looked away.
“See, that’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“Everyone keeps giving me half the truth.”
His expression changed.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
A pause.
“I know what it feels like to realize the person closest to you kept important things from you.”
The sentence was quiet.
Personal.
I looked at him.
“What happened?”
He did not answer immediately.
“My father built the company before I did.”
I said nothing.
“People think I inherited everything.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Some of it.”
He looked at the floor.
“But I inherited debt, lawsuits, and a company everyone expected me to fail with.”
“That’s not what people say.”
“People prefer simple stories.”
I understood that better than I wanted to.
The abandoned wife.
The billionaire.
The cheating husband.
Everyone loved a version of events that fit into a few sentences.
Reality was always harder.
“What did you do?”
Adrian looked back at me.
“I changed things.”
“That sounds harmless.”
“It wasn’t.”
The room became quiet.
“I fired people.”
“Bad people?”
“Some.”
“And the others?”
He looked away.
“Some were people who had been there for years.”
I studied him.
“Do you regret it?”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
That surprised me.
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because sometimes keeping everything the same is another way of letting things collapse.”
I thought about that.
About my marriage.
About all the moments I ignored because changing something felt more frightening than staying unhappy.
A nurse entered before I could respond.
She checked the monitors and smiled.
“Good morning.”
I noticed her glance toward Adrian.
Not suspicious.
Curious.
“You’re becoming a familiar face.”
Adrian looked slightly uncomfortable.
“I suppose.”
The nurse looked at me.
“You have visitors.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“Your husband’s attorney.”
Of course.
Ethan never came alone when he wanted something.
Adrian stood.
“I’ll leave.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
The word surprised both of us.
He paused.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
That was the honest answer.
“But I don’t want to do this alone.”
Something changed in his face.
Not satisfaction.
Not pride.
Just understanding.
He nodded and moved to the corner of the room.
A few minutes later, Ethan’s attorney entered.
A different man than the one from the conference room.
Older.
Gray hair.
Perfect suit.
The kind of person who looked like he had spent decades learning how to make bad news sound reasonable.
“Mrs. Mercer.”
“Mr. Collins.”
His eyes moved briefly to Adrian.
Interesting.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“I see you have support.”
“Yes.”
The attorney opened his folder.
“I’m here to prevent unnecessary conflict.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s what everyone says before creating conflict.”
His expression remained neutral.
“I understand you are upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
He paused.
“Then what are you?”
I looked at him.
“Tired.”
That seemed to affect him more.
Because anger could be dismissed.
Exhaustion was harder.
“I want to clarify some misunderstandings regarding the property situation.”
“What misunderstandings?”
“The Connecticut property was complicated.”
“That is a vague word.”
“It involved several legal issues.”
“Did Ethan own it?”
The attorney hesitated.
A small pause.
But I saw it.
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“Then why did I believe it was sold?”
“I cannot speak to your personal conversations with Mr. Mercer.”
“That means you know.”
“It means I am not here to discuss marriage matters.”
“Then why are you here?”
He closed the folder.
“Because Mr. Mercer wants to avoid unnecessary damage.”
“To who?”
Another pause.
“Everyone.”
I looked at Adrian.
He remained still.
“What happens if I don’t cooperate?”
The attorney’s face changed slightly.
Not anger.
Concern.
“That depends on what you mean by cooperate.”
“I mean if I ask questions.”
“That is your right.”
“But?”
“There are consequences to legal disputes.”
There it was.
The polite version of a threat.
I nodded slowly.
“You’re telling me I should stop looking.”
“No.”
“You’re telling me it would be easier if I did.”
He did not answer.
The silence was enough.
After he left, I stared at the closed door.
Adrian spoke quietly.
“He was scared.”
I looked at him.
“Scared?”
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because he came here personally.”
May you like
“That means what?”
“People with nothing to hide usually send letters.”
