Chương 10
“Noah was afraid you’d take over.”
“He was right.”
“He was also planning to ask you for a job.”
Adrian’s mouth tightened. “He said he didn’t want one.”
“He lied when he wanted to be wanted without asking.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He wanted to maintain old buildings. Not manage them. Fix things. He said broken machines were less humiliating than broken people.”
Adrian looked at the television.
“Noah hated getting his hands dirty.”
“No. You hated seeing him do work the family didn’t brag about.”
The words landed between them.
Elena expected him to defend himself.
He nodded instead.
A nurse opened the inner door. “Ms. Marlow?”
Elena stood.
The nurse looked at Adrian. “You can come if she would like.”
“No,” Elena said.
Adrian remained seated. “I’ll be here.”
The monitoring lasted forty minutes. The baby’s rhythm steadied, then skipped in a way that made the technician’s face too neutral. A physician reviewed the images, asked about dizziness and family history, and explained that uncertainty was not the same as catastrophe.
Elena listened carefully.
She asked what signs required immediate attention. She asked what delivery might look like. She asked what the hospital could know before birth and what would have to wait.
She did not cry until the physician left.
Even then, it was only one tear, which annoyed her.
When she returned to the waiting room, Adrian stood.
“What did she say?”
Elena sat and handed him a printed summary.
He read it.
“They may recommend delivery at the main hospital,” he said.
“Yes.”
“With pediatric cardiology available.”
“Yes.”
“Is that bad?”
“It is prepared.”
He nodded.
The nurse called him for the blood draw.
Before he followed, Elena said, “Adrian.”
He turned.
“If your test shows something, do not make your mother tell you it is nothing.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“I won’t.”
The outside investigation began with records and became about people.
Banquet servers described being scheduled for twelve-hour shifts without reliable breaks. Housekeepers produced photographs of handwritten corrections to time sheets. A former payroll clerk admitted that the defunct contractor had routinely rounded hours down before submitting invoices. Managers blamed the contractor. The contractor’s former owner blamed managers.
Martin Keene blamed complexity.
Dana Cho did not accept complexity as a person.
Within a week, she had enough to show that complaints had been diverted, minimized, or resolved without interviewing the employees who made them. Some practices violated company policy. Others were legal and cruel, which made Adrian angrier in a less useful way.
Elena agreed to one interview.
She brought Reina.
Martin was not present.
Dana asked about prenatal appointments, attendance points, and the scheduling records Noah had mentioned. Elena answered only what she knew. When Dana asked whether Noah had obtained employee documents, Elena placed a flash drive on the table.
“I made the copies,” she said.
Reina turned toward her. “You told me Noah did.”
“He wanted you out of it.”
“What is on the drive?” Dana asked.
“Photos of schedules, time sheets employees gave me, and messages from supervisors. Nothing from systems I wasn’t authorized to access.”
“Why didn’t you report this earlier?”
“I did.”
Dana waited.
Elena added, “I told Glen. Glen said he would speak to payroll. Two weeks later, I lost three Saturday shifts.”
“Did anyone say the changes were retaliation?”
“No.”
“Do you believe they were?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
“No.”
The distinction mattered to her.
After the interview, Adrian waited near the elevators.
Elena stopped when she saw him.
“I wasn’t listening,” he said.
“I assumed the wall had ears.”
“Dana told me when you finished. Nothing else.”
Reina pressed the elevator button. “Good. We love a rich man practicing restraint.”
The doors opened.
Adrian stepped inside with them but did not press his floor.
“I received the first test result,” he said. “It found the same variant the clinic is investigating.”
Elena’s hand moved to her stomach.
“They don’t know what it means yet,” he added. “It can be harmless in some people.”
“And Noah?”
“They can’t test him without stored samples, and no one knows whether any remain.”
Reina stared at the floor numbers. “Your family spent how much naming a foundation after him but didn’t keep track of his medical records?”
Adrian accepted that too.
Elena watched his reflection in the elevator doors. He looked thinner than he had at the gala. The beard along his jaw had grown unevenly, as though he had forgotten which mornings mattered.
“You need a cardiologist,” she said.
“I have an appointment.”
“Good.”
The elevator stopped at the banquet level.
Reina stepped out. Elena followed.
Adrian remained inside.
“Elena.”
She turned.
“There are boxes of Noah’s belongings in hotel storage. My mother does not want them opened. I think there may be work records or medical information.”
“And?”
“I want you present if we review them.”
“Why?”
“Because some of it may belong to you.”
The elevator doors began to close. Adrian put a hand against them.
Elena considered him.
“Saturday morning,” she said. “Reina comes.”
“Fine.”
“And your mother.”
His expression shifted.
“If the boxes are Noah’s,” Elena said, “she gets to be angry in the room instead of somewhere else.”
Adrian released the door.
“Saturday,” he agreed.
Hotel storage occupied a dry basement beneath the older tower. The room smelled of cardboard, dust, and the citrus cleaner used in guest corridors.
Vivienne arrived twelve minutes late wearing leather gloves she did not remove.
She looked at Elena’s stomach before looking at Elena’s face.
“Elena Marlow,” she said.
“Vivienne Voss.”
No one offered a hand.
Reina stood beside a rolling cart with coffee and breakfast sandwiches. “I brought food because grief makes rich people forget blood sugar.”
Vivienne stared at her.
Reina held out a sandwich. “Egg or no egg?”
After a pause, Vivienne took the one without.
May you like
Adrian unlocked the storage cage.
Inside were nine labeled boxes, a garment bag, Noah’s canvas tool bag, and a bicycle missing its front wheel.
