Chương 8
The next break came from Madison.
Not a confession.
A request.
Her attorney contacted Adrian’s family lawyer and asked whether Madison could retrieve personal clothing from the mansion under supervision.
Adrian wanted to say no.
Rachel asked why.
“Because I don’t want her here.”
“That’s fair.”
“I don’t want Sophie to see her.”
“Also fair.”
“I don’t want her touching anything.”
“That sounds like the police’s problem.”
He looked at his sister.
“Whose side are you on?”
Rachel’s face changed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
She stood.
“You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Turning everyone into sides.”
“There are sides.”
“There are responsibilities. That isn’t the same thing.”
“She drugged me.”
“I know.”
“She manipulated Sophie.”
“I know.”
“And you’re defending her coming into my house?”
“No. I’m telling you to stop making me prove my loyalty every time I disagree with how you handle something.”
Adrian looked away.
Rachel grabbed her bag.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“You’ve practically lived here for a week.”
“Yes, because your life detonated and you needed help.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
The second the words left him, he wanted them back.
Rachel stared at him.
“Right.”
“Rachel.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“It isn’t.”
“You’re correct. You didn’t ask.”
She left.
Sophie watched from the hallway.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Excellent, he thought.
One suspected poisoning, one corporate fraud investigation, one traumatized child, and now he had managed to insult the person who had shown up wearing one slipper in the middle of the night.
He called Rachel ten minutes later.
She declined.
He texted:
I’m sorry.
No answer.
Then:
That was ugly and unfair.
Still nothing.
He stared at the phone.
Finally he typed:
Also your socks remain indefensible.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
Go to hell.
He smiled.
A second message followed.
I’ll be back tomorrow.
Madison came to the house on a Wednesday afternoon accompanied by her attorney, a private security representative, and a police officer assigned to keep the retrieval orderly.
Sophie was at Rachel’s.
Adrian had planned to stay in the library.
He lasted eleven minutes.
Then he rolled into the center hall and found Madison standing exactly where she had stood before the glass broke.
She wore black trousers, a cream sweater, and no jewelry.
Without the burgundy gown, without the practiced evening composure, she looked younger.
She also looked exhausted.
Her eyes moved to his chair.
Then to his face.
“How’s Sophie?”
Adrian felt anger rise so quickly it surprised him.
“Don’t.”
Madison swallowed.
“I asked a question.”
“You don’t get to ask me for reports on her.”
“She’s my stepdaughter.”
“You used her fear to keep her quiet.”
Madison looked toward the officer.
Her attorney said gently, “Madison, we should continue upstairs.”
She ignored him.
“I never threatened her.”
Adrian laughed.
“You told her upsetting me could send me back to the hospital.”
“I was trying to stop her from interfering with medication.”
“You hear yourself, right?”
Her jaw tightened.
“You don’t know what was happening.”
“Then tell me.”
Her lawyer stepped forward.
“Not here.”
Adrian looked at him.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
Madison’s eyes filled, but no tears fell.
“You think this is simple.”
“I think you put drugs in my medication.”
“Yes.”
The word stunned him.
Her attorney closed his eyes.
The officer looked over.
Adrian’s hand tightened around his armrest.
Madison spoke quickly.
“I am not making a legal statement. I’m not discussing details.”
“You just admitted—”
“I said you don’t understand.”
“Then help me.”
Her attorney touched her elbow.
“Madison.”
She pulled away.
“Do you think I woke up one day and decided to poison my husband?”
“I don’t know what you decided.”
“You stopped knowing anything about me years before the accident.”
Adrian stared at her.
There it was.
Not an excuse.
Something worse.
A grievance with history.
“You’re going to make this about our marriage?”
“I’m telling you the accident didn’t invent us.”
“No. It just gave you access to my medication.”
Madison flinched.
He hated the satisfaction that gave him.
She looked at the empty stretch of floor between them.
“Malcolm told me the pills would make you sleep.”
Adrian stopped breathing for a second.
Her attorney said, sharply, “We are done.”
Madison kept speaking.
“He said you needed rest. At first.”
“Madison.”
She looked at her lawyer.
“I’m already ruined.”
“That does not mean you improvise a confession in a hallway.”
She laughed once.
“I’m not confessing. I’m telling my husband why his best friend knew more about his medicine than he did.”
Adrian’s voice came out low.
“What did Malcolm give you?”
Her lawyer stepped between them.
“No more.”
Madison turned toward the stairs.
Adrian called after her.
“Was he stealing from the company?”
She stopped.
Her shoulders rose with a breath.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he tell you he was?”
“No.”
“Then why help him?”
She turned around.
For the first time since the glass shattered, Adrian saw something in her face that was not panic, manipulation, or fear.
Resentment.
Old and intimate.
“Because when you got hurt, every person in your life asked me how you were doing. Not one asked me whether I could breathe.”
He stared at her.
“That’s your explanation?”
“No.”
“You drugged me because people were inconsiderate?”
“I said it wasn’t an explanation.”
“Then what is it?”
Madison pressed both hands together.
“He told me you were trying to push yourself back into work before you were ready. He showed me emails. Messages. Calls you didn’t remember making. He said the board was worried. He said if you made the wrong decision in the condition you were in, thousands of people could be affected.”
Adrian felt an almost physical revulsion at hearing corporate responsibility turned into a weapon.
“And you believed him.”
“I had watched you forget entire conversations.”
“Because you were drugging me.”
“Not at the beginning.”
Silence.
That mattered.
He hated that it mattered.
May you like
Madison continued.
“At the beginning, you were on exactly what the doctors prescribed. You were miserable. You barely slept. You snapped at Sophie. You threw a water glass at the wall.”
