Empire of Secrets

Chapter 4—Revenge is Coming

Valarie slipped back into Dr. Maroon's office like a shadow, locking the door behind her with a soft click. The morning sun filtered through the grimy blinds, casting harsh lines across her face.

"We need to discuss terms," she said, her voice honey-smooth again.

Dr. Maroon looked up from his paperwork, exhaustion etched in every line of his weathered face. "Terms were already discussed. The job is done."

"Is it?" Valarie moved closer to his desk, her fingers working at the buttons of her silk blouse. "Because I think we both know there are... loose ends to tie up."

She let the blouse fall to the floor. It was a power play she'd used countless times before, men were so predictable, so easily manipulated by their baser instincts.

But Dr. Maroon barely glanced up.

"Put your clothes back on, Valarie."

She blinked, momentarily thrown. "Excuse me?"

"I said put your clothes back on." He leaned back in his chair, studying her with clinical detachment. "If you want to discuss business, we discuss business. But I'm done being your puppet."

Valarie's perfect composure cracked for just a moment. She grabbed her blouse, clutching it against her chest. "Fine. You want to talk business? The price just went up. One billion dollars."

"One billion?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "For what? A simple elimination?"

"Simple?" Dr. Maroon stood up, his voice rising. "You call what happened last night simple? There was nothing simple about it, Valarie. Nothing clean. Nothing that I can ever wash off my hands."

“I too, I’m a doctor, so I perfectly understand what went on there yesterday.”

“Then, do it yourself. Stop bringing deals to me”. Maroon fired back

"Oh please." Valarie pulled her blouse back on with sharp, angry movements. "Don't get all morals on me now, Doctor. We both know what you are."

"What I was," he corrected. "But I'm done. This was supposed to be my last job with you."

Valarie's voice turned dangerous. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like your incompetent staff failed to complete the most basic part of the job."

He met her eyes. "The elimination is complete. The threats to you are gone, and I want compensation for forty years of doing you and Helen's dirty work."

Valarie laughed again, this time with genuine amusement. "One billion dollars? You're delusional."

"Am I?" Dr. Maroon opened a file cabinet and pulled out a thick folder. "Forty years of records, Valarie. Names, dates, payments. Every single job you ever asked me to do. Every problem you ever asked me to make disappear."

The color drained from Valarie's face. "You wouldn't dare."

"I'm forty-two years old. I've spent half my life cleaning up your mistakes, burying your secrets six feet under. I want to spend whatever time I have left somewhere far from here, somewhere I can maybe find a little peace."

"You signed a contract…"

"I signed a deal with the devil," Dr. Maroon interrupted. "But even the devil should pay his debts eventually."

Valarie's hand moved to her purse, and for a moment Dr. Maroon tensed. But she only pulled out her checkbook, slamming it down on the desk.

"You're not getting a billion dollars."

"Then I'm not disappearing quietly." He sat back down, folding his hands calmly. "And neither are those records."

They stared at each other across the desk, two people who had been partners in darkness for decades, now adversaries in the harsh light of morning.

"Five hundred thousand million," Valarie said finally.

"No, I am not cutting it."

"You're pushing me, Maroon."

"And you're threatening me, Valarie. After everything I've done for your family, after every mess I've cleaned up, every inconvenient truth I've buried, you're threatening me."

"You know what?" She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'm not paying you another dime."

"Then I guess we have a problem."

"No, Doctor. You have a problem." She leaned across the desk, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Because I don't negotiate with extortionists."

"And Dr. Marcus Maroon doesn't work for free anymore."

Valarie reached out to the shelf, this time pulling out a small gold medal, some kind of medical achievement award and hurled it at his head with surprising force.

"There's your payment, you pathetic thing. For your years of loyal service, and this is what you get."

The medal struck him in the forehead and clattered to the floor. A thin line of blood appeared where the edge had cut him.

"Get out," he said quietly.

"With pleasure." Valarie grabbed her coat and headed for the door. "And Doctor? If you think you can blackmail the Constellar family, you're about to learn just how wrong you are."

The door slammed behind her with enough force to rattle the windows.

Dr. Maroon sat in the sudden silence, one hand pressed against the cut on his forehead. Blood seeped between his fingers.

He looked down at the medal on the floor, "Excellence in Medical Service, 1995." The government had given it to him personally, back when he still believed he was helping people and the lines between right and wrong weren't so blurred.

Now it lay on the dusty linoleum like a piece of worthless tin.

"Damn you, Valarie," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with rage and years of suppressed resentment. "Damn you and your whole family."

He picked up the medal, turning it over in his trembling hands. Years of loyal service, burying secrets, cleaning up messes, being treated like nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded.

His voice rose to a roar that echoed through the empty clinic: "You think you can throw me away like garbage?

He hurled the medal against the wall, where it left a small dent in the plaster before clattering back to the floor.

"I'm coming for you, Valarie!" he shouted at the closed door, spittle flying from his lips. "You hear me? I'm coming for all of you! You want to see what happens when you betray Marcus Maroon? You're going to find out!"

His chest heaved with fury as he stared at the door through which she'd disappeared. The woman who had used him, manip

ulated him, and then cast him aside like a broken instrument.

But she had made one critical mistake.