The Comatose Heir Won’t Let Me Divorce

Chapter 6: Uncle at the Bedside

Behind Malcolm, Adrian opened his eyes.

He did it slowly, keeping his face slack and his breathing unchanged. If I had not spent the last day watching him fight for every movement, I might have missed it.

Malcolm's hand remained on my shoulder. "You were supposed to finish this last night," he said again.

The old Vivienne knew how to answer him. I felt the response waiting somewhere beneath my ribs: lower my eyes, soften my voice, give him enough truth to stop the questions.

I hated how natural it felt.

"Bell came in before it was done."

Malcolm studied my face. "Marcus said you called the response team."

"The pump alarm was loud. People were already coming. I needed to look frightened for the cameras."

That was a gamble. The hallway camera had a twelve-minute gap, but I did not know whether Malcolm knew it.

His thumb stroked once over the fabric at my shoulder, a reward given to a child who had finally remembered her lesson.

"And the syringe?"

"The hospital sealed it."

"Why would you allow that?"

Anger flashed across his face before concern covered it. The change was so quick that I wondered how often Vivienne had seen it and pretended not to.

"Dr. Shah brought security into the room," I said. "Bell couldn't take it without making himself the center of the investigation."

Malcolm glanced back at Adrian. His nephew lay with his eyes closed again.

"What did he receive?"

"You should ask Bell."

His fingers pressed harder. "I'm asking you, Vivi."

I pictured the message on my phone. Did he take the full dose?

"Enough to make the doctors excited about a reflex," I said. "Not enough to make him useful."

The sentence tasted foul. I made myself leave it there.

Malcolm relaxed.

It was the answer he wanted, which meant Adrian had just heard me sound exactly like the wife who had helped keep him unconscious.

"Good girl," Malcolm murmured.

My stomach turned.

He guided me another step toward the corridor. "The service fee has already been paid. One point four million, divided as you requested. Hale Heritage cannot afford for you to become sentimental now."

"Sentimental?"

"You spent nine months complaining about this marriage. Don't discover a conscience with ninety days left."

The words struck somewhere deeper than the accusation. Perhaps Vivienne had complained because she was cruel. Perhaps she had complained because every exit had a price Malcolm controlled.

"I haven't," I said.

His familiar smile returned. "Then answer the next message. People become nervous when you ignore them."

He kissed my forehead before leaving. I stood in the doorway until the cedar-and-orange scent faded down the hall. Only then did I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.

The gesture did nothing. I could still feel the shape of his mouth against my skin and the pressure of his fingers on my shoulder. In the small bathroom, I ran cold water over a towel and scrubbed until the skin above my eyebrow turned pink.

Vivienne's face stared from the mirror, furious and frightened in equal measure.

"Did you let him do that every time?" I asked her reflection.

No memory answered. My shoulder throbbed anyway.

When I returned, Adrian was waiting with his eyes open. His attention went first to the reddened skin above my eyebrow, then to the damp towel in my hand. Something moved across his face before the words I had used to fool his uncle buried it.

"That convincing enough for you?" I asked the man who had fooled Malcolm into thinking he was unconscious.

Adrian dropped the pretense completely.

His face held no gratitude.

Fair. I had just called him useless beside his own bed.

Dr. Shah returned from the nurses' station and saw both of us. "I was gone for six minutes. Why does this room feel like someone started a war?"

"Family visit," I said.

"Ah. So yes."

She checked Adrian's breathing and raised his bed slightly. He tried to speak, but the first sound scraped painfully from his throat.

"Board," he managed.

Dr. Shah handed it to him with a warning about five minutes. He ignored the warning and spelled one word.

PHONE.

"No."

His finger struck the board harder.

SHOW.

"I'll give Samuel and Naomi the messages connected to the threat. You are not getting my entire phone."

His expression cooled.

AGREEMENT.

"The agreement says relevant information, not unrestricted access."

He began spelling again, missing the second letter in his hurry.

HE THINKS YOU DID IT

"Yes. That was the point."

YOU KNEW WHAT TO SAY

The accusation hurt because it was true.

"My body knew," I said. "I followed the fear and guessed what he wanted."

His finger moved again.

YOU SOUNDED LIKE HER

"I am aware. I had to hear it too."

He looked toward the place Malcolm had stood. Something in his expression eased, then closed again before I could decide whether I had imagined it.

Adrian looked at me as if that distinction had been designed for my convenience.

"You heard him mention the payment. I will give both attorneys the full conversation and the threat messages. I won't give you private photographs, medical information, or whatever else Vivienne kept on this phone."

His finger moved.

SHE IS MY WIFE

"She is also the woman you think tried to kill you. You don't get to claim her privacy only when it helps your investigation."

Color rose along his cheekbones. The monitor began to accelerate.

Dr. Shah stepped between us. "If either of you makes my patient tachycardic over document production, I will remove the communication board and possibly the spouse."

Adrian did not look away from me.

Neither did I.

I had mistaken his agreement in front of the lawyers for trust. It had been strategy. The realization embarrassed me more than it should have, because some foolish part of me had begun to care what he thought when he looked at me.

"I'll send the relevant files through Naomi," I said. "That is what I agreed to."

I left before he could answer.

Leah found me in the corridor with my arms wrapped around myself.

"You need food," she said.

"Apparently I always forget to eat when I'm nervous."

"Who told you that?"

"The person making me nervous."

She looked toward the elevators where Malcolm had disappeared. "Family?"

"Unfortunately."

Leah led me toward the small staff pantry because the public waiting area had reporters downstairs. She found yogurt, crackers, and a banana with more brown than yellow. "Hospital luxury," she said.

I took the banana. "Finally, something suited to the dress."

This time she laughed out loud.

The laughter stopped almost immediately. Leah looked down at the crackers in her hand.

"I shouldn't forget what happened to Mara just because you're different today," she said.

"Who is Mara?"

Leah's face closed. "Someone who used to run Mr. Voss's nursing team."

"What happened to her?"

"You fired her. In front of half the floor."

The banana felt heavy in my hand. "Why?"

"I wasn't in the room. And I'm not discussing her without permission." Leah stepped back, professional distance returning between us. "You should eat before the yogurt warms up."

She left me with the first consequence of Vivienne's life that could look me in the face and choose not to forgive. My phone vibrated before I could peel it.

The unknown number had sent another message.

You should have listened.

Beneath the words was a photograph.

Vivienne stood outside Adrian's room at 11:41 the previous night, one hand on the door. The image had been taken from behind, close enough to catch the pale line of her neck above the silk dress.

Seven minutes before I woke with the syringe.

Someone had been standing close enough to touch me.

And whoever took the picture knew I could not remember them.