Chapter 2 - The Needle Mark
Nico stared at the puncture near his wrist as if it belonged to someone else. Adeline had seen that expression before, though usually on patients receiving news they did not want to understand. It was not fear exactly. It was the brain searching for a harmless explanation and finding none. Nico rubbed the mark once with his thumb, then looked toward the gym doors as though the person responsible might still be standing on the other side, listening.
“Could it be from the hospital?” he asked. “You haven’t been to a hospital in eleven days.” “Blood draw?” “I did the last one myself. Left arm.” His gaze returned to the small bruise. “Maybe I caught something.”
“With a hollow needle-shaped object that also left an older mark two inches away?” He went still. Adeline hated the next part, because suspicion was dangerous medicine. Once administered, it spread into every room and every conversation. “I want to check your medication log against the inventory in your suite.”
Nico’s eyes narrowed. “You think someone is drugging me.” “I think there are unexplained injection marks on a patient whose medication is supposed to be administered by one nurse. That requires an explanation before it requires a theory.”
“Marsh.” “That’s the answer you get while I’m wearing scrubs.” His mouth tightened, but he nodded. They took the private elevator to the second floor. The Alfieri estate was less a home than a monument to a family that had spent a century trying to make money look like history. Oil portraits watched from paneled walls. Marble busts occupied corners no one used. Antique clocks ticked in rooms large enough to host diplomatic receptions. To Adeline, the place had always felt strangely airless, as though every generation had left behind secrets no window could ventilate.
Nico’s suite was different. Before the accident, he had apparently kept it severe and almost masculine to the point of hostility: charcoal walls, dark wood, black-and-white photographs of Chicago in winter. After the accident, ramps had been installed, thresholds shaved down, rugs removed, and grab rails discreetly added to the bath. The adaptations were tasteful. Nico hated every one of them.
Adeline opened the locked medication cabinet and placed each bottle on the desk. Anti-inflammatory medication. Nerve-pain medication. A low-dose muscle relaxant reserved for nights when spasms became severe. A sleep aid he rarely used. She compared pill counts with her chart, then checked the sealed injectable medication supplied months earlier for emergency muscle spasms.
One vial was missing. Nico watched her face. “What?” She held up the tray. “There were four sealed ampules when I started. I documented four. There are three.” “Could one of the previous nurses have used it?”
“Then it should be in the record.” “Maybe the record is wrong.” Adeline turned toward him. “You hired me because I don’t tell you what makes you comfortable. The record is not wrong.” For the first time since she had known him, Nico looked less angry than tired.
He wheeled toward the windows. Below, on the circular drive, staff moved among delivery vans carrying white flowers, rental glassware, and boxes stamped with the crest of some luxury caterer. The wedding machinery was gathering around him. In nineteen days, five hundred guests would watch Nico Alfieri marry Camille Ashcroft beneath a cathedral ceiling while two of Chicago’s most powerful families congratulated themselves on the alliance.
“Camille sleeps in the west suite,” Nico said quietly. “We haven’t shared a room since the accident.” Adeline kept her expression neutral. He glanced back. “You don’t have to look relieved.” “I’m not.” “You’re terrible at lying.”
“So are you.” Before he could answer, a knock sounded at the open door. Dominic Alfieri entered carrying a leather folio beneath one arm. He was two years younger than Nico and looked enough like him to make their differences more striking. Both had the same dark hair and deep-set eyes, but Dominic wore charm like expensive cologne. His suit was softer, his smile easier, his gestures designed to put rooms at ease. He had become the public face of the family businesses after Nico’s accident, appearing at charity lunches and board meetings while Nico recovered behind the estate gates.
“There you are,” Dominic said. “Camille told me you were interrogating your nurse instead of saving the River North deal.” Nico’s expression cooled. “What makes you think I’m interrogating her?” Dominic smiled at Adeline. “Because everyone in this house eventually gets interrogated by Nico.”
“Not everyone,” Adeline said. “Some people volunteer useful information.” Dominic laughed once. “I see why he kept you.” Nico held out his hand. “Contracts.” Dominic placed the folio on the desk. “Nothing dramatic. Renewal provisions, warehousing access, liability language. Ashcroft Capital wants the signature before market close.”
“Why is Ashcroft Capital in a cold-storage contract?” The question changed Dominic’s face for less than a second. Adeline saw it because she had spent years watching people conceal pain from doctors. “They’re financing the expansion,” Dominic replied.
“They weren’t last month.” “Terms changed.” “Without my approval?” “You were in rehabilitation.” Nico’s voice became very soft. “I was in a wheelchair, Dom. Not a coma.” The room tightened. Dominic opened his hands. “Fine. Review it. Tear it apart. Make the lawyers earn their retainers. But don’t turn one revised financing clause into a Greek tragedy.”
He looked at Adeline again, and this time his smile did not quite reach his eyes. “We all want Nico healthy. Just be careful not to make him suspicious of everyone who cares about him.”
Adeline met his gaze. “Suspicion isn’t part of physical therapy.” “Good.” “Observation is.” Dominic’s smile vanished. He left without another word. Nico waited until the footsteps disappeared down the hall. Then he opened the folio.
For the next forty minutes, Adeline reorganized supplies while Nico read. She tried not to watch him, but she noticed the way his posture changed. The exhaustion disappeared. The injured man vanished, replaced by the calculating figure whose reputation had filled newspaper columns for years. He turned pages slowly, circling clauses, making notes in the margins, occasionally returning to earlier sections.
Finally he stopped. “Here.” Adeline approached the desk. A section near the back transferred temporary voting authority over three logistics subsidiaries if Nico became “medically unable to discharge executive responsibilities.” The authority would pass jointly to Dominic Alfieri and Ashcroft Capital.
Adeline read it twice. “Is that normal?” “No.” “Did you know about it?” “No.” Nico closed the folder with a flat, controlled movement. “But it explains why someone might prefer my recovery to remain theoretical.”
Adeline wanted to tell him not to jump to conclusions. Then she remembered the missing ampule. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She almost ignored it, but the screen displayed BOSTON CHILDREN’S CARDIOLOGY. Her stomach dropped. She stepped into the adjoining sitting room and answered in a low voice.
The coordinator spoke gently. A surgery slot had opened sooner than expected. If the deposit could be submitted within ten days, Wes could be scheduled the week after next. If not, the slot would go to another child and the next opening might be months away.
Adeline thanked her, ended the call, and stood staring at the black screen. Ten days. She was still almost twelve thousand dollars short. When she returned, Nico was watching her. “What happened?” “Nothing that concerns you.”
“Your face says otherwise.” “My face is off duty.” He studied her, but something in her expression made him stop pushing. A second vibration came from the desk. Nico’s phone this time. He picked it up and read the message.
Then he turned the screen toward Adeline. It was from Camille. DON’T FORGET YOUR EVENING INJECTION. DOMINIC SAYS THE DOCTOR WANTS YOU RESTED BEFORE TOMORROW’S FITTING. Adeline felt cold crawl up her spine. “There is no evening injection,” she said.
May you like
Nico’s thumb hovered over the screen. “I know.” A moment later another message appeared. Camille had corrected herself. SORRY. I MEANT YOUR NIGHT MEDICATION. LONG DAY. Nico looked at Adeline. Adeline looked at the missing ampule. Neither of them believed the correction.
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