« Si c’est une blague, vous n’aurez pas d’autre occasion de vous expliquer. »

« Non. »

« Alors commencez à parler. »

Daniel jeta un coup d’œil vers la chambre d’Antonio.

« Pas ici. »

« Ce n’est pas vous qui décidez où nous parlons. »

Dominic le relâcha et désigna une salle de consultation vide.

À l’intérieur, Daniel verrouilla la porte.

Il paraissait plus vieux qu’une heure auparavant.

« Votre mère, Elena, a été déclarée morte après un accident de voiture près de Chicago. J’étais affecté à la sécurité ce soir-là. J’avais vingt-huit ans, et votre père m’avait dit de ne pas m’en mêler. »

« J’ai assisté à ses funérailles. »

«Vous avez assisté à une cérémonie à cercueil fermé.»

Dominic sentit quelque chose se briser en lui.

« Vous êtes en train de me dire que ma mère a survécu ? »

« Je ne sais pas si elle a survécu. Je sais que quelqu’un a payé pour ses dossiers médicaux sous un faux nom pendant plusieurs années après l’accident. J’ai découvert ces paiements l’année dernière. J’aurais dû vous le dire. »

« Pourquoi ne l’as-tu pas fait ? »

« Parce que Vanessa les a trouvés en premier. »

Daniel explained that Vanessa had approached him eleven months earlier, claiming she had discovered evidence that Antonio’s medication was being mishandled by the staff. She wanted Daniel to monitor the housekeeper, review the medical records, and report any unusual behavior.

At first, he believed her.

Then Vanessa began asking about the old accident.

She wanted copies of the reports, the hospital transfer records, and the names of anyone who had worked on the case.

Daniel refused to provide them.

Two weeks later, someone broke into his apartment and left a photograph on his kitchen table.

It showed his teenage daughter leaving school.

Beneath it was a single sentence:

Protect the family that protects yours.

“I should have gone to you,” Daniel said. “Instead, I tried to handle it myself. Vanessa knew I was looking into the payments, and she used my fear to keep me quiet.”

Dominic stared at him.

“You knew about the medication.”

“I knew she had arranged for a bottle to be delivered. I didn’t know what was in it. When I saw her replace the original bottle tonight, I realized I had made a terrible mistake.”

“You watched my father suffer for nineteen nights.”

Daniel lowered his head.

“Yes, sir.”

Dominic wanted to hit him.

He also wanted to ask why every person who claimed to protect his family seemed to believe that silence was the same as loyalty.

Instead, he said, “You’re suspended. Your access is revoked. You will give an independent investigator every record you have, and you will not contact Vanessa or your daughter until we’ve secured both of them.”

Daniel nodded.

“I understand.”

“No. You don’t. If my father was deliberately endangered, I will find out who did it.”

When Dominic returned to Antonio’s room, Emily was sitting beside the bed.

His father was asleep.

She looked up at once.

“Is Daniel responsible?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think Vanessa is?”

“I think we have enough reason to investigate her. I don’t have enough evidence to decide what she did.”

Emily studied him.

“That’s the first honest answer anyone has given me tonight.”

Dominic almost smiled.

Then she asked, “What about your mother?”

He sat down.

“Apparently, she may not have died when I was told she did.”

Emily’s expression softened.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what I feel.”

“Then you don’t have to decide tonight.”

The simplicity of her answer unsettled him more than any accusation.

For years, people had expected Dominic to have an immediate response to everything. He was the man who made decisions, delivered consequences, and never showed uncertainty.

Emily was the first person in a long time who had given him permission not to know.

At 4:06 a.m., Michael arrived with two investigators and a sealed evidence bag containing the recovered medication packaging.

The label was inconsistent with the current prescription records. The investigators photographed it, documented the chain of custody, and arranged for laboratory analysis.

Personne ne pouvait encore dire de quelle substance il s’agissait ni si elle avait provoqué les symptômes d’Antonio.

Mais ils pouvaient prouver que la bouteille n’était pas passée par la pharmacie habituelle.

L’assistante sociale de l’hôpital est alors arrivée avec un visiteur inattendu.

Une femme d’une cinquantaine d’années se tenait sur le seuil, vêtue d’un manteau gris et portant un petit sac à main en cuir.

Ses cheveux étaient striés de reflets argentés.

Ses yeux étaient les yeux de Dominic.

Elle le regarda comme si elle avait répété ce moment mille fois et qu’elle n’était toujours pas prête.

« Dominic. »