Chapter 8 - The Man Who Tried to Buy My Silence
"Tell me you didn't plan our meeting."
Adrian stood beside the office window.
For the first time since I'd known him, he seemed to be searching for words.
"Emma—"
"Did you know I worked at Mercy General?"
"Yes."
I felt something unpleasant unfold inside my chest.
"Did you choose that hospital because of me?"
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Yes."
The answer struck harder than I expected.
I stepped backward.
"So the wound?"
"Real."
"But you could have gone somewhere else."
"Yes."
"You wanted to meet me."
"I'd been trying to establish contact safely. When I was injured, I made the decision to go to Mercy General because I knew you were scheduled to work."
I stared at him.
"You knew my schedule?"
"I had someone confirm it."
"Do you understand how disturbing that sounds?"
"Yes."
"Then why?"
He looked directly at me.
"Because I believed you might be the only person your father trusted with the missing evidence. I wanted to warn you before Victor Hale found you."
I let out a shaky breath.
"And you didn't think explaining that might be useful?"
"I didn't know whether I could trust you."
I laughed once.
A terrible, humorless sound.
"That's funny. Because you spent the entire evening talking about trust."
Adrian took a step toward me.
I raised my hand.
"Don't."
He stopped immediately.
"I treated you because you needed medical care," I continued. "Not because I wanted to become part of whatever conflict your family created."
"I know."
"No. I don't think you do."
I picked up my bag.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Somewhere I can think without being surrounded by men who know my work schedule."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he called Marco.
"Arrange secure transportation to a location of Emma's choosing. And give her every document we can legally share with her."
I turned toward him.
"You're letting me leave?"
Adrian's expression tightened.
"I don't own you."
The simplicity of the statement nearly broke my composure.
But I still walked out.
Rosa met me in the hallway.
She took one look at my face and didn't ask questions.
Instead, she pressed a small container into my hands.
"Sandwiches."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You've barely eaten. Anger is easier to manage with food."
Then she embraced me.
I hadn't expected it.
For a moment, I allowed myself to lean into the warmth.
"He's an idiot," she whispered.
Despite everything, I laughed.
"I noticed."
I spent the next day at a small guesthouse arranged through an attorney working with the investigation.
It wasn't luxurious, and that was exactly what I wanted.
I contacted Dr. Patel, explained that I'd become connected to an active criminal investigation, and requested temporary leave.
Then I called Mrs. Henderson to check on my apartment.
"Everything is fine," she assured me. "Although your gentleman friend has apparently replaced my broken porch light."
"He's not my gentleman friend."
"Of course, dear."
I hung up.
At noon, a delivery arrived.
Not flowers.
Not jewelry.
A folder.
Inside were copies of the property records linking Victor Hale to Nightjar, along with a formal letter from Adrian.
Emma,
I should have told you the truth before asking for your trust.
You deserved a choice informed by facts, not circumstances I manipulated.
I've instructed my legal team to make all relevant evidence available to investigators. You do not owe me forgiveness, assistance, or another conversation.
— Adrian.
I read it twice.
Then placed it aside.
At three that afternoon, the guesthouse manager knocked on my door.
"A gentleman is asking for you."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"He says his name is Victor Hale."
I froze.
"Did you let him inside?"
"He's in the reception area."
I immediately contacted the investigator assigned to my case.
Then I went downstairs, keeping my phone recording openly in my hand.
Victor Hale looked nothing like the villain I'd imagined.
He was a polished man in his late fifties, with neatly combed silver hair, a charcoal suit, and a warm smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"Emma Shaw."
He rose.
"Your father spoke so highly of you."
I remained standing.
"How did you find me?"
"I have resources."
"That wasn't reassuring."
He smiled.
"Direct. Just like Daniel."
I glanced toward the reception desk.
The manager remained nearby.
"What do you want?"
"To offer you a peaceful solution."
He placed a cream-colored envelope on the table.
Inside was a banker's draft.
One million dollars.
I stared.
"What's this?"
"Compensation for the distress surrounding your father's unfortunate accident."
"My father's death is being reinvestigated."
"That can be painful for everyone involved."
I looked up.
"Are you asking me to stop cooperating?"
"I'm suggesting you consider your future."
He slid a document toward me.
A confidentiality agreement.
I almost laughed.
"You think you can buy my silence?"
"I think you've spent years working difficult shifts to pay bills that should never have been yours. One signature could change that."
For a moment, I saw my apartment.
My overdue rent.
My mother's medical debts.
The years I'd spent choosing groceries based on what was discounted.
Victor noticed my hesitation.
He leaned closer.
"Imagine never worrying about money again."
I slowly closed the folder.
Then slid it back.
"My father didn't die so I could sell whatever he was trying to protect."
Victor's smile faded.
"Be careful, Emma."
"Is that a threat?"
"Advice."
He stood.
As he passed me, he lowered his voice.
"Ask Russo what happened to the first woman he promised to protect."
Then he left.
I remained motionless.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Adrian.
Victor Hale's vehicle was seen near your location. Are you safe?
I stared at the screen.
Before I could answer, another message arrived.
This one came from Catherine Vale.
If you want Lucy to live, stop trusting both men.
Attached was a live photograph.
May you like
Lucy sat in the back seat of a car.
And behind her, visible through the window, was the unmistakable entrance to Mercy General Hospital.
