Chapter 2 - The Woman Outside the Door
Martha unlocked the bathroom door.
Celia Delaney stood outside wearing her usual charcoal dress, her silver-blonde hair pulled into a flawless knot.
Her expression was pleasant.
Her eyes were not.
“Everything all right?”
“Of course.”
Celia looked past Martha.
Maxwell sat motionless in the bathtub.
Steam drifted around him.
“The towels took a long time.”
“I noticed the water was too hot.”
Celia’s gaze returned to Martha.
“And?”
Martha felt Maxwell watching her.
“I cooled it down.”
For one terrible second, nobody spoke.
Then Celia smiled.
“How thoughtful.”
She entered.
Martha stepped aside.
Celia approached the tub.
“How are you feeling, Maxwell?”
“Like a man whose bath has become a committee meeting.”
Celia smiled.
“Your physical therapist will arrive tomorrow morning.”
“No.”
“You canceled twice.”
“I’ll cancel again.”
“Dr. Vale believes consistency is important.”
At the name, Maxwell’s eyes changed.
Martha noticed.
Celia noticed Martha noticing.
“You may go,” Celia said.
Martha left.
She had almost reached the servants’ staircase when someone caught her arm.
She spun around.
The security guard from the bathroom hallway stood behind her.
His name was Adrian Cole.
“Easy.”
“Don’t grab me.”
He released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
“What do you want?”
“Did anything unusual happen?”
Martha stared at him.
There it was again.
The same question hidden inside different words.
“No.”
Adrian studied her.
“Good.”
He walked away.
That night Martha couldn’t sleep.
Her room was on the ground floor of the staff wing. Rain tapped against the window while the old house groaned around her.
At 1:17 a.m., someone slipped an envelope under her door.
Martha sat upright.
She waited.
No footsteps.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Maxwell.
Standing.
The photograph appeared recent.
He was gripping parallel rehabilitation bars, sweat soaking his shirt, his right leg bent beneath him.
Behind him stood a man in medical scrubs.
Someone had drawn a red circle around the doctor’s face.
On the back were six words:
HE KNOWS MAXWELL CAN WALK AGAIN.
Martha’s hands began trembling.
Below that sentence was another.
HE IS MAKING SURE HE NEVER DOES.
A floorboard creaked outside.
Martha killed the lamp.
Someone stopped outside her room.
The handle slowly turned.
Locked.
Silence.
Then a voice whispered through the door.
“Throw away the photograph.”
Martha recognized the voice.
Adrian.
“How do you know I have it?”
No answer.
She opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
The following morning, Maxwell was already waiting in the library.
“You received something.”
It wasn’t a question.
Martha closed the door.
“You sent it?”
“No.”
She placed the photograph on his desk.
For the first time, Maxwell looked genuinely shocked.
“Where did you get this?”
“Under my door.”
He picked it up.
“Who took it?”
“You tell me.”
Maxwell stared at the image.
“That was eleven weeks ago.”
“You were standing.”
“For four seconds.”
“That’s not paralysis.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you still pretending?”
His eyes rose.
“Because the first time I stood, someone tried to kill me.”
Martha went still.
Maxwell told her about the accident.
Fourteen months earlier, his SUV had gone through a guardrail on a private mountain road.
Investigators blamed brake failure.
Maxwell survived with severe spinal trauma.
Doctors initially said he might never regain meaningful function below his chest.
Then, eleven months later, sensation returned.
First pressure.
Then temperature.
Then movement.
Only three people knew.
Maxwell.
Dr. Simon Vale.
And Maxwell’s younger brother, Julian.
Two days after Maxwell stood during a private therapy session, somebody replaced one of his medications.
He stopped breathing.
Only Adrian’s unexpected arrival saved him.
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
Maxwell gave him a humorless look.
“My family has spent twenty years buying police officers.”
Martha folded her arms.
“You’re telling me you’re surrounded by criminals.”
“I’m telling you I built a world where loyalty was purchased.”
“And now you don’t know who owns whom.”
Maxwell said nothing.
That silence was answer enough.
Martha pointed at the photograph.
“Why me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Someone knows about my rehabilitation background.”
“Yes.”
“Celia hired me.”
“Yes.”
“She sent me upstairs.”
“Yes.”
Martha felt cold.
“So either she wanted me to discover your movement...”
“Or somebody wanted to see what you’d do after discovering it.”
A knock interrupted them.
Celia entered without waiting.
“Dr. Vale has arrived early.”
Maxwell’s face became unreadable.
Behind Celia stood a tall man carrying a black medical case.
Dr. Simon Vale smiled at Martha.
Then he looked at the photograph lying on Maxwell’s desk.
His smile disappeared.
May you like
And Martha realized they had forgotten to turn it over.
