Chapter 6 - Thirty Days
By sunrise, Meline had two armed security officers sitting in an unmarked vehicle outside Riverbend.
She also had a problem.
Adrian Vance.
“You cannot move my mother.”
“She isn’t safe there.”
“She is sick. Change makes her panic.”
“Being murdered is also disruptive.”
Meline glared.
“That is not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
They stood in Adrian’s kitchen at seven in the morning.
Bennett was pretending not to listen.
Eli had been taken upstairs.
Meline’s uniform was wrinkled, her hair falling loose around her face.
Adrian had not slept.
Neither had she.
“She stays,” Meline said.
“Then security stays.”
“Fine.”
“Four men.”
“Two.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
Adrian stared.
“Are we negotiating security?”
“Yes.”
“Three.”
“Fine.”
Bennett finally spoke.
“I’ll arrange it.”
Adrian poured coffee.
Meline sank into a chair.
The adrenaline had disappeared, leaving exhaustion behind.
Her phone vibrated again.
Riverbend billing.
She almost ignored it.
Almost.
Then answered.
The coordinator reminded her that nothing had changed.
Twenty-nine days remained.
Meline closed her eyes.
After everything that had happened, money still existed.
Bills still existed.
The world still expected payment whether someone was threatening your mother or not.
Adrian watched her.
When she hung up, he asked:
“How much?”
Meline looked up sharply.
“No.”
“How much does Riverbend want?”
“None of your business.”
“You looked like someone punched you.”
“Adrian.”
“How much?”
“Stop.”
He waited.
She stood.
“I’m going home.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll have a car take you.”
“I have a car.”
“Meline.”
“What?”
“You’re being followed.”
She froze.
“We found a vehicle outside the employee entrance.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Her anger disappeared.
“I can’t even go home?”
“Not safely.”
She sat again.
For a moment she looked very young.
Adrian hated it.
He had dragged her into a world she had never asked to enter.
“Stay here,” he said.
“I work here.”
“I mean sleep.”
“Here?”
“There are forty-two bedrooms.”
“Forty-two?”
“Something like that.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
Despite herself, Meline laughed.
Then she covered her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I laugh when I’m overwhelmed.”
“Better than breaking doors.”
She looked at him.
“Is that your strategy?”
“It was.”
“What is it now?”
Adrian glanced toward the piano room.
“I’m considering music.”
Bennett returned.
“Guest suite prepared.”
Meline frowned.
“You did that already?”
Bennett’s expression remained perfectly formal.
“I anticipated the argument.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“The side most likely to preserve the furniture.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Meline slept six hours.
When she woke, there was an envelope beside the bed.
Her first thought was Victor.
She nearly screamed.
Then she saw Adrian’s handwriting.
This is not charity.
Inside was a check.
$27,600.
Meline stared.
Anger rose so quickly she was downstairs before fully awake.
Adrian was in the study.
She threw the check onto his desk.
“No.”
He looked at it.
“Why?”
“Because I said no charity.”
“It’s a loan.”
“There are no terms.”
“We can create terms.”
“I don’t borrow twenty-seven thousand dollars from mafia bosses.”
“Excellent personal policy.”
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Adrian stood.
“Because your mother is in danger partly because of me.”
“She was already in debt.”
“Because she worked for my family.”
“That doesn’t make you responsible.”
“It makes me able to solve one problem.”
Meline shook her head.
“I don’t want to owe you.”
“You already saved my life.”
“I played a piano.”
“You made me sleep.”
“That isn’t the same.”
Adrian’s voice lowered.
“For me, it is.”
Silence.
Meline looked at the check.
Twenty-seven thousand six hundred dollars.
Her mother’s room.
Her medical care.
Thirty days suddenly disappearing.
She wanted to take it.
That frightened her.
“What if I can’t repay you?”
“You will.”
“How?”
“Work.”
“As a maid for ten years?”
“As a pianist.”
Meline blinked.
Adrian opened a folder.
Inside was a contract.
“Seven-night arrangement ends tomorrow.”
“You planned this?”
“Bennett did.”
The butler appeared as if summoned.
Meline glared.
“You two are terrifying.”
Bennett inclined his head.
“Thank you.”
Adrian continued.
“Private music consultant. Eli’s piano instructor. Three nights per week. Salary plus repayment deduction.”
Meline looked at the number.
Then looked again.
“That salary is insane.”
“It’s less than therapist number eighteen.”
“What happened to therapist eighteen?”
“He cried.”
“You made your therapist cry?”
“He was sensitive.”
Bennett coughed.
“He threw a chair, sir.”
“At me.”
“Near you.”
“Bennett.”
Meline laughed.
Adrian watched her.
The room changed.
Not dramatically.
But something softened.
Meline noticed too.
She looked away.
“What are the terms?”
“Two-year contract. You can resign with notice. Riverbend payment is deducted monthly without interest.”
“No interest?”
“I’m not a bank.”
“That may be the most legally questionable sentence you’ve said.”
Adrian smiled.
Meline read every page.
Twice.
Then signed.
Later that afternoon, Riverbend confirmed receipt.
Norah would stay.
Meline sat alone in the music room and cried for ten minutes.
Not because Adrian had rescued her.
She refused to think of it that way.
Because for the first time in months, the countdown in her head had stopped.
Eli entered quietly.
“Are you sad?”
“No.”
“You’re crying.”
“Adults do that when they’re relieved.”
“That’s weird.”
“Adults are weird.”
He climbed onto the bench.
“Lesson?”
“Lesson.”
They practiced for an hour.
Halfway through, Adrian appeared in the doorway.
He watched silently.
Eli missed a chord.
“Again,” Meline said.
The boy tried.
Better.
“Again.”
He succeeded.
Meline smiled.
“There.”
Eli looked toward his father.
“Did you hear?”
Adrian nodded.
“I heard.”
The pride on the boy’s face transformed him.
Then every light in the room shut off.
Meline froze.
Not another storm.
No thunder.
No wind.
Adrian immediately moved.
“Eli, down.”
The boy dropped behind the piano.
A gunshot shattered the window.
Meline screamed.
Adrian pulled her to the floor.
Another shot.
Then another.
Security alarms erupted.
Men shouted outside.
Glass scattered over the marble.
Adrian shielded Meline and Eli with his body.
Within thirty seconds, the shooting stopped.
Bennett rushed in with security.
“Sir?”
“We’re fine.”
Meline’s ears rang.
Eli was shaking.
Adrian grabbed him.
“You’re okay.”
Meline looked toward the broken window.
Something had been thrown through it.
Not a bullet.
A photograph.
She crawled forward.
Adrian tried to stop her.
“Meline.”
She picked it up.
It was an old photograph.
Norah.
Elena.
And Victor.
Standing together beside the grand piano.
On the back someone had written:
Ask Norah what happened at 11:47.
Meline looked at Adrian.
“What happened at 11:47?”
He stared at the photograph.
Then whispered:
May you like
“That’s the time Elena died.”
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