Chapter 2 - THE MEN OUTSIDE HIS DOOR
“Say that again.”
Daniel Reese did not blink.
“The accident may have been deliberately caused.”
The words hung between us beneath the fluorescent lights.
Hospitals are rarely silent.
There are monitors.
Carts.
Phones.
Footsteps.
Voices.
But somehow that hallway went quiet.
I looked through the narrow window in the door.
Detective Nobody—my ridiculous nickname for a critically injured stranger—was sitting upright, arguing with breakfast.
He had no idea that three feet away someone was suggesting another person had tried to kill him.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Reese hesitated.
“I’m not authorized to discuss that.”
“You just said someone might have tried to kill him.”
“We’re still determining what happened.”
“Then police should determine it.”
“They are.”
“And he deserves to know his identity.”
The younger man finally spoke.
“Knowing too soon could put him at risk.”
His name, I later learned, was Marcus Hill.
Former federal protection detail.
Current head of private security for a company neither man wanted to identify.
I crossed my arms.
“People don’t lose their rights because they lose their memories.”
Reese studied me.
“You care about him.”
“He’s my patient.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
I hated that he noticed.
Before I could answer, the door opened.
My patient looked between us.
“Morning.”
Then his eyes narrowed.
“Do I know you?”
Reese froze.
For one brief second, something resembling grief crossed his face.
Then it vanished.
“Yes,” he said.
The patient sat straighter.
“Good. What’s my name?”
Reese looked at me.
I looked back.
This was not my decision.
But neither was lying to him.
Reese entered the room.
“Your doctors believe memory should return gradually.”
“That’s fascinating.”
The patient’s voice hardened.
“What’s my name?”
Reese pulled a chair closer.
“You need to understand that some circumstances surrounding your accident remain unclear.”
“My name.”
“Adrian.”
Everything stopped.
The stranger repeated it.
“Adrian.”
His face revealed nothing.
Reese continued.
“Adrian Vale.”
He waited.
No recognition.
No relief.
Nothing.
“My name is Adrian Vale?”
“Yes.”
Adrian touched his chest as though expecting the name to physically belong there.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Daniel Reese. Your attorney.”
Adrian looked toward Marcus.
“And him?”
“Marcus Hill. Security.”
“Security for what?”
Daniel paused.
“Your company.”
Adrian gave a humorless laugh.
“I own a company?”
“You are executive chairman of Vale Meridian Group.”
Even I knew that name.
Vale Meridian appeared on financial news almost every week.
Hotels.
Technology.
Commercial real estate.
Private aviation.
Investment funds.
The corporation employed tens of thousands of people.
I looked at Adrian.
He looked equally stunned.
“You’re telling me I’m rich?”
Daniel’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
“How rich?”
“That is currently irrelevant.”
“It feels relevant.”
“Several billion dollars.”
Adrian stared at him.
Then he looked at me.
“Maya?”
“Yes?”
“I think I preferred Detective Nobody.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
So did he.
Only Reese didn’t.
Over the next hour, Adrian learned fragments of his life.
Thirty-six years old.
Unmarried.
No children.
His parents were dead.
His father had founded Vale Meridian.
Adrian had taken control seven years earlier.
He had a younger half-brother named Julian.
He lived outside the city.
He traveled constantly.
He was known publicly for being private.
Then Adrian asked a simple question.
“If I’m worth billions, why was I alone on Route 18 without identification?”
Daniel and Marcus exchanged a glance.
“We don’t know,” Marcus said.
Adrian caught it.
“You do know something.”
“We know your wallet and phone were not recovered at the crash site.”
“Were they stolen?”
“Possibly.”
“And you think the crash was intentional.”
Reese’s eyes moved toward me.
Adrian noticed.
“She stays.”
“Mr. Vale—”
“She saved my life.”
“It would be better to discuss corporate matters privately.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Do you want to leave?”
Professional instinct told me yes.
Curiosity told me absolutely not.
“I have rounds.”
Adrian nodded.
“Come back?”
The question was quiet.
Too personal.
I should have said that another nurse would check him.
Instead I said, “Later.”
The rest of my shift was chaos.
A child with pneumonia.
An elderly woman with a fractured wrist.
A construction worker who had put a nail through his hand and spent twenty minutes apologizing to everyone.
Still, my mind kept returning to Adrian Vale.
Near sunset, I checked his room.
He was alone.
Daniel and Marcus were gone.
A laptop rested on the table.
On-screen was a photograph.
Adrian stood on a stage beside a much younger man who shared his dark hair.
“Julian?” I asked.
“My brother.”
“Recognize him?”
“No.”
That answer sounded painful.
He closed the laptop.
“Apparently, the whole world knows me except me.”
“It may come back.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“We work with what you have.”
He studied me.
“You always say ‘we.’”
“You have doctors.”
“No.”
His eyes held mine.
“I mean you.”
My pulse shifted.
I turned toward his IV.
Before either of us could say more, a woman appeared in the doorway.
Beautiful.
Blonde.
Perfect coat.
Perfect makeup.
Perfect expression of devastation.
“Adrian.”
She rushed toward him.
His eyebrows drew together.
She took his face between her hands and kissed his forehead.
“Oh my God.”
Adrian remained motionless.
The woman turned to me.
“Why didn’t anyone call me immediately?”
“And you are?”
Her face changed.
“Celeste Whitmore.”
She looked almost offended.
“I’m Adrian’s fiancée.”
Adrian’s eyes widened.
“My what?”
Celeste turned slowly toward him.
For the first time, her confidence cracked.
“You don’t remember me?”
“No.”
She covered her mouth.
Then began to cry.
I stepped away.
This was no longer my place.
But just before I left, Adrian reached for my wrist.
“Maya.”
I looked down at his hand.
He whispered so quietly only I could hear.
May you like
“Don’t leave me alone with her.”
And the fear in his eyes was stronger than anything I had seen since the morning he woke up.
