‘Phone.’
‘You said it was in a safe.’
He managed a tiny nod.
‘Office.
Painting.’
‘What am I looking for?’
‘Recording.’
Before I could ask more, someone knocked.
The nurse entered when I unlocked the door.
She checked Ethan’s pulse, blood pressure, pupils.
I watched her face closely.
‘Has anything changed?’ I asked.
‘Not significantly.’
‘Could he wake suddenly?’
She hesitated.
‘Neurological recovery can be unpredictable.’
‘Would everyone be told immediately?’
Her eyes lifted to mine.
‘Medical information should go through the authorized family channels.’
‘Which channels?’
Another hesitation.
‘Mrs.
Thornton, I think you should discuss that with Mrs.
Vivian Thornton.’
It was not an answer.
That evening, I found Ethan’s office.
Jason found me there first.
He stood in the doorway with one hand in his pocket.
‘Lost?’
‘I was looking for the library.’
‘Wrong wing.’
He did not believe me.
His gaze slid toward the large landscape painting behind Ethan’s desk.
Then back to me.
I smiled as if I had noticed nothing.
Jason stepped closer.
‘Claire, you and I should understand each other.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘Your father owed more money than he admitted.’
My stomach tightened.
Jason continued calmly.
‘The arrangement rescued him from consequences he created.
It also gave you a life you could never have bought yourself.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Simplicity.’
He reached into his jacket and placed a thin folder on Ethan’s desk.
‘Tomorrow a physician will review Ethan’s condition.
After that, there may be decisions requiring your signature.’
There it was.
The thing Ethan had predicted.
I did not touch the folder.
‘What decisions?’
‘Routine matters.’
‘Then you won’t mind if my attorney reads them.’
Jason’s smile disappeared.
‘Your attorney?’
