Chapter 2 - THE PRICE OF A LITTLE LAUGH
The study door closed behind Maren with a soft, expensive click.
Adrian Castellane stood beside the fireplace. He had removed his dinner jacket, but the white shirt beneath it was still immaculate. His scotch sat untouched on the desk.
He did not offer her a chair.
“Do you know why I asked you here?”
Maren folded her hands in front of her apron. “No, sir.”
“My daughter laughed tonight.”
“I’m glad.”
“She hasn't laughed in eight months.”
Maren lowered her eyes. “I didn't do anything special.”
“That is not what I asked.”
She looked up.
Adrian's face was controlled, but his right hand had closed around the edge of the desk. The knuckles were pale.
“Why did you approach her?”
“Because she was watching everyone dance.”
“She watches people do many things.”
“She looked lonely.”
“People in this house are paid to do their jobs. Not to decide what my daughter needs.”
Maren accepted the rebuke without flinching. “Then perhaps someone should have asked her.”
His gaze sharpened.
A quiet movement came from the doorway. Victor Hale, Adrian's security chief, stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Shall I remove her, sir?”
Adrian did not turn.
“No.”
Victor's expression barely changed, but Maren saw his eyes move toward her.
Adrian pulled a thin folder from the desk.
“Maren Ashby. Twenty-seven. No husband. No children. Your mother has advanced kidney disease. Your apartment is two months behind on rent. You owe twenty-one thousand dollars in medical expenses.”
Maren felt her stomach tighten.
“You investigated me.”
“I know who works in my house.”
“You know what is written on paper,” she replied. “That isn't the same as knowing me.”
For the first time, something close to surprise crossed his face.
He opened the folder.
“Your sister was Theresa Ashby. Tess.”
Maren's expression changed.
“Don't.”
“She worked at St. Catherine's Pediatric Rehabilitation Center.”
“I said don't.”
“She died eight months ago.”
Maren's throat tightened. “You have no right to bring her into this.”
Adrian watched her carefully.
“Your sister worked with my daughter.”
The room seemed to lose its warmth.
Maren looked at him.
“What?”
“Tess was part of Elena's rehabilitation team. She was dismissed shortly before the accident that left my daughter unable to walk.”
Maren's fingers went cold.
“Tess never told me she worked for your family.”
“She was under a confidentiality agreement.”
“She was my sister. She told me everything that mattered.”
“Apparently not.”
Maren stepped back.
Tess had spent the final months of her life exhausted and frightened. She had said that a little girl needed help, that a powerful family was making it impossible to tell the truth, and that she was afraid someone would destroy the evidence.
Maren had believed it was the stress of hospital work.
Three weeks later, Tess was killed in a hit-and-run.
The police called it an accident.
Maren had never believed them.
“Why was she dismissed?” she asked.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“The clinic said she violated patient protocol.”
“What protocol?”
“I don't know.”
“Then you should have asked.”
“I did. I was told she had become unstable and obsessed with my daughter's case.”
Maren let out a small, bitter breath.
“That sounds familiar.”
Adrian moved around the desk.
“Tell me what she said.”
“She said a child was being made to believe she was broken. She said the wrong people were making decisions about that child's treatment.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“Did she mention Elena?”
“She never gave me the child's name.”
“Did she leave you anything?”
Maren hesitated.
In her bedroom, beneath a loose floorboard, lay a small envelope Tess had given her two days before she died. Maren had not opened it. She had been afraid that whatever was inside would make the loss real.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Adrian studied her for a long moment.
Then he placed a second document on the desk.
“I want you to work directly with Elena.”
Maren blinked.
“As what?”
“Her companion. You will spend time with her, read to her, help her communicate, and accompany her during approved therapy sessions. You will not attempt medical treatment without her doctors.”
“Why me?”
“Because she trusted you tonight.”
“And if she doesn't tomorrow?”
“Then you will respect that.”
Maren looked at the proposed salary.
It was more money than she had ever earned. Enough to pay her mother's treatment bills, clear the rent, and give them a chance to breathe.
But there was another line in the contract.
A strict confidentiality clause.
“No,” she said.
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“You haven't read the full agreement.”
“I don't need to. If you want me to help your daughter, I won't sign something that prevents me from protecting her.”
Victor shifted by the door.
Adrian remained still.
“What would you change?”
“Any concern about Elena's safety must be reportable to an independent doctor or the proper authorities. No one should be allowed to silence a caregiver.”
Adrian looked at her for several seconds.
Then he picked up a pen and crossed out the clause.
“Agreed.”
Maren signed.
As she turned to leave, Adrian spoke again.
“One more thing.”
She stopped.
“Did Tess ever tell you about a silver bracelet?”
Maren's hand went instinctively to the thin bracelet around her wrist.
It had belonged to her sister.
Adrian noticed.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Tess gave it to me.”
He stepped closer.
“Take it off.”
Maren backed away.
“No.”
Adrian stared at the small silver chain, then at her face.
“Your sister wore that bracelet the last time she visited my daughter.”
Maren's heart began to pound.
“What are you saying?”
May you like
Adrian's voice dropped.
“I'm saying she may have left something inside it.”
