Chapter 8
Nico left the hospital two weeks later.
He refused applause.
Unfortunately, the staff ignored him.
Nurses lined the hallway.
So did physical therapists.
Even the cafeteria woman who slipped Wes extra pudding stood near the elevator with tears in her eyes.
Nico looked horrified.
“Why are they staring?”
“Because you survived.”
“I survived before.”
“No,” I said quietly. “Before, you endured. This is different.”
He looked at me.
Then at the people waiting.
His jaw tightened.
“Do I have to say something?”
“No.”
He exhaled.
“Good.”
Then Wes stepped forward with a paper crane.
He placed it on Nico’s lap.
“For not dying.”
Nico stared at it.
“That is very specific.”
“Addie says specific is good.”
Nico looked at me.
“Does she?”
I shrugged.
He held the crane carefully.
“Thank you, Wes.”
The estate had changed before we returned.
Rinaldi and Marcus made sure of it.
Every staff member was re-vetted.
Every camera restored.
Every medication replaced and logged through an outside pharmacy.
The pool house was locked as evidence.
The ballroom was closed.
The foyer had been cleaned, but I could still see where the slap had happened.
So could Nico.
His chair slowed when we crossed the marble.
I stopped behind him.
“You okay?”
“I hate that question.”
“I know.”
He stared at the spot where he had fallen.
“I heard them breathing.”
“Who?”
“Everyone. After she hit me. They all watched.”
I said nothing.
“They waited to see if I was still someone worth helping.”
My throat tightened.
“And what did they decide?”
“That I wasn’t.”
I moved beside him.
“I decided differently.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Yes,” he said. “You did.”
That evening, Sophie came by.
Not his daughter.
His younger sister.
Twenty-nine, sharp as broken glass, and furious that she had been kept away by Camille’s lies.
She rushed into the library and slapped Nico’s shoulder.
Not hard.
Enough to make him blink.
“You idiot.”
He stared at her.
“That’s your greeting?”
“You got engaged to a woman who tried to kill you.”
“I noticed.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“I called you for months.”
“I know.”
“She told me you didn’t want me upsetting you.”
“I know.”
“She said your doctors said family stress worsened your condition.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
“Why didn’t you call me back?”
Nico looked down.
For the first time, I saw the boss vanish.
Only the brother remained.
“I was ashamed.”
Sophie’s face changed.
“Of what?”
“This.”
He gestured to the chair.
His legs.
The life he had not chosen.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
Sophie knelt in front of him so fast he froze.
“I would rather see you in that chair than in a coffin.”
His face crumpled for half a second.
Then he pulled her into his arms.
I looked away.
Some moments deserved privacy even in a room full of people.
But Sophie reached for my hand before I could leave.
“You’re Adeline.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the nurse who stopped Camille.”
“I’m the nurse who happened to be closest.”
“No,” Sophie said. “I know this family. Closest rarely means bravest.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Wes would have said I was doing the mad-sad face.
So I looked down.
Sophie squeezed my hand.
“Thank you for giving me my brother back.”
That night, Nico asked to eat dinner in the kitchen.
Edna nearly dropped a pan.
“You hate the kitchen,” she said.
“I hate the formal dining room more.”
So we ate at the long wooden staff table.
Nico.
Sophie.
Wes.
Edna.
Marcus.
Me.
It was strange.
Messy.
Human.
Wes asked Nico if being rich meant never checking grocery prices.
Sophie choked on water.
Nico considered the question seriously.
“It means people hide the price from you.”
Wes frowned.
“That seems dangerous.”
Nico nodded.
“It is.”
After dinner, Nico wheeled himself to the back terrace.
I followed with his medication.
He watched me open the sealed package.
“You don’t have to show me every label.”
“Yes, I do.”
His eyes softened.
“Because of protocol?”
“Because trust rebuilds better with proof.”
He took the pills.
Then he looked out at the lake.
“Your brother’s surgery.”
I stiffened.
“What about it?”
“It’s scheduled for next month.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“I called the hospital administrator.”
“Nico.”
“I didn’t pressure anyone. I paid the outstanding balance through a charitable fund.”
My chest tightened.
“You can’t just—”
“I can.”
“That’s not the point.”
He turned.
“Then tell me the point.”
“I don’t want to owe you my brother’s life.”
His face changed.
“You don’t.”
“How can I not?”
“Because you saved mine first.”
The words landed softly.
Dangerously.
I looked away.
“I did my job.”
“No,” he said. “You did what everyone else was afraid to do.”
I held the medication cup too tightly.
“You make everything sound like a debt.”
“I don’t know another language yet.”
That honesty disarmed me.
I looked at him again.
“Then learn.”
May you like
He nodded once.
“I’m trying.”
