Chapter 8 - THE COMPLAINT MY MOTHER LEFT BEHIND
My mother had been dead six months.
Yet somehow, a complaint in her name had reached investigators three weeks ago.
I gripped the radio.
“That’s impossible.”
The operator clarified.
The complaint had been submitted through an attorney acting on instructions contained in a sealed file.
A delayed release.
My mother had prepared for the possibility she would die before anyone believed her.
I sat on the security-room floor.
For a moment, I couldn’t move.
Adrian lowered himself beside me.
“Nora.”
I looked down.
“She knew.”
My voice broke.
“She knew she was dying.”
He didn't answer.
“She knew someone was doing it to her.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“And she still never told me.”
Adrian’s expression softened.
“She was trying to protect you.”
I turned on him.
“Don't say that.”
He stopped.
“Everyone keeps using that word.”
My voice shook.
“Elena protected you by hiding evidence.”
“Mom protected me by hiding the truth.”
“You protected Elena by controlling everything around her.”
“And look what happened.”
Adrian flinched.
I immediately regretted the cruelty.
But I didn't take it back.
Because part of it was true.
He looked toward the dark monitors.
“I know.”
The answer was so quiet it hurt.
Then he whispered, “Elena told me once that I confused protection with possession.”
I swallowed.
“She was right.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
He didn't defend himself.
He simply accepted it.
That was new.
We stayed in silence until his breathing worsened.
I checked his pulse.
Too fast.
His skin was burning.
I needed to reduce the fever safely, monitor his breathing, and keep him hydrated if he could tolerate fluids.
But the unknown injected substance complicated everything.
I wouldn't guess at treatment beyond basic supportive care.
The emergency team needed to reach us.
Then a security monitor flickered.
One external camera returned.
A figure moved near the rear gate.
Damian.
He was trying to reach a snow vehicle stored in the maintenance shed.
A second figure appeared behind him.
Marcus.
I stared.
“They're together.”
Adrian looked at the screen.
“No.”
“What?”
“Watch.”
Marcus raised a gun.
At Damian.
My stomach dropped.
Damian stopped.
Even through the grainy camera, I could see them arguing.
Then Marcus fired.
The screen flashed white from the snow.
Damian collapsed.
I covered my mouth.
Adrian stared.
“Marcus is cleaning up.”
My blood ran cold.
If Marcus was willing to shoot Adrian's brother—
“He's coming back.”
Adrian nodded.
I looked around the security room.
One reinforced door.
No weapons I wanted to use.
A medical cabinet.
Fire extinguishers.
Security controls.
Then I noticed the estate lockdown panel.
“Can we seal sections of the house?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I began pressing controls.
Steel fire doors lowered through the east wing.
Service corridors locked.
Interior gates activated.
For once, Adrian's obsession with security became useful.
He almost smiled.
“You learn quickly.”
“I've been cleaning this mansion for months. I know where everything is.”
The words hit him.
His expression changed.
“You do.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. Say it.”
He swallowed.
“I judged you before you did a single thing.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
I stared.
He looked directly at me.
“I was cruel.”
The apology was simple.
No excuses.
No mention of Elena.
No attempt to make grief responsible for his behavior.
I nodded.
“You were.”
Then a pounding sound echoed against the reinforced corridor door.
Marcus.
He had reached us.
A moment later his voice came through the intercom.
“Adrian, open the door.”
Adrian looked toward the speaker.
Marcus continued.
“Damian is dead.”
Silence.
May you like
Then he said something that made Adrian's face change.
“And if you don't open this door, Nora will learn what you did to her mother before I ever touched her.”
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