Chapter 3 - The Photograph
By sunrise, the photograph had already reached Adrian’s enemy.
Victor Sloane studied it from the back seat of a black sedan.
Adrian Mercer.
Hospital.
Woman.
Vulnerability.
He enlarged the image until Claire’s sleeping face filled the screen.
“Who is she?”
The man beside him answered.
“Claire Bennett. Mercer’s nanny.”
Victor smiled.
“No.”
He zoomed in on Adrian’s expression.
“That’s not how a man looks at his nanny.”
Across Philadelphia, Claire woke against Adrian’s shoulder and jerked upright.
“Oh my God.”
Adrian glanced at her.
“You’ve said worse things after stepping on Ethan’s toy dinosaurs.”
“I fell asleep on you.”
“You were unconscious for forty-three minutes.”
“That is not better.”
A doctor approached before she could continue.
Lily was stable.
Barely.
The transplant needed to happen soon.
Claire closed her eyes.
Adrian watched her absorb the news.
Then she checked the time and shot to her feet.
“I have to go.”
“Where?”
“Work.”
Adrian stared at her.
“You mean my house?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going.”
Her expression sharpened.
“You’re firing me?”
“I’m ordering you to sleep.”
“You cannot order me to sleep.”
“I order armed men into gunfire.”
“And yet somehow you remain incapable of making a five-year-old eat broccoli.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Almost.
“Marcus will take you home.”
“No. I need clothes.”
“Your apartment?”
Claire hesitated.
That hesitation bothered him.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Where do you live?”
She gave him the address.
Marcus, standing behind Adrian, looked away too quickly.
Adrian noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Marcus.”
His security chief sighed.
“That neighborhood has had three armed robberies this month.”
Claire folded her arms.
“I’ve survived all three.”
Adrian looked at her.
“That was a joke.”
“Bad one.”
“It’s four-thirty in the morning.”
“Apparently poverty ruins comedic timing too.”
Twenty minutes later, Adrian’s car stopped outside Claire’s apartment building.
The entrance lock was broken.
A window on the first floor was boarded with plywood.
Adrian’s expression darkened.
“You live here?”
Claire opened the door.
“People do.”
He followed her inside.
“You don’t need to come up.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because the front door doesn’t lock.”
“It hasn’t locked since June.”
Adrian stopped climbing.
“June?”
Claire continued upstairs.
“Try not to have an aneurysm. Lily already has enough medical problems.”
Her apartment was tiny but spotless.
Two bedrooms.
A narrow kitchen.
Secondhand furniture.
A stack of medical envelopes covered half the table.
Then Adrian saw the refrigerator.
Ethan’s drawings were taped across it.
One showed three stick figures.
A small boy.
A blonde woman.
And a tall man in black.
Above them, in Ethan’s crooked handwriting:
MY FAMILY.
Adrian stopped breathing for a second.
Claire saw where he was looking.
“He drew that last month.”
“Why didn’t I see it?”
“He said it wasn’t finished.”
“What was missing?”
Claire’s expression softened.
“A smile on you.”
Adrian stared at the drawing.
The stick figure representing him now had a huge red smile.
“Did you draw that?”
“Ethan did.”
“I don’t smile like that.”
“No human being smiles like that.”
Adrian almost laughed.
Claire disappeared into her bedroom.
His phone vibrated.
Marcus.
“Problem.”
Adrian stepped toward the window.
“What?”
“Someone photographed you at the hospital.”
His face changed.
“Who?”
“Working on it.”
“Where is the photograph?”
“Private channels. One of our people intercepted it.”
Adrian looked toward Claire’s bedroom.
“Was Ethan mentioned?”
“Not yet.”
“Keep it that way.”
Claire emerged carrying a duffel bag.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
She immediately narrowed her eyes.
“You’re terrible at that.”
“At what?”
“Pretending nothing happened.”
He took her bag.
She tried to grab it back.
“I can carry that.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Claire.”
She released it.
“Fine.”
At the hospital entrance, Adrian stopped her.
“You’re taking three days off.”
“I can’t.”
“Paid.”
“That isn’t the problem. Ethan—”
“Will survive.”
“He has nightmares when his routine changes.”
Adrian knew.
“He asks for you.”
Claire’s face softened.
“Exactly.”
“Then I’ll bring him here after school.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You know where his school is?”
Adrian stared at her.
Claire winced.
“That came out mean.”
“It was accurate.”
He handed her the bag.
“I’ll handle Ethan.”
She studied him skeptically.
Then she nodded.
“Thank you.”
Adrian turned away.
“Mr. Mercer?”
He stopped.
Claire looked at him for a long moment.
“For sitting with me.”
His expression changed.
“No one should get news like that alone.”
Claire swallowed.
Neither noticed the sedan across the street.
Victor Sloane’s man photographed them again.
That afternoon, Adrian personally picked Ethan up from school for the first time in seven months.
Ethan climbed into the car and looked around.
“Where’s Claire?”
“At the hospital.”
The boy’s face changed immediately.
“Is she sick?”
“Her sister is.”
“Lily?”
Adrian glanced at him.
“You know Lily?”
“Claire talks about her.”
Of course she did.
His five-year-old knew more about Claire’s life than he did.
“Can we see her?”
“Yes.”
Ethan thought for a moment.
“Can we buy flowers?”
Adrian looked at his son.
“We can.”
“And sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches?”
“For Claire.”
Adrian’s throat tightened.
“Why?”
Ethan looked confused by the question.
“Because she gives me hers when I’m hungry.”
An hour later, Claire stepped out of Lily’s room.
She froze.
Ethan stood in the hallway holding an enormous bouquet nearly as large as his body.
Adrian stood behind him carrying a paper bag.
Ethan ran.
“Claire!”
She dropped to her knees.
He crashed into her arms.
Claire began crying.
Adrian looked away, giving her privacy.
Ethan whispered something.
Claire laughed through her tears.
Then he handed her the flowers.
“These are for Lily.”
“Thank you.”
“And Daddy brought you sandwiches.”
Adrian cleared his throat.
“Your son insisted.”
Ethan frowned.
“You said she needed food.”
Claire looked between them.
For the first time in days, she smiled.
A real smile.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a male voice.
“You should be careful accepting gifts from Adrian Mercer.”
Claire’s smile disappeared.
“Who is this?”
The voice continued.
“Especially when his enemies already know where your sister sleeps.”
The call ended.
Claire slowly lowered the phone.
Adrian saw her face.
“What happened?”
She looked toward Lily’s room.
Then at Ethan.
May you like
And whispered:
“They know.”
