Chapter 9 - THE HOSPITAL ROOM
Nathan Price was gone when we arrived.
His hospital room was empty.
The sheets were still warm.
An IV bag hung beside the bed.
A nurse insisted she had seen nobody enter.
Security footage showed otherwise.
At 5:42 a.m., Damian walked into the private elevator.
At 5:51, he left.
At 5:53, Nathan's monitoring equipment disconnected.
Rebecca watched the recording twice.
"Where's the footage from inside the floor?"
The administrator swallowed.
"Deleted."
"By whom?"
"We're checking."
Mom examined the room.
Her attention stopped at the window.
A tiny mark had been drawn into the condensation.
Three letters.
E.H.T.
Dad saw them.
"What does that mean?"
Mom didn't answer.
I noticed.
"You know."
She looked at me.
"Evelyn Hale Thomas."
"What?"
"My maiden name."
I stared.
"You were a Thomas?"
"Before I was adopted."
Dad looked confused too.
Mom sat.
"My biological father was Richard Thomas."
"Related to Uncle Thomas?"
"No."
She shook her head.
"At least I never thought so."
The room seemed to become colder.
Nathan had left those initials deliberately.
A message.
A warning.
Rebecca received an alert.
"They found Nathan."
"Where?"
"Parking garage."
He was alive.
Barely conscious.
No major injuries.
But sedated.
Someone had injected him with a strong tranquilizer and left him inside an unlocked car.
His pockets were empty.
The archive files were gone.
When Nathan woke several hours later, he asked for me.
Not Mom.
Not Dad.
Me.
"You can't trust the family tree," he whispered.
"What does that mean?"
His eyes struggled to focus.
"Thomas Hale wasn't Victor's brother."
I stared.
"Yes, he was."
"No."
Nathan swallowed.
"Half brother."
"So?"
"His mother wasn't your grandmother."
My frustration rose.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because his mother was Margaret Cross."
I stopped breathing.
Cross.
Nathan continued.
"Before she married your grandfather, Margaret had been engaged to Damian's grandfather."
I stared at him.
"You're saying the families were connected?"
"More than connected."
He closed his eyes.
"Thomas was the bridge."
Mom stepped closer.
"Who ran the network after Thomas died?"
Nathan looked toward the door.
Terrified.
"You still don't understand."
His hand closed around my wrist.
"The network didn't pass to Malcolm."
"Then who?"
"Someone closer."
The monitor beside him began beeping faster.
"Nathan."
He forced his eyes open.
"Someone who attended Evelyn's funeral."
Dozens of people had attended.
"Who?"
Before he could answer, a nurse rushed in.
His blood pressure was dropping.
We were pushed out.
In the hall, I saw Dad staring at an old photograph on his phone.
Mom noticed.
"What?"
He enlarged it.
My mother's funeral.
Fourteen years ago.
Victor.
Me.
Lydia.
Malcolm.
Nathan.
Employees.
Board members.
Family friends.
Then Dad enlarged a face near the back.
An older woman wearing black.
My grandmother.
Rose Hale.
Dad's mother.
She had died nine years ago.
Mom looked at the picture.
Then whispered,
"Victor..."
"What?"
"Your mother told me something the week before my crash."
His face changed.
"What did she tell you?"
May you like
Mom looked directly at him.
"That if anything happened to her, I should never trust the Hale family."
