PART 2 — The Locked Room
The silence in the penthouse stretched thin.
Adrian didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
“Take me to him.”
Celeste hesitated.
It was subtle—barely a second—but Adrian saw it.
“My husband is resting,” she said. “He doesn’t need—”
“I wasn’t asking.”
Graham stepped forward, already moving toward the hallway.
Celeste didn’t block them this time.
That told Adrian everything.
Harold Vale’s bedroom door was closed.
Adrian pushed it open without knocking.
The room was dim, curtains drawn against the gray afternoon. Machines didn’t beep—there were no hospital monitors, no proper medical setup. Just a man in a bed that was too still.
Too quiet.
“Father?”
No response.
Mara hovered in the doorway, her breath shallow.
Adrian crossed the room and touched Harold’s wrist.
A pulse.
Weak.
But there.
“Why isn’t he on monitored care?” Adrian asked, voice cold.
No one answered.
Graham stepped closer. “Medication tray is incomplete.”
Adrian turned.
Celeste stood in the doorway now.
Watching.
“Explain,” Adrian said.
“He refused treatment,” she replied. “He wanted peace.”
May you like
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Or he wasn’t given a choice.”
