Chapter 7 - A NURSE WHO REFUSED THE KING
The first time Julian offered Emma money, he placed a check on the table between them.
She looked at the number.
Then at him.
Then back at the number.
"Are you serious?"
Julian folded his hands.
"Your brother has been missing for seven years. You've spent money on searches, attorneys, and private investigators. This could help."
Emma stared at him.
"You're offering me half a million dollars."
"Yes."
"For what?"
"For the suffering your family experienced."
She pushed the check back.
"You don't get to put a price on seven years."
His expression changed.
"That wasn't my intention."
"Then don't do it again."
For a moment, Julian looked almost offended.
Not because she'd refused.
Because nobody usually refused anything he offered.
Then he nodded.
"Fair enough."
Emma stood.
"If you want to help, cooperate fully with the investigators. Release any records your companies have. And stop allowing your bodyguards to decide which laws apply to you."
Julian looked up.
"That's quite a list."
"I'm a nurse. Lists are how we survive."
He smiled faintly.
Then grew serious.
"You're right."
Emma hesitated.
She had expected an argument.
Julian continued.
"I've spent years believing I could protect people by keeping everything inside my organization."
"And?"
"I've started understanding how often that protected the wrong people."
Emma looked at him.
"Then change it."
He nodded.
"I intend to."
That evening, Emma received a call from Saint Agnes's director of nursing.
"Emma, we need to discuss your employment."
Her stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"There's been a complaint."
"About what?"
"Your involvement with Mr. Vescari."
Emma closed her eyes.
The complaint alleged that she had shared confidential information with a patient outside appropriate professional channels.
It also suggested she had improperly accessed records relating to the forged transfer.
Emma was furious.
She had reported the unauthorized entries.
She had cooperated with security.
And now someone was using the incident to threaten her career.
"Who filed it?"
The director hesitated.
"Dr. Victoria Vescari."
Emma stared.
"She's not my supervisor."
"No. But she's a member of the hospital's charitable advisory board."
A cold feeling spread through Emma's chest.
Julian's aunt.
The woman connected to Aster.
The same woman whose name appeared in the photograph of Noah.
"Then I want a formal, impartial review," Emma said.
"And I want every audit log preserved."
By Friday, Emma had been placed on paid administrative leave while the hospital investigated.
Dr. Chen protested.
Her coworkers signed a letter supporting her professionalism.
But Emma was ordered not to return to clinical duties until the review concluded.
She stood outside the hospital holding a small tote bag.
Seven years earlier, Noah had disappeared after reporting wrongdoing.
Now Emma was being pushed out for asking questions.
She stared at the entrance.
Then laughed bitterly.
The timing was almost too perfect.
Julian found out that afternoon.
He called immediately.
"Emma, I heard what happened."
"Good for you."
"I can speak with the hospital board."
"No."
"Victoria shouldn't be allowed to—"
"No, Julian."
Silence.
She took a breath.
"I need you to hear me."
"I'm listening."
"My career belongs to me. My complaint will be handled by the appropriate professional process. You don't get to fix it by threatening trustees or buying influence."
He was silent for several seconds.
Then answered.
"You're right."
Emma closed her eyes.
The apology came next.
"I'm sorry. I keep trying to solve problems in the only way I've ever known."
She swallowed.
"Then learn another way."
Later that evening, Julian sent one message.
I won't interfere with your employment case. I've given my attorneys permission to cooperate with the independent investigation into Victoria's activities.
Emma read it twice.
Then another message appeared.
And for what it's worth, I admire you.
She stared at the screen.
It was the first time he had said something personal without trying to turn it into a deal.
She didn't know what to do with it.
So she put down her phone.
At 10:42 p.m., her doorbell rang.
Emma approached cautiously.
A uniformed courier stood outside.
He carried a sealed envelope.
Inside was a hospital bracelet.
Old.
Faded.
The printed name read:
DANIEL REED.
Below it was a room number.
SAINT CATHERINE'S — EAST WING 412.
Emma's fingers trembled.
Then she found the handwritten note.
Emma,
I don't have much time.
If you still remember the song Mom used to sing when the lights went out, bring the words.
They'll tell you I'm not Noah.
Don't believe them.
She covered her mouth.
Because there was only one person who knew that song.
May you like
Her brother.
And for the first time in seven years, he was asking her to come find him.
