Adrian leaned back in the chair beside my bed. For the first time, I noticed how tired he looked. The world knew him as a financial titan, a man whose company insured shipping lines, art collections, celebrities, politicians, private fortunes. But here, beneath the fluorescent hospital light, he looked like a man who had lost too much time and had arrived almost too late.
“I’m going to make sure you’re safe,” he said. “That is all you need to worry about tonight.”
“No,” I said.
The word came out faint, but it was mine.
His eyes returned to me.
“I spent five years letting Victor decide what I needed to worry about,” I said. “What I should know. Who I should see. How I should dress. What I should sign. I am done being protected by silence.”
Something flickered in Adrian’s face.
Respect, maybe.
Or regret.
He nodded once. “Fair enough.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and removed a slim phone. “Victor’s claim has been flagged. Not denied. Not approved. Flagged. Officially, the company requires additional verification because of the size of the policy and the circumstances of the reported accident.”
“Does he know that?”
“He knows there is a review.”
“He’ll get nervous.”
“He already is.”
“How do you know?”
Adrian hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than his words.
“Because you’re watching him,” I said.
“We are preserving information,” he corrected.
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped me. It turned into pain so sharp my eyes
