Chapter 8: The Wife He Buried

The elevator doors did not close. 

Singh jammed her boot between them. The metal groaned. Her gun was up and on Julian before he could push the plunger on the syringe. 

“Drop it,” she said. “Now.” 

Julian smiled. The cut on his face from the vest shot at the quarry had scabbed black. 

“You shoot me, Detective, and you have twenty witnesses saying you executed a man in a hospital lobby. You think Judge Harmon will let Mrs. Kade keep a medical proxy after that?” His eyes slid to me. “Choose, Isla. Sign it. Or I make him bleed out right here. Again.” 

The syringe was still at Roman’s neck. One twitch and whatever was inside would hit his carotid. He had just been stitched. He would not survive another coma. 

Roman did not look at Julian. He looked at me. Calm. Like we were back in ICU Room 7 and he was asking me to trust him. Do you trust me? 

I did. God help me, I did. 

“I will sign,” I said. 

“Isla, no,” Roman said. His voice was low. Warning. 

Julian pulled a folded paper from his jacket. Medical proxy transfer. My name crossed out. His written in. 

“Smart girl. Just like your mother.” 

My mother. 

The air left my lungs. My mother had told Julian I was too broken to choose. My mother had let me believe my dad died of a heart attack. My mother had given Julian my psychiatric eval from seventeen. She was not protecting me. She was protecting him. 

Roman saw it hit me. His jaw locked. “Julian.” 

“Sign it,” Julian said to me. “Or I end the Kade line right now.” 

I took the pen. It was cold. Roman’s hand closed over mine. Not to stop me. To steady me. His blood from the torn IV was still on my fingers. On both of us. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. Only I could hear. “Not the paper. Me.” 

I looked. His eyes were not afraid. They were calculating. The strategic part of him that used to run Kade Technologies was awake. He was not waiting to be saved. He was planning. 

That was the attraction. Not the kiss in Room 7. Not the bleeding for me. The way he trusted me to see the plan before he said it. 

I exhaled. I let my hand shake. 

“Okay,” I said to Julian. Loud enough for the witnesses. “I will sign. But only if you answer one question.” 

Julian’s grip on the syringe loosened a fraction. “What?” 

“Why did my mom help you?” 

His smile widened. “Because she owes my brother. Or she did, before you married him.” 

Brother. 

Roman went still. 

Singh said, “Julian Kade, step away from the patient.” 

“Patient?” Julian laughed. “He is not a patient. He is a placeholder. My brother was always the favorite. Even after Roman buried him. Even after he faked that heart attack.” 

The lobby went quiet. Twenty people. Twenty phones. All hearing this. 

Roman’s father was not just alive. He was Julian’s brother. And my mother owed him. 

The clues clicked. The flash drive I kept from fourteen that I thought held music. My dad told me never to lose it. My mom panicked when I asked about it after the crash. It was not music. It was evidence. And my mother knew. 

“You used her,” Roman said. His voice was ice. “You used Isla’s mom to control her. To control me.” 

“I used everyone,” Julian said. “Your father started it. I just finished it. He wanted you to suffer, Roman. He told me to make sure you married her so when he came back, he would have leverage. A wife with a head injury. A wife who could be declared unfit. A wife whose mother would testify to anything to keep her secrets.” 

Secrets. 

My mom’s secret was not just the crash. It was Vegas. She knew we got married. She let Roman believe he was protecting me alone. She let me believe I was worthless. Because if I remembered, I would ask about the flash drive. And if I asked about the flash drive, I would find out what was really on it. 

“Enough,” Singh said. “Hands up. Now.” 

Julian pressed the syringe harder. A bead of blood appeared on Roman’s neck. 

“Sign,” Julian said to me. “Or I tell everyone here what your mother did the night your father died.” 

My hand tightened on the pen. Roman’s fingers flexed over mine. One tap. Two. 

Morse code. He had taught me in high school when he was supposed to be bullying me. Dots and dashes carved into the desk when no one was looking. Trust. Me. 

I looked at the syringe. At the twenty witnesses. At Singh’s gun. Then I looked at Roman. And I dropped the pen. 

It hit the elevator floor with a sound like a gunshot. 

Julian was startled. Just a fraction. It was enough. 

Roman moved. He was still weak, still bleeding, but he was fast. He drove his elbow back into Julian’s ribs, the same place Singh’s bullet had hit the vest. Julian gasped. The syringe dropped. Singh kicked it away and had Julian on the ground with a knee in his back before the elevator could die again. 

“Mrs. Kade,” she said, cuffing him. “You want to press charges?” 

I was not Mrs. Kade. Not really. Not yet. But I looked at Roman. He was standing on his own. Pale. Breathing hard. Alive. 

“Yes,” I said. “I do.” 

Julian laughed into the tile. “You think this is over? You think he is the only one who came back?” 

Singh hauled him up. “Read him his rights.” 

Two officers took Julian. The lobby erupted. Phones came out. People were already uploading. 

Roman swayed. I caught him again. Always catching him. 

“You planned that,” I said into his chest. 

“I hoped,” he said. “You dropped the pen exactly when I needed it.” 

“You taught me Morse code when you were supposed to be making me cry.” 

“I was making sure you could call for help if he ever locked you in a room.” 

I pulled back. “Your father is alive.” 

“I know.” 

“And my mom helped him.” 

“I know.” 

“So what is on that flash drive?” 

Roman’s face went blank. The strategic mask. “Isla.” 

“Do not lie to me,” I said. “Not now. Not after that.” 

He touched my cheek. His thumb was still bloody. “I do not know. I swear. I only know my father wanted it. And your dad died for it.” 

That was the uncertainty. My dad died for a flash drive I had kept in a shoebox for fourteen years thinking it was my favorite song. 

Singh came back. “We need to get you both out of here. If Julian was right, and his brother is alive, this place is not safe.” 

“Where?” I asked. 

“The Kade estate,” Roman said. “It has panic rooms. And it is the one thing my father cannot walk away from.” 

“What?” 

“His name on the deed. If he shows up, we can prove he faked his death. Insurance fraud. Federal.” 

Singh nodded. “I will get a team. You two get cleaned up. And Monroe, call your mom. If she is involved, I need to know before she lawyers up.” 

My mom. Who let me think I was broken. Who owed a dead man. 

I pulled my phone out. Twenty missed calls. All from her. The last voicemail had come in two minutes ago. While Julian had a syringe to Roman’s neck. 

I hit play. Her voice was shaking. 

“Isla, baby, please. Do not go to the estate. He is already there. He has been there since Roman woke up. He told me if I did not stop you, he would finish what he started with your dad. Isla, I am sorry. I am so sorry. I did not know he was still—” 

The message was cut off. 

I looked at Roman. He looked at the elevator. At the blood on the floor. On my phone. 

“He is already there,” I said. 

Roman’s eyes went dark. Not with fear. With the thing that made

Julian afraid of him. 

“Then we are going home,” he said. 

Home. The Kade estate. Where his father killed my dad. Where his father was waiting for us now.