Chapter 14

My fingers trembled so hard I could barely hold the note.

The words blurred as my tears fell onto the page, bleeding the ink into tiny blue rivers.

The paper felt thin, fragile, like my entire world. My father’s hand lay limp beside it, pale against the white hospital sheet.

“Dad,” I whispered, shaking his arm gently. “Dad, wake up. Please, wake up.”

No response.

His breathing was steady, but faint. The rhythmic beep of the monitor was the only sound filling the sterile air. I pressed the nurse call button, but my hand was shaking too badly to even hold it down.

When the nurse rushed in, I stepped back, clutching the note behind me.

“He’s fine,” she said after checking his vitals. “Just sleeping deeply. You should get some rest too, Miss Riley.”

Rest. The word felt like a cruel joke.

I nodded anyway, forcing a weak smile, and waited until she left before sinking into the chair beside him. My heart was pounding, my palms damp.

He lied to protect himself.

Who was he?

Was it Daniel? Or Pierce? Or… was it my father?

I stared at the note until the words seemed to burn into my mind.

Outside, rain hammered against the window, streaking down in relentless sheets. The city lights blurred into dull, bleeding halos. Everything looked distorted and unreal.

I folded the note and tucked it inside my pocket, as if hiding it could somehow make it less terrifying.

Hours passed without me realizing. I just sat there, watching my father sleep, listening to the machines hum.

When the door finally opened again, I jumped.

Daniel stood in the doorway, his shoulders damp from the rain. His suit jacket clung to him, and his hair was wet, a few strands falling across his forehead.

“Jane,” he said softly. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

The sight of him made my chest twist. Part of me wanted to scream. Another part wanted to run to him, to bury my face against his chest and pretend none of this was happening.

But I didn’t move.

“What are you doing here?” My voice came out sharper than I meant.

He took a slow step inside, eyes flicking from me to my father. “I heard what happened. I wanted to check on you.”

“I don’t need you to check on me,” I snapped. “You should go.”

He sighed, brushing a hand through his wet hair. “Jane, please. I just want to help.”

“Help?” I laughed bitterly. “Like you helped before? Like when you disappeared for years and came back with half-truths and secrets?”

He flinched but didn’t leave. “I didn’t disappear to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” I demanded. “Why did you leave, Daniel? Why do you keep showing up every time my life falls apart?”

His gaze dropped to the floor, jaw tightening. “Because every time your life falls apart, Pierce is behind it.”

The name hit me like a slap.

Pierce.

The man with the polished smile and eyes like cold steel. The man who had threatened me, my work, and everything I loved.

But Daniel’s tone wasn’t filled with anger this time. It was laced with heartbreak.

“You think he’s behind this?” I whispered. “Even my father’s accident?”

“I know he is,” Daniel said quietly. “I just can’t prove it yet.”

The rain outside grew louder, wind whistling against the windowpane. My pulse raced.

I wanted to believe him. God, I did. But the note in my pocket felt like a brand against my skin.

He lied to protect himself.

Was this another lie? Another half-truth wrapped in guilt and charm?

I took a shaky breath. “You should leave, Daniel.”

He looked at me for a long moment, rainwater still dripping from his hair. “If you won’t let me help you,” he said finally, “then at least let me protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” I whispered. “I need the truth.”

He didn’t answer. He just nodded once, pain flickering across his face, and turned toward the door.

When he was gone, I pressed both hands over my face and let out a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a scream.

That night, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the hospital.

The corridors were dim and quiet, the air heavy with disinfectant. I walked down to the cafeteria, bought coffee I didn’t drink, and came back to sit by my father’s bed.

His face looked peaceful, too peaceful, like he was already halfway somewhere else.

I leaned forward, brushing my fingers over his hand. “What did you mean, Dad?” I whispered. “Who lied? Was it Daniel? Or was it you?”

The silence answered me like a void.

A nurse came in at one point to check his IV. I pretended to sleep, not wanting her to see my red eyes.

When she left, I stood by the window, watching the city flicker through the fog. Somewhere out there, Pierce was probably asleep in his penthouse, untouched by all this pain.

And Daniel… somewhere in the same city, chasing ghosts.

By morning, my coffee was cold. My eyes burned. I decided to go downstairs and get some fresh air.

The lobby was nearly empty, just a few nurses chatting quietly at the desk. As I walked toward the door, a security guard, the one who had nodded to me a few times over the past week, stepped away from the wall.

“Miss Riley?” he said, glancing around before leaning in slightly. “Someone wanted me to give this to you.”

He handed me a plain brown envelope. No name, no markings.

My stomach tightened.

“Who gave it to you?” I asked.

He looked uneasy. “I don’t know. It was in the security drop box this morning with your name on it.”

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the flap. My heart thudded against my ribs.

He lowered his voice. “You might want to open it somewhere private.”

The mix of caution and urgency in his voice made my hands shake.

“Thank you,” I murmured, and slipped the envelope into my bag.

I went back upstairs, every step feeling heavier than the last.

In my father’s room, I closed the door and sat down. The envelope crackled as I tore it open.

Inside was a USB drive and a single note in block letters:

“Security Footage — Room 214, 3:17 A.M.”

I stared at it, heart hammering in my chest.

3:17 A.M.

That was less than two hours before I arrived.

With trembling fingers, I pulled out my laptop and plugged in the drive.

The file blinked open. The grainy black-and-white image showed my father’s hospital room — quiet, still.

Then, at 3:17 A.M., the door opened.

A figure stepped inside.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Wearing a hooded jacket.

The person moved to my father’s bed, stood there for several seconds… then leaned forward, as if whispering something.

The camera caught no face, just a glimpse of a gloved hand — and a reflection in the window.

A flash of light. A shape that looked almost… familiar.

I froze the frame, leaning closer. My pulse was in my throat.

It couldn’t be.

But it looked like—

I slammed the laptop shut, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Outside the room, I heard footsteps.

Someone was coming.

I stuffed the USB back into my bag, grabbed my jacket, and turned just as the door handle started to move.

My voice caught in my throat as the door creaked open.