Chapter 15

Standing there, shadowed by the pale morning light, was Daniel.

Only this time, his expression wasn’t gentle.

It was cold. Controlled.

And in his hand… he was holding another envelope.

For a long, breathless moment, I couldn’t move. The air between us felt charged, tight, and humming like the space right before lightning strikes.

Daniel stood just inside the doorway, his hair still damp from the rain outside, the faintest sheen of sweat on his brow.

He looked exhausted, like someone who hadn’t slept in days. But there was something else too, something sharper in his eyes.

He held out the envelope. “You left this in the lobby yesterday,” he said quietly.

His voice was calm, careful, as if he knew how close I was to breaking.

I didn’t take it. My hands were balled into fists at my sides. “What’s in it?”

He hesitated. “Documents from Pierce’s board. They might help your foundation.”

His tone was even, but I caught the flicker of tension in his jaw, the same one that used to appear whenever he was lying.

My pulse raced. “Really? Because it looks a lot like the envelope someone just left me downstairs.”

His brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

I took a slow step backward, my back brushing against the edge of my father’s hospital bed. “Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t play dumb, Daniel. Not now.”

He blinked. “Jane, I don’t understand…”

“You were here,” I cut in, my voice shaking. “Last night. At three seventeen in the morning.”

For the first time, his composure cracked. “What?”

I fumbled with my bag, pulling out the brown envelope and the USB drive.

My hands trembled so violently that the plastic slipped between my fingers. “Someone left this for me. There’s footage. From the hospital cameras.”

Daniel’s face drained of color.

“Jane,” he said softly, stepping toward me, “what did you see?”

“Someone came into this room,” I said. “Someone stood right where you’re standing now. Over my father.” My voice broke. “And that person looked like you.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Daniel’s throat moved as he swallowed, his voice quiet but firm. “It wasn’t me.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.” His tone hardened now. “Because if it had been me, I wouldn’t have left without talking to you.”

Something inside me twisted. His words were too calm, too measured, exactly the way they’d been the day he’d walked out of my life years ago.

He took another step closer. I could see the faint scar above his eyebrow, the one I’d once kissed after a late-night charity gala, when everything between us had still been simple.

“You think I could ever hurt you or your father?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I whispered. “You keep showing up with secrets and half-answers. I don’t even know who you are, Daniel.”

For a moment, I thought he might yell. But instead, he just sighed, running a hand through his hair, eyes closing briefly.

Then, softer, almost like a plea: “Then let me prove who I am.”

We sat in the hospital cafeteria a few minutes later, both of us clutching steaming cups of coffee that neither of us drank. The morning light came in gray and thin through the glass, washing out the color of everything.

I set the laptop between us and opened the file again.

The footage started playing, the same grainy black-and-white video of my father’s room. The same shadowed figure was entering.

Daniel leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he watched.

“Pause it,” he said suddenly.

I froze the frame just as the figure turned toward the window.

He leaned closer, squinting. “That’s not me.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked.

“Because of the left hand,” he said. “Whoever this is, they’re wearing a ring on the index finger. I don’t wear rings. Not anymore.”

My eyes darted to his hand. He was right. The space around his ring finger was pale and bare, a faint mark where his wedding band had once been

Something in my chest shifted, uncertainty creeping in.

But before I could respond, Daniel pulled out his phone. “This footage, it’s been altered.”

“What?”

He nodded, tapping the screen. “There’s distortion along the edges. Look, here.” He pointed to a faint glitch, a flicker of light near the timestamp. “This isn’t raw footage. It’s been looped or spliced.”

I stared at the screen. The idea that someone had tampered with hospital security footage made my stomach drop.

“Who would even have access to that?” I asked.

His expression hardened. “Pierce.”

The name hit like a curse.

“You think he’s behind this?” I whispered.

“I don’t think,” Daniel said. “I know.”

He stood abruptly, pulling on his jacket. “I have to go. I can trace where this came from.”

“Wait,” I said, grabbing his sleeve. “You can’t just disappear again.”

He paused, looking down at me. His voice softened. “I’ll come back, Jane. I promise.”

The words hung between us, fragile and trembling.

And then he was gone, just like that, leaving me with my coffee gone cold and my heart pounding like a trapped thing.

That evening, the hospital room felt heavier somehow. My father still hadn’t woken, and every shadow in the hallway looked like it might hide another secret.

I sat beside him, scrolling through messages from the foundation. Donors were pulling back, the board was nervous, and now there were whispers that Daniel’s company was under investigation.

Everything felt like it was unraveling.

At some point, I must’ve drifted off, because when I opened my eyes again, the lights in the hallway were dim, and the rain had started up once more.

The rhythmic drip from the window frame sounded almost like footsteps.

I sat up, blinking away the haze of sleep, and that’s when I saw it.

A reflection in the glass.

Someone was standing just outside the door.

I held my breath. The shadow didn’t move.

Slowly, quietly, I got up and walked to the doorway. My fingers curled around the handle.

When I opened the door, nothing. Just the faint scent of cigarette smoke and a folded piece of paper on the floor.

My throat tightened as I picked it up.

“Stop digging. Or your father dies.”

My knees nearly gave out. I clutched the note to my chest, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

By morning, I was a mess of nerves. The sun rose weakly through a layer of fog, turning the city into a muted watercolor of gray and gold.

Daniel hadn’t called. The security guard from yesterday wasn’t on duty anymore.

And when I asked the nurses about the hospital’s camera access, they exchanged nervous looks and told me to “speak with administration.”

Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

I went to the nurses’ station, pretending to be calm. “Could you tell me who was on shift last night?”

One of them frowned. “I’m not sure. Why?”

“I just need to thank them,” I lied. “They were helpful with my father’s medication.”

She flipped through a logbook. “That would be... Nurse O’Hara. But she’s out today. Personal leave.”

“Personal leave?”

The nurse nodded. “She said there’d been... some kind of family emergency.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Because O’Hara was the nurse who’d cared for my father every night since his admission, the one who’d once told me she adored him like her own dad.

And now she was gone.

That night, as the rain began again, I stood by the window, staring down at the city below, the flashing ambulance lights, the blur of passing cars, and the smell of wet pavement rising through the air.

For the first time, I let myself whisper what I’d been afraid to say aloud:

“What if this isn’t just about Pierce’s business?”

The question hung there, unanswered, echoing through the sterile silence.

I looked at my father, so still, so fragile.

And I knew, whatever this was, I couldn’t keep waiting for Daniel or the truth to find me.

I had to find it myself.

As I reached to turn off the lights and finally rest, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

The screen lit up with a new email notification.

It was from one of our largest donors.

My breath caught as I opened it and read the first line:

“Effective immediately, we are withdrawing all financial support from your foundation.”

The room tilted slightly around me.

In one night, my father’s safety wasn’t the only thing I was losing…my nonprofit was beginning to collapse too.