บททั้งหมดของ Darling, I'm Running Out Of Time: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

"The last treatment didn't respond the way we needed it to." Dr. Voss said it looking directly at her, not at the file open on the desk between them. That was something Celine had noticed about him over the past two years. He rarely consulted the file when she was in the room. Either he had it memorized, or he'd gotten accustomed to her report. "What that means for your prognosis," Dr. Voss continued, "is that the picture has changed." "How changed?" Celine asked him. He laced his hands on the desk. "We're talking about months, Celine. Not years." There it was. She'd known, abstractly. "How many months?" she asked him. "I can't give you an exact number. It doesn't work that way — there are too many variables, and I'd rather be honest about what I don't know than give you a figure that turns out to be wrong in either direction." He paused. "What I can tell you is that if we're going to attempt another course of treatment, the time to decide is now. Not next month." She nodde

"Rule one," Mrs. Calloway says. "The study is not entered unless Mr. Mercer opens the door himself." She doesn't slow down. Celine adjusts her suitcase and lengthens her stride. "Rule two. No photographs. Not of the house, not of the grounds, not of each other. Your phone stays in your pocket past the east door." "What if I need to—" "You won't." "Rule three. Breakfast is at seven-fifteen. Whether Mr. Mercer comes down or not." "Does he come down?" "Not always. Set it anyway." Mrs. Calloway takes a left. "Rule four. You do not ask him about his day." "Ever?" "If he wants you to know about it, he'll say so." "Has anyone ever asked?" "One person. Briefly." Celine waits. Mrs. Calloway doesn't elaborate. "Rules five through nine are in your folder. Read them tonight. Rule ten." She stops walking for the first time. "Nothing you see or hear in this house leaves it. Not to friends. Not to your mother." "I don't tell my mother anything." "Good." Celine isn't su

Lucan doesn't look up from his phone. That's it. That's the whole conversation about her job. Celine stays in her chair, waiting for the rest of the sentence but obviously there isn't one. "Mr. Mercer? Last night, I thought—" "Seven-fifteen tomorrow," he says, and leaves with his coffee. She sits there with her toast going cold. Two minutes ago she was a woman about to be fired. Now she's a woman who still has a job and no idea why. The kitchen door bangs. Mrs. Calloway limps in on a walking boot and a cane she insists is not a cane. "You should be in bed," Celine says. "I'm resting standing up. Thursday." "What's Thursday?" "Lunch. Three guests, three courses. I can't stand that long, so you'll do it." "Me? I've been here five days." "Then you have until Thursday." Mrs. Calloway drops a folder on the counter. "The main guest is Gerald Harrington. Whatever you do, don't let him pour his own wine." "Why not?" "Because then he'll think the bottle is yours to hand him. Trust

At 2:04 in the morning, the kitchen light is already on. Celine stops in the doorway in her socks. One lamp over the island. Lucan Mercer sits at the far end of it in a gray T-shirt, no cuffs, no phone, nothing in front of him but his own hands. She almost turns around. "You're up," he says. "So are you." "I don't sleep much." "Neither do I. Apparently." She should leave. She walks in instead. The kettle sits by the stove, and her hand is halfway to it before she remembers who's watching. She takes a glass from the cupboard and fills it at the tap. Tea is hers. It's the one private thing she does in this house, six a.m., before anyone's up. She isn't giving that away at two in the morning. She sits across from him, one stool between them. The refrigerator hums. "Bad night?" he asks. "My body picks two a.m. to hold its meetings." "What's on the agenda?" "Complaints, mostly." She turns the glass. "You?" He takes a while. "My father used to call at this hour. Not to talk. To

Adrian came in without knocking, the way he always did, and dropped a folder on the desk like it had personally offended him. "Okay. So. I've got nothing." "Nothing?" "Nothing bad. That's what's bothering me." He sat down hard. "She's clean, Lucan. Boringly clean. No debts, no record, nobody chasing her for money. She left her flat with the deposit back. I looked twice because I didn't believe it." "What about the medical leave?" "It goes back to some clinic. Records are locked." Adrian rubbed his eyes. "I could get in. But it'd cost me a favor and honestly, I don't love it. It's somebody's health." Lucan didn't say anything. He picked up the folder and opened it to the last page. "That's the other thing," Adrian said. "She searched your name late at night. Eleven-forty. And she'd sent in the application to this house before the next day was over." "The next day." "Less than that, almost." Lucan read it again. A time. A date. That was all. He had a list with his name at the t