His hand remained still.
I watched him carefully. “Jason chose the music?”
One tap.
A small detail. Meaningless, maybe.
But then I began noticing other things.
The flowers beside Ethan’s bed were always lilies.
The same flowers from the chapel.
Beautiful, fragrant, overpowering.
Whenever the arrangements were fresh, Ethan’s responses became slower. His eyelids seemed heavier. The room smelled sweet enough to make even me lightheaded after an hour.
I mentioned it to Mara while she changed his IV line.
“The flowers are too strong,” I said.
Her hands stilled briefly.
“I’ll ask Elena to remove them.”
“You noticed too?”
Mara glanced at the door.
Then she lowered her voice. “I noticed many things before I learned not to notice them.”
“Mara.”
She shook her head slightly. “Not here.”
That evening, she found me in the library.
The Thornton library was a cathedral of books and dust, with rolling ladders, leather chairs, and a fireplace that looked like it belonged in an old film. Mara entered quietly and closed the door behind her.
“You should not speak openly in Ethan’s room,” she said.
“Is it watched?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you suspect.”
“In houses with this much money, suspicion is just another form of common sense.”
I folded my arms around myself. “You know he’s awake.”
“I know he’s trying to be.”
“How long?”
Mara’s eyes filled with something like guilt.
“Three weeks.”
The answer hit me hard.
“Before the wedding?”
She nodded.
I stepped back. “Why didn’t anyone say anything?”
“Because responsiveness is not the same as recovery. Because the first time he moved on command, the night nurse reported it. She was dismissed the next morning. Because his medication was adjusted afterward, and he stopped responding for days.”
My skin went cold.
“Who adjusted it?”
“The prescription came through Dr. Lang.”
“His doctor?”
“Yes.”
“On whose request?”
Mara did not answer.
She did not have to.
Jason.
I sank into one of the leather chairs.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because when you spoke to him, he opened his eyes.” Mara’s voice trembled. “I have cared for him for seven months. I have watched him fight his way to the surface again and again, only to be pulled under. But with you, he reacted differently.”
I thought of my words to him that first day.
I didn’t want this marriage.
I just didn’t know how to save my family.
“Why me?” I asked.
Mara’s expression softened. “Maybe because you were the first person in this house who spoke to him as if he was still a person, not an inheritance.”
For reasons I could not explain, that nearly broke me.
I looked away before she could see my eyes fill.
“What do we do?”
Mara took a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and placed it on the table between us.
“I copied this from his medication chart.”
I unfolded it.
