Chapter 5: The Morning Veronica Came Back
She arrived at seven forty-two.
I heard her before I saw her — the particular rhythm of her heels on the hospital corridor floor, the brief exchange with the duty nurse, the pause outside my door that lasted exactly three seconds longer than grief required.
Then she walked in.
She was in charcoal today.
A different silk.
The single tear was replaced by a composed, sorrowful stillness that she wore the way other women wore jewelry.
She crossed to my bedside, touched my hand, and sighed.
"Still nothing," she said, to no one in particular.
I kept my breathing even.
Slow.
The rhythm of a man who wasn't there.
She sat in the chair and crossed her legs.
For a long time she said nothing.
Then she picked up her phone.
"It's me," she said quietly.
"I'm here now." A pause.
"I know.
I know the timeline." Another pause, longer.
"Anthony, I told you — the board meeting is Thursday.
That gives us—" She stopped.
Listened.
"What do you mean it's not enough?
We have Voss, we have the prescription, we have the transfer documents already signed by the proxy." Her voice dropped.
"What do you mean he won't sign the second set?"
I filed that away.
A second set of documents.
A proxy who was getting cold feet.
"Then handle it," Veronica said flatly.
"That's what I'm paying you for." She ended the call.
The room was quiet.
She stood and walked to the window.
She looked out at the city for a long time, her back to me, and I watched her shoulders.
They were tighter than usual.
Something had gone wrong on Anthony's end.
The fracture I'd sensed last night was already widening.
Then the door opened.
Grace came in with fresh towels folded over her arm.
She moved to the cabinet beside the bathroom and began stacking them without looking at Veronica.
"Excuse me," Veronica said.
Grace turned.
"Yes, Miss Hale?"
"I left a bag in this room yesterday.
Small.
Dark leather."
Grace's expression didn't flicker.
"Oh — yes.
I found it on the chair when I came in for the evening turndown.
I put it at the nurses' station for safekeeping.
I can go get it for you now if you'd like."
Veronica looked at her for a long moment.
The kind of look that was meant to make someone feel small.
"You touched my bag."
"I moved it to the nurses' station," Grace said.
"I didn't want it to get misplaced."
"And you didn't think to call me?"
"I don't have your number, Miss Hale."
Another long look.
Then Veronica picked up her coat from the chair.
"I'll collect it myself." She moved toward the door, then stopped without turning around.
"How long have you been working this floor?"
"Six months," Grace said.
"And before that?"
"I was at the Moretti penthouse.
Private household staff."
Veronica turned then.
Slowly.
She looked at Grace the way you look at something you've been stepping around without realizing it was there.
"I see," she said.
She left.
Grace waited until the heels faded down the corridor.
Then she turned to me.
Her face told me everything before she spoke.
"She knew," Grace said.
"The moment I mentioned the nurses' station.
Something changed in her eyes." She set the towels down.
"She's not going to wait until Thursday."
My phone was under the mattress where Dr.
Haan had placed it the night before.
I reached for it.
"Then neither am I," I said.
I dialed.
It rang twice.
"It's Dominic," I said.
"I need you in New York by tonight.
Bring the Castello file." A pause on the other end.
"All of it.
Yes.
Including what you found about my father."
I ended the call and looked at Grace.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"The only person outside this room I trust completely." I set the phone down.
"His name is Marco.
He was my father's investigator for twenty years." I met her eyes.
"And three months ago, he told me he'd found something about the night my father died.
I told him to wait.
I wasn't ready."
Grace was very still.
"Are you ready now?" she asked.
I thought about Anthony on the phone.
The second set of documents.
The proxy with cold feet.
May you like
Veronica's eyes when she heard the word nurses' station.
"I don't have a choice," I said.
