Chapter 7: Nine O'Clock
Hannah was dressed and at Nicholas's door by seven-thirty.
He looked like he hadn't slept either.
But his eyes were clear.
"Walter asked me this morning if I wanted to replace you," he said.
Hannah stepped inside and closed the door.
"What did you say?"
"I said no.
I said you were the first nurse who hadn't tried to inspire me." A pause.
"He didn't find that funny."
"What reason did he give?"
"He said you were overstepping.
That you were involving yourself in household matters outside your professional scope." Nicholas's voice was flat.
"He said Claire had come to him with concerns."
"She came to my room last night.
She told me I was building an inaccurate picture."
"What did you tell her?"
"I asked if she knew Rebecca kept a journal."
Nicholas was quiet for a moment.
"And?"
"She left."
He looked at the window.
"They know something is happening.
They don't know how much you have."
"They'll know more after nine o'clock."
At eight fifty-five, Dr.
Harmon arrived with Dr.
Lena Park.
Hannah met them at the front door before anyone else could intercept them.
She brought them directly to Nicholas's room.
Walter appeared in the corridor before they reached it.
"Dr.
Harmon." His voice was warm, practiced.
"We weren't expecting you today."
"Routine visit," Harmon said.
"I try to vary my schedule.
Keeps the records clean."
"Of course.
I'll let Claire know—"
"That won't be necessary," Nicholas said from behind Walter.
Walter turned.
Nicholas had wheeled himself into the corridor.
He was dressed, composed, and looking at Walter with an expression Hannah had not seen on him before.
Not anger.
Something colder than anger.
"This is a medical appointment," Nicholas said.
"Claire doesn't need to be present."
Walter's smile stayed in place.
"Of course.
I'll be in my office if anyone needs anything."
He walked away.
Hannah watched him go.
Inside the room, Dr.
Park conducted a full assessment while Dr.
Harmon reviewed the lab results and Diane's documents spread across the desk.
The room was quiet except for the sound of pages turning and the occasional question from Dr.
Park.
At nine forty-five, Dr.
Harmon set down the last page.
"Nicholas," he said.
"I need to tell you something, and I need you to hear it clearly."
Nicholas looked at him.
"Someone modified three reports sent from my office over the past fourteen months.
I did not authorize those modifications.
My office did not produce them.
Someone with access to my systems, or to documents after they left my office, altered them before they reached you." He paused.
"I am deeply sorry.
I should have—"
"You couldn't have known," Nicholas said.
"Rebecca came to me," Harmon said.
"Seven weeks before she d*ed.
She said she thought something was wrong with your bloodwork.
I reviewed the file I had and told her everything looked normal." His voice was tight.
"She was right.
I was looking at the wrong file."
The room was very still.
"The tablets," Dr.
Park said, "contain a compound that is not difficult to obtain but requires specific knowledge to dose correctly over a long period without triggering obvious symptoms.
Whoever administered this knew what they were doing."
"How long?" Nicholas asked.
"Based on the dosage and your symptom timeline — we believe this began approximately six weeks after your accident." She paused.
"Which would place the start date shortly after Claire Whitmore arrived."
The door opened.
Claire stood in the doorway.
Behind her, one step back, was Walter.
"I knocked," Claire said.
"No one answered." Her eyes moved across the room — the documents, the two physicians, Hannah standing beside Nicholas.
"What is this?"
"A medical appointment," Nicholas said.
"Those are my documents on that desk."
"No," Hannah said.
"They're copies of your documents.
The originals are with Nicholas's attorney."
Claire's eyes moved to her.
Something shifted behind them — not fear exactly.
Recalculation.
"Walter," she said.
Walter stepped forward.
His voice was very calm.
"Nicholas.
I think there's been a serious misunderstanding here.
Whatever Miss Reed has told you—"
"Rebecca told me," Nicholas said.
Walter stopped.
"Not directly.
She wrote it down.
She hid it.
She trusted that someone would find it." Nicholas looked at him.
"She trusted correctly."
Walter's composure held for another three seconds.
Then it didn't.
"You have no idea what it cost to keep this family together after your father d*ed," he said.
"What I've done for thirty years.
What I was owed."
"What you were owed," Nicholas repeated.
"Your father promised me a partnership.
He d*ed before he signed it.
You inherited everything and handed me a salary." Walter's voice was still controlled, but something underneath it had come loose.
"Claire approached me.
She had a plan.
I made it better."
"You made it better," Nicholas said.
"My sister is d*ad."
Walter said nothing.
"Get out of this room," Nicholas said.
"Both of you.
Don't leave the property."
Claire took one step back.
Her eyes went to the documents on the desk one more time.
"Those won't hold up," she said.
"You know that.
A dead woman's journal.
A frightened friend.
A nurse with a grudge."
"Marcus Reeve is outside the gate," Hannah said.
"He arrived twenty minutes ago.
He has everything."
May you like
Claire's hand found the doorframe.
"And the police," Hannah added, "are with him."
