Chapter 6 - THE DEAD WOMAN
Her name was Rachel Monroe.
Twenty-nine.
Pediatric nurse.
Dead for three years.
Official cause: suicide.
Andrew had worked with her.
Police had questioned him once.
Nothing came of it.
Ethan’s lawyers found the file before sunrise.
I sat in his penthouse wearing one of his oversized sweatshirts while New York woke beneath us.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“So should you.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“You know too much about my habits.”
“That’s literally my job.”
For the first time all night, he almost smiled.
Then his expression turned serious.
“Rachel filed a complaint against Andrew four months before she died.”
“What kind?”
“Harassment.”
My throat tightened.
“It disappeared.”
“How?”
“Hospital administration classified it as unsubstantiated.”
“And who ran compliance?”
Ethan hesitated.
“My foundation board member. Charles Mercer.”
I knew Charles.
Everyone did.
Former hospital president.
Respected philanthropist.
Andrew’s mentor.
A man who had praised Andrew at every fundraiser for years.
“This is bigger than Andrew,” I whispered.
“Maybe.”
My phone rang.
My father.
I almost didn’t answer.
“Ava?”
“Dad.”
“What is going on? Your face is everywhere.”
“I’m okay.”
“Andrew called me.”
My blood went cold.
“What did he say?”
“That Ethan manipulated you. That you’ve been confused lately.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
“What do you believe?”
My father went quiet.
Too quiet.
“Dad?”
“I just think you should come home.”
“Do you believe he hit me?”
“I think relationships can get complicated.”
The sentence crushed something inside me.
Ethan watched my face.
I stood.
“I have to go.”
“Ava—”
“Don’t.”
I walked toward the window.
My father continued.
“Andrew said you’ve been under pressure at work. He’s worried about you.”
“He broke my rib.”
Silence.
“He broke my rib, Dad.”
Another silence.
Then:
“Did you provoke him?”
I ended the call.
I didn’t cry.
That surprised me.
Ethan crossed the room slowly.
“You don’t have to be strong right now.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“That’s the problem.”
He stopped a few feet away.
“I kept waiting for someone to notice.”
My voice cracked.
“And when no one did, I started thinking maybe I deserved it.”
Ethan looked devastated.
“You didn’t.”
Before I could answer, Marcus entered.
“We found something.”
He placed a folder on the table.
Inside were photographs.
Rachel.
Another woman.
Then another.
All connected to Andrew.
The final photograph made my hands go numb.
It showed Andrew three years earlier.
May you like
Standing beside Charles Mercer.
And my father.
