Chapter 6 - The Long Road
Winter settled over Illinois with a brutal, relentless intensity.
By late November, Lake Michigan was partially frozen, sending jagged sheets of blue ice piling up against the shore. The grand Cole estate was completely winterized, but inside, Nathan lived like a ghost in his own palace.
The wedding had been canceled, of course. The news of Lauren Pierce’s arrest and trial dominated the financial newspapers for weeks, but Nathan refused every interview request. He pulled back from public life, handing over the day-to-day operations of Cole Hospitality to his regional vice presidents.
Without the toxic medication in his system, Nathan’s physical recovery accelerated rapidly.
Within two months, the chronic inflammation in his left leg had decreased by eighty percent. Under the care of a new, legitimate physical therapy team, he graduated from his heavy steel brace to a light sleeve. He could walk across his living room without his cane for short distances.
His body was healing. But his soul was rotting away.
Every room in his home was a museum of regret. He couldn't look at the kitchen counter without seeing Grace pouring his night tea. He couldn't look at the library without remembering her quiet, unyielding voice during their first interview: “Difficulty usually means something else is happening underneath.”
He spent his evenings in his study, sitting in the dark, reading her daily care logs over and over again.
He learned more about Grace from those handwritten pages than he had in the two years she had worked for him. He saw how carefully she had tracked his mood swings, noting that his worst outbursts occurred on the anniversaries of his father's death or after difficult corporate board meetings. He saw how she had secretly coordinated with his chefs to hide high-protein supplements in his meals when his pain made him refuse to eat.
She hadn't just been his nurse. She had been his guardian angel.
And he had publicly humiliated her in front of his entire household, accused her of treason, and thrown her out into the cold.
"Sir?" Arthur, the butler, knocked softly on the study door one evening in mid-December.
Nathan didn't look up from his desk, where Grace’s notebook lay open. "Yes, Arthur?"
"There is a gentleman downstairs to see you. A Mr. Frank Miller."
Nathan lifted his head. "Send him up."
Frank Miller stepped into the study a moment later, shaking snow off his heavy overcoat. He carried a thick yellow courier envelope under his arm.
"Good evening, Mr. Cole," Frank said, taking a seat opposite the desk.
"Did the legal team finalize the asset forfeiture on Lauren's accounts?" Nathan asked tiredly.
"Yes. That’s all finished. She’s looking at seven to ten years in federal prison under the plea bargain," Frank said, setting the yellow envelope on the desk. "But that's not why I'm here."
Nathan looked at the envelope. "What is that?"
"You hired my firm six weeks ago to track down Grace Miller's whereabouts," Frank said quietly. "It wasn't easy. She intentionally went off the grid—no social media, no local bank accounts, using a private contractor network for rural nursing relief."
Nathan felt his heart give a violent, sudden leap against his ribs. He sat up straight. "You found her?"
"We located her primary placement," Frank said, pushing the envelope closer to Nathan. "She’s currently working at a non-profit community hospice and rehabilitation center in Upper Michigan. A tiny town called Copper Harbor. Right on the northern tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula."
Nathan reached out, his hand trembling as his fingers touched the yellow paper. "Copper Harbor. That's near the Canadian border. It's five hundred miles from here."
"There’s a blizzard moving through that region tonight," Frank warned. "The roads up there are treacherous. Most people don't go up there in December unless they have a very good reason."
Nathan looked down at the envelope, then turned his gaze toward the silver-headed cane resting in the corner of his office—the cane he barely needed anymore, thanks to the woman living five hundred miles away in the snow.
"I have the only reason that matters," Nathan said softly.
May you like
He stood up from his chair. He didn't reach for the cane. He walked across the wooden floor, his gait steady, his posture straight, and looked Frank directly in the eye.
"Have the driver prepare the heavy SUV," Nathan ordered, his voice echoing with the authority of a man who had finally found his purpose. "We leave in ten minutes."
