Chapter 4 - THE HOSPITAL SAFE HOUSE
The private floor of Massachusetts General Hospital was quiet, save for the rhythmic humming of heart monitors and the soft squeak of nurses' shoes on vinyl floors.
In Room 412, Naomi Paige lay in a high-tech hospital bed. Her right leg was enclosed in a heavy fiberglass cast, elevated by straps. An IV line ran into her arm, delivering pain medication and fluids. She looked small, exhausted, but her color was slowly returning.
Beside her, asleep in a large armchair wrapped in a warm fleece blanket, was nine-year-old Clara. Her glittery purple backpack sat on the floor beside a spread of untouched sandwiches and juice boxes that Samuel had bought from the cafeteria.
The door clicked open softly.
Adrian stepped in. He had finally changed out of his ruined suit, now wearing a simple charcoal sweater and dark trousers. He looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes heavy, but his posture was resolute.
Naomi moved slightly, turning her head toward him. “Mr. Hawthorne...”
“Don’t try to sit up,” Adrian said gently, walking over to the side of the bed. “How is the leg?”
“The doctor said the bone broke in two places,” Naomi whispered, glancing nervously at her sleeping daughter. “They put steel pins in my ankle. He said... he said I won't be able to work for six months.”
Tears welled in her dark eyes, slipping down her pale cheeks. “Mr. Hawthorne, what am I going to do? My rent is due next week. My health insurance through the hotel has a three-thousand-dollar deductible. I can’t... I can’t lose our apartment.”
Adrian reached out, picking up a chair, and sat down close to the bed.
“You aren't going to lose anything, Naomi,” Adrian said, his voice quiet but absolute. “Your medical bills are completely covered by my personal account. Your salary will continue to be paid every two weeks, in full, for as long as it takes you to recover.”
Naomi stared at him, stunned. “I... I don't understand. Why are you doing this? Mr. Sloan said... he said people like me shouldn't cause trouble for the family.”
“Victor Sloan no longer works for the hotel,” Adrian replied smoothly. “He was terminated an hour ago, and police investigators are currently questioning him about delaying emergency medical aid.”
Naomi lowered her eyes, her hand tightening on the bedsheets. “It was your uncle, wasn't it? On the tape?”
Adrian’s expression darkened. “Yes. I saw the footage, Naomi. I saw him push you into those pallets. And I saw him take an envelope from your apron pocket.”
Naomi’s breath hitched. She looked toward the door, terror flaring in her eyes again.
“What was in the envelope, Naomi?” Adrian asked gently. “Why would a billionaire co-chairman assault a housekeeper for a piece of paper?”
Naomi swallowed hard, her chest heaving. “It wasn't paper, Mr. Hawthorne. It was a flash drive.”
Adrian frowned. “A flash drive?”
“My sister, Sarah... she passed away two years ago,” Naomi whispered, her voice dropping to a barely audible thread. “Before she died, she worked as the senior accountant for the Hawthorne Promise Fund. She handled the offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.”
Adrian felt a cold needle of apprehension pierce his chest. “What did your sister find?”
“She found that thirty million dollars donated to help single mothers was being funneled into dummy corporations in Panama,” Naomi said, tears streaming down her face. “Sarah was terrified. She hid the master ledger files on an encrypted drive and gave it to me for safekeeping before she went into the hospital. She told me to keep it as an insurance policy in case anyone ever came after us.”
Adrian leaned back in his chair, the full scope of the nightmare finally coming into focus.
The charity wasn't just a tax shelter or a vanity project for his uncle. It was a massive, multi-million-dollar embezzlement scheme. Richard hadn't just pushed Naomi out of arrogance—he had shoved her out of pure, desperate panic because she was carrying the evidence that could send him to federal prison for the rest of his life.
“Tonight,” Naomi continued, weeping softly, “Mr. Richard called me to the loading dock. He said he wanted to pay off my sister’s remaining estate debts. But when I pulled the drive out to show him I had the files, he tried to grab it. I pulled back... and he shoved me.”
Adrian reached over, gently taking Naomi’s hand.
“You don't have to be afraid anymore, Naomi,” Adrian said firmly. “My uncle picked the wrong enemy. He thought because you wore a uniform, you had no voice. He forgot that this company still has my father’s name on it—and I will tear down every wall of this empire to fix what he broke.”
The door behind them burst open.
Samuel stepped in, his face grim. “Mr. Hawthorne, we have a problem.”
Adrian stood up immediately. “What is it?”
“Richard’s lawyers just filed an emergency injunction with the state court,” Samuel said, holding up a tablet. “They are claiming you suffered an acute psychological breakdown tonight at the gala. They’re attempting to freeze your executive authority and place the firm under temporary receivership by morning.”
Adrian looked at Naomi, then at little Clara, who was stirring in her sleep under the fleece blanket.
May you like
A cold, dangerous smile touched Adrian’s lips.
“They want a war, Samuel?” Adrian said quietly. “Tell Mark Sterling to meet me at my office in twenty minutes. It’s time we show my uncle what a real Hawthorne looks like.”
