The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a soft knock on the door and a young man in scrubs entered. “Evelyn Stanley?”
“Yes.” Evie turned around immediately, and he opened the folder in his hand.
“I’m Dr. Grunwald, the ER physician in charge of your mother’s case. We were able to successfully pump herstomach and stabilize her. She’s currently sedated and resting comfortably in the ICU. You can see her in the morning.”
“Thank you.” Evie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Were you aware that your mother has colorectal cancer?” He closed the folder and held it in both hands in front of him, his eyes flicking between them.
“Excuse me?” Evie stared at the doctor and felt her legs give way. Thorn quickly caught her and helped her to the loveseat while Tommy took over the conversation.
“What does that mean exactly?”
“According to her medical records, the mass was discovered during her detox admission last year. They advised her to follow up with an oncologist, but there’s no record of her doing so. Since it wasn’t mentioned when she was admitted tonight, I assumed you were unaware.”
He looked down at the floor, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment. “While it didn’t directly cause the cancer, your mother’s alcohol use helped create the conditions that made it more likely to occur. Long-term use affects the body’s ability to absorb nutrients, especially folate, which helps repair DNA. Alcohol inflames the intestines, damages the lining, and alters the balance of bacteria that protect the colon. Together, these raise the risk of mutations that lead to cancer.”
Evie swallowed, the anger at her mother flaring to life again. “Because why the hell not? Of course, she has cancer and hid it from me. Why would I need to know, right?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her head in her hands. “Jesus Christ, what a mess.”
“Evie…” Tommy murmured, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. It’s been a … trying day.”
“Honestly, if this was the reaction I got every time I deliver this type of news, I’d be thrilled.” Dr. Grunwald waved off Tommy’s apology and moved over to the table, sitting on the edge. “I know this isn’t what you expected to hear, but there’s more we need to go over. Is now a good time?”
Evie huffed out a short, dry laugh and looked up at him. “Might as well. If she’s unconscious, I can agree to whatever course of treatment’s needed.” She sighed. “How long has she had it?”
“Because she hasn’t seen an oncologist, I don’t have an exact idea,” the doctor explained. “I’ve ordered tests and arranged for our oncologist to review the results to determine the timeline and how much it’s spread but based on what the detox physician noted last year, I’d estimate two to three years.”
“Two to three years?” Evie looked at Tommy and Thorn in disbelief before turning back to the doctor. “How could we have missed it for that long?”
“Colorectal-cancer symptoms are easy to miss. They’re often dismissed as food intolerance, a stomach virus, or hemorrhoids,” he said. “Her sobriety would have made many of the issues fade. And if she didn’t want you to know, she would have hidden it all.”
That made her feel slightly better, knowing it wasn’t something she should have noticed, and she nodded. “So, what are her treatment options?”
“I won’t have an exact answer until I get the test results, but if the detox center was correct that she was in stage III last year, she’s likely late stage III or early stage IV now.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Normally the treatment would be surgery to remove the tumor and surrounding tissue, followed by several months of chemotherapy. Your mother’s health make thoseoptions extremely unsafe. She may not survive the surgery, and her liver is too damaged to handle chemotherapy. To be blunt, treatment wouldn’t save her life, it would only extend it by a few months, and she’d be very sick the entire time.”
“And without treatment?” Tommy’s hand tightened on Evie’s shoulder almost to the point of pain as he asked the question she was dreading.
“If my estimates are correct and she’s at the end of stage III, she has twelve to twenty-four months.” He looked at Evie, and she could see genuine regret in his eyes. “The remaining options are palliative care: medication to manage symptoms and pain and making end-of-life plans.”
Chapter Twenty-One: Unauthorized Access
A few weeks after Della was released from the hospital, Tommy sat in his office waiting for a meeting with a man whose name had appeared in his calendar the week before. When he’d asked his assistant about it, she claimed to have no knowledge of it and assumed he’d scheduled it himself. She’d offered to cancel, but curiosity had won out, and Tommy told her to keep it.
Leaning back in his chair, he absently tapped a pen against a pad of paper, spinning it between his fingers as his thoughts wandered. His office occupied the west corner of the seventy-fifth floor of Sloane Tower and reflected the Art Deco revival style of the building's exterior. Strong geometry defined the space: dark walnut panels framed by thin bands of brushed brass that traced angular patterns, catching the light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A wide strip of polished black marble ran along the windows, mirroring the warm gold tones of the sconces and the subtle coffering of the high ceiling. His desk was walnut and brass, large but uncluttered, holding only a few neatly stacked folders, a matte-glass monitor that rose from the surface when needed, and a keyboard. Two black leather chairs faced it for guests.
Behind him, a low credenza displayed a few framed photographs: one of him and Nissa, another of his parents, and a third of a twenty-year-old Tommy holding a six-year-old Evie in a ballet leotard and tutu. Near the windows, a seating areaoffered two deep leather club chairs, one of which was currently occupied by Thorn, who was quietly reading a novel as they waited, and a low glass table atop a thick neutral rug. A small bar and espresso station were recessed into the far wall.
Everything about the space spoke of control and precision. It was, in every way, Tommy.
He was curious about the man he was about to meet. A standard background search had turned up nothing, and he couldn’t recall ever meeting an Aaron Denton. Neither could Nissa or Thorn. Even a deeper probe came back blank, which only heightened his curiosity. Still, plenty of his employees had scrubbed their digital footprints, so he assumed Denton was some kind of security or tech specialist who had hacked his calendar as part of an elaborate attempt to get an interview.
“Mr. Sloane?” his assistant’s voice came over the intercom, pulling him from his thoughts. “Your two o’clock is here.”
“Send him in.”
Tommy’s eyes flicked toward Thorn, who gave a slight nod, stretching his long legs out in front of him and turning a page in his book.
