I hated him for that.Hated the way my body responded to his cruelty like it was a gift.
I dressed in the clothes I’d brought, simple jeans and a cream-colored sweater, and made my way downstairs.The manor was vast and silent, my footsteps echoing through marble hallways.I found the kitchen by following the smell of fresh coffee.
Alice was there, a small woman with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun and kind eyes that reminded me of Marjorie.She smiled when she saw me hovering in the doorway.
“Good morning, Miss Hughes.Coffee?”
“Please.”I accepted the cup she offered and wrapped both hands around it, letting the warmth seep into my cold fingers.“Is he… is Mr.Antonov here?”
“He left early for a meeting downtown.He’ll return this afternoon.”She studied my face with something that might have been sympathy, might have been pity.“There’s fresh fruit and pastries on the counter.You look like you could use something to eat.”
I wasn’t hungry.The thought of food made my abused stomach turn over in protest.But I forced myself to pick at a croissant anyway, knowing I needed something to absorb the lingering poison of last night’s whisky.
At nine-thirty, I called Parsons and asked him to drive me back to the hotel.I had plans with Clara, plans I’d made weeks ago for a makeup birthday celebration, and I refused to break them even for my new owner.If Raphael had a problem with me leaving his premises, he could take it up with me tonight.
My phone buzzed as I reached the front door.
Unknown number:You left without saying goodbye.
My stomach dropped.How did he know?He was supposed to be at a meeting downtown.
Another message:Parsons will drive you.Don’t take your own car.The roads are icy, and I won’t have what’s mine damaged.
What’s mine.Not “I’m worried about you.”Not “be careful.”Just that cold possessive claim, as if I were an asset to be protected rather than a person to be cared for.
I stared at the screen, torn between fury and something else.Something that felt disturbingly like warmth at being noticed.At being tracked.At mattering enough to someone that they’d interrupt their business to tell me to be careful.
I shoved the phone in my purse without responding.
But first, I needed to see my father.Parsons pulled up with his car before my feet finished descending down the front stairs.Bastard.
Paradise Peaks General was a small regional hospital, all pale brick and fluorescent lighting.The ICU waiting room smelled like industrial cleaner and old coffee.A television mounted in the corner played morning news on mute, the anchors’ mouths moving silently while closed captions scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
I signed in at the nurses’ station.They knew me by now.The daughter who came when she could, which was never often enough.
“He’s the same,” the nurse said gently, before I could ask.“Stable.No changes.”
No changes.The words felt like a weight.No changes meant no improvement.No waking up.No miraculous recovery where he opened his eyes and told me everything was going to be okay.
I pushed through the door to his room.
The machines beeped in their steady rhythm.Heart monitor.Oxygen sensor.My father lay in the center of it all, diminished in a way that still shocked me every time I saw him.Richard Hughes had always seemed larger than life.Commanding.Immovable.Now he was just a small, still figure beneath thin hospital blankets, tubes snaking from his arms and nose.
I pulled the plastic chair closer to his bed and sat down.
“Hi, Dad.”
My voice sounded wrong in this room.Too loud.Too alive.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a few days.Things have been…” I trailed off, laughing bitterly.“Complicated.You’d probably tell me I brought it on myself.”
The machines beeped.He didn’t move.
“Someone killed Maya Pavlova’s dog,” I said.“Left it in a box at the front desk.I opened it.In front of guests.In front of reporters.”My hands twisted in my lap.“The hotel’s been all over the news.Not the good kind.Reservations are down.People are canceling.”
I waited, as if he might respond.As if he might open his eyes and tell me what to do, the way he’d never done when he was awake.
“I don’t know who’s doing this.The police have no leads.It could be anyone.Someone who hates us.Someone who wants the hotel to fail.”I swallowed.“Someone who wants me scared and alone.”
