Chapter 4 - THE WHISPER IN THE DARK
The grandfather clock in the hallway struck two in the morning.
Kate sat in the small medical suite adjacent to Damon’s private quarters.
Dr. Vance had finished wrapping her arm in a sturdy fiberglass cast.
"You'll need to keep it elevated," the old doctor muttered, packing his instruments into a leather bag.
"No heavy lifting for at least eight weeks."
"Thank you, Doctor," Kate said quietly.
The doctor nodded and slipped out through the sliding door, leaving her alone in the softly lit room.
The door opened again a moment later.
Damon walked in.
He had removed his tuxedo jacket; his white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted with dark hair and a long, faint scar across his left wrist.
"How is the arm?" he asked, walking over to stand beside the bed.
"Better," she lied.
"It throbs."
"That's the bone knitting together under the splint."
He pulled a chair close and sat down.
His dark eyes studied her face with an intensity that made her skin tingle.
"You didn't cry when Vance set it," he noted.
"I've had worse pain," she whispered.
"Your mother's hospital bills."
Kate stiffened.
"Mr. Blackwell, you don't need to—"
"I already paid them, Kate."
She froze. Her head snapped up.
"What?"
"The balance at St. Vincent's was seventy-one thousand four hundred and twenty dollars," he said calmly.
"It was paid in full at twelve-fifteen a.m. Your mother has been moved to the private VIP wing on the fifth floor. She has a dedicated nurse now."
Tears—hot, sudden, and furious—pricked Kate’s eyes.
"I didn't ask for your charity."
"It isn't charity," he said, leaning forward.
"It's an investment."
"An investment in what? I'm just a maid!"
"You are the only person in this house who stood up to Preston Caldwell and didn't back down," Damon said, his voice dropping an octave.
"Everyone else looks the other way. The guards, the staff, even the politicians who dine at my table."
He reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray tear from her cheek.
His touch was surprisingly tender for a man who had broken a man's wrist an hour ago.
"They take bribes, or they look at the floor."
"And you?" Kate breathed, her voice trembling.
"I don't look at the floor," he murmured.
"I look right back."
Before she could process his words, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
Marcus entered without waiting for permission, his face grim.
"Boss. We have a problem."
Damon’s softness vanished instantly.
The predator returned in a fraction of a second.
"Speak."
"Senator Caldwell just received word about his son," Marcus said, glancing sideways at Kate.
"He’s mobilizing federal marshals. He thinks it was a kidnapping."
Damon stood up slowly.
He buttoned his cuffs.
He looked down at Kate one last time before turning toward the door.
"Tell the senator," Damon said coldly, "that his son is safe in my cellar."
"And the others?"
Damon’s eyes flashed in the dim light.
"Execute phase two."
"All fifteen?" Marcus asked.
"All fifteen," Damon replied without hesitation.
"Let's see how much the senator cares about his son when his entire inner circle vanishes before sunrise."
The door slid shut.
Kate sat alone in the quiet room, staring at her cast.
Outside, the storm was beginning to break against the reinforced glass.
May you like
And fifteen men were running out of time.
THE END OF CHAPTER 4
