Chapter 4 - The Woman Outside His Door
Leaving Nicholas’s care team should have simplified my life.
It didn’t.
I returned to the regular medical floor, where call lights rang constantly and nobody had private guards.
I liked the noise.
It reminded me what nursing had meant before Room 412 became the center of my world.
Three days after my transfer, a woman waited beside the employee entrance.
She wore a camel coat and held a small envelope.
“Clara Jenkins?”
I kept walking toward the security desk.
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Sofia Bell.”
The name meant nothing.
Then she said, “My husband was Nicholas’s driver.”
I stopped.
She glanced toward the street.
“Please. Somewhere inside.”
Security gave us a small waiting area near the main desk.
Sofia sat with the envelope clenched between both hands.
“My husband drove him the night he was shot.”
“Was he injured?”
“He disappeared two days later.”
My stomach tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
“The police have a report. But I didn’t tell them everything.”
“Why not?”
She looked at me with exhausted disbelief.
“Because I have a daughter.”
I understood before I wanted to.
Sofia opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph of a little girl holding a school backpack.
On the back, someone had written an address.
Her school.
“Adrian sent flowers after my husband vanished,” she said. “That picture was underneath the card.”
I felt cold.
“Why come to me?”
“My husband called me from the car that night. He said Mr. Castellano was arguing with his brother.”
She swallowed.
“He said if anything happened, someone needed to know the meeting wasn’t on the calendar.”
“Did you tell Nicholas?”
“I couldn’t get near him.”
“How did you find me?”
“Victor. He said you’d reported a threat instead of pretending it was normal.”
I looked toward the security desk.
“This needs to go to the investigator.”
“I know.”
“No more secrets handed to nurses in hallways.”
A tiny, broken smile touched her mouth.
“That sounds fair.”
I contacted the detective assigned to my report.
Sofia stayed until he arrived.
I didn’t keep the envelope, investigate the photograph, or pretend courage made me qualified to handle evidence.
I gave my statement.
Then I went upstairs for my shift.
At nine that evening, Elena called.
“Nicholas asked whether you’re safe.”
“Tell him yes.”
“He also asked me to give you something.”
My shoulders tightened.
“Not money.”
“It’s a letter.”
I considered refusing.
Instead, I asked her to leave it with Denise.
Nicholas’s handwriting was uneven.
The letter took three pages because his hand tired quickly.
He did not ask me to return.
He did not mention the stories.
He described the warehouse claims he had approved closing without reviewing.
He named the decision as his own.
He said Miriam was arranging an independent review of the victims’ cases and would offer the findings to their families whether or not I ever spoke to him again.
The final paragraph was only two lines.
You asked me to tell the truth.
I am trying to begin where it costs me something.
I read it twice.
Then I folded it away.
At home, Lucy sat cross-legged on my aunt’s sofa.
“You look like you’ve been arguing with a ghost.”
“Several.”
She patted the cushion beside her.
I told her about the letter.
She listened quietly.
“Dad was more than what happened to him,” she said.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I looked at her.
She was too young to remember him teaching her to ride a bike. Sometimes I forgot her grief had different edges from mine.
“I remember his hands,” she said. “Always black under the nails. Mom hated that he touched the refrigerator.”
I laughed unexpectedly.
Then cried.
Lucy leaned against me.
For the first time in years, we talked about our father without talking about the fire.
The following afternoon, Miriam called.
“Clara, I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did Adrian ever offer you money?”
“No.”
“Any gifts? Any documents?”
“Coffee.”
A pause.
“What happened to it?”
“I left it.”
“Good.”
My pulse quickened.
“What’s going on?”
“Someone has submitted a complaint claiming Nicholas’s awakening was manipulated and that you’re seeking payment for a fabricated story.”
I sat down.
“Who?”
May you like
She didn’t have to answer.
Across the city, the man with the perfect smile had found a new way to make me afraid.
