THREE
JULIAN
They move Olivia into a cubicle to check her over. Then send her off for scans for the cracked ribs to be confirmed. When she’s back from the scan, they move her to a room while we wait for the results. I tell the doctor money is no object. She gets the best care they have.
Olivia looks small in the bed. Her face is a mess of purple and yellow. My gut twists. Anger burns hot enough to choke me. Kieran is a dead man. I will find him. When I do, he will pay for touching what’s mine.
The doctor walks in. He carries a file. He drops it onto the rolling tray and flips it open.
“Miss Harper,” he says, looking at her, then me. “Mr. Thorne. I’m Dr. Mayat.”
He scans the pages.
“The CT confirmed a hairline fracture on your left eighth rib.”
Olivia flinches but says nothing.
“Good news,” the doctor says, glancing up. “The maxillofacial scan is clear. No fractures to the cheekbone.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“You have a laceration over the bone,” he continues. “It is superficial. It doesn’t need stitches. We will just steri-strip it. Which a nurse will come and attend to in a minute.”
He keeps reading.
“Beyond that, you have a grade-one concussion. The rest is just soft-tissue bruising. That will resolve on its own.”
He pauses. He looks at me, then back to her.
“That rib is going to give you hell when you breathe, though.”
Olivia closes her eyes and asks, “How long will it take to heal?”
“For the rib, it will take around four to six weeks to heal on its own,” he says.
“We do not bind or wrap them anymore. That just risks causing pneumonia because you cannot expand your lungs.”
“So what do we do?” I ask.
“Treatment is aggressive pain management and rest,” he says. “I’m writing a prescription for an anti-inflammatory.”
He looks at Olivia again.
“You need to take deep breaths every hour even if it hurts. You have to keep the lungs clear.”
Olivia nods. “Can I go home?”
“Yes. But you need someone there for the next couple of days. That rib makes moving a nightmare. Plus, we need to watch for any changes with that concussion. You will need help with the basics. Even just showering.”
“I will ask my friend to stay with—”
“No.” I cut her off. “You’re staying with me. If you need medical help, I will have a nurse on call around the clock.”
Olivia stares at me. “I do not think that is necessary, Julian. Maya can come to my place.”
The doctor clears his throat. “I will leave you two to decide on the home care. I will sign the release papers. A nurse will be in to clean that cut on your cheek and then you’re good to go.”
He scribbles something on a pad and hands it to her. “Your prescription.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
He walks out.
I lean in. “Olivia. Come to my place. I will work from home. Do this for me. Do it for yourself.”
She looks at me. She knows this isn’t up for debate.
“Okay. But only until I’m better.”
I nod. She thinks this is temporary. She has no idea I’m not letting her go anywhere until we find Kieran.
In the penthouse parking garage I park my car at the usual spot.
“Wait, don’t get out,” I say. I do not want her to put strain on her rib.
I walk around. I open her door. I pick her up from the front passenger seat slowly and carefully. I make sure not to hurt her.
“Julian, I can walk. I’m not broken.”
If she thinks I will let her walk she’s mistaken.
“I know you’re not broken. You’re one of the toughest women I know. But you’re definitely in pain.”
She doesn’t reply. She throws her arms around my neck. She lets me carry her to the elevator and then into the penthouse.
I take her straight to my bedroom. She will be more comfortable there. I lay her on the plush king-sized bed.
She winces the moment I lay her on the bed. That fractured rib pulls at her with every breath.
“Do you need any more pain meds?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’m fine. The pain will subside now.”
We still need to talk about Kieran. I do not want to approach the subject while she’s in this much pain. We will talk after she rests for a while.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. A message from Maya pops up. I’m coming up.
“Maya is on her way up. Do you want me to send her away so you can rest?”
“No. I’m fine. I actually miss her. We have not talked for a few days.”
Maya knocks once and walks in. She stops at the side of the bed. Her eyes widen when she sees the bruises on Olivia’s face. She doesn’t say a word. She just reaches out and brushes a stray lock of hair off Olivia’s forehead. Her hands shake.
Maya’s eyes lock onto Olivia. She freezes.
“Oh my gosh, Liv. What the hell did that bastard do to you?”
A stray tear tracks down Maya’s cheek.
“I’m fine,” Olivia rasps. “Just a bit sore. But I’m okay.”
I don’t wait to hear more. I back out of the room. I have urgent work to do. Olivia is safe here. For now, that is enough.
I head for my office and lock the door behind me. I pull my phone out and dial Marcus.
“Find him,” I say. My voice sounds like gravel. “I want every scrap of data Kieran touched. Revoke his access to everything. Now. Pull a team. Search his office top to bottom. I want to know where he’s hiding.”
I hang up. My hands grip the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white. I dial Detective Reyes.
“Thorne,” she says. “We just finished at his place.”
“And?”
“He’s not just a stalker,” she says, her voice cold.
“It is worse. We found a room set up like an office. A whole wall covered in photos. Mostly of Olivia. Her place. The café. NexaCore. They go back to college. Years of surveillance. We found files on every location you frequent. He has been watching you both for nine years.”
“Reyes. The ransom demand—”
“Was never real,” she says, cutting me off. “No wire instructions ever came through because he never intended to collect a cent. It was a smokescreen. Something to make this look like a payday kidnapping instead of what it actually is.”
“Which is?”
“Obsession,” she says simply. “Money was never the motive. You were.”
There’s a pause on the line, heavy with what she isn’t saying yet.
“One more thing,” Reyes says, her voice coming through the speaker. “His file lists both parents as next of kin, but the address on record bounces back to a property out in New Jersey that’s already tied to an open case in another county’s system. I’ve put in a formal request for that file.”
She continues, “but a cross-jurisdiction pull like that can take a couple of weeks to come back. I’ll let you know the second it does.”
My throat closes up. Kieran. A psychopath in plain sight, sitting right down the hall from me. The office walls press inward, shrinking the room to a choke point. Air won’t go down. I yank at my collar, desperate for space, but the heat stays trapped in my chest.
“I’m processing the evidence,” Reyes says. “I will send you a copy of the file once we have everything.”
I end the call. My blood turns to ice. Nine years.
It is late when I finally drag myself back to the bedroom. Maya is gone. The room is quiet. Olivia is dead to the world. A tray sits on the nightstand. Half a plate of food remains. I pick it up and carry it out, then head for the shower.
I scrub under the hot spray. I try to wash the filth off, but the cold pit in my stomach stays.
I pull on a pair of sweatpants and walk back into the room.
I don’t get into the bed. I drag the leather chair from the corner and plant it next to her side of the bed.
I sit and watch her chest rise and fall.
My eyes burn. I don’t close them. I wait.
The woman I love is safe and with me. The raw, jagged edge of the rage begins to dull just enough to let exhaustion take over. I drift into a restless sleep.