Chapter 3 - The Hidden Shadow
Nathan stood frozen in the hallway long after Clara walked away. Her words stung because they were entirely, brutally true. He was a coward. He had built an empire of concrete and steel because he couldn't bear the fragile reality of his own family.
Instead of returning to his study, Nathan went to the kitchen. He found Clara washing the mixing bowls by hand, her thin silver bracelet catching the light.
"Where did you get the recipe?" Nathan asked quietly, leaning against the marble countertop.
"My grandmother," Clara said without turning around. "She taught me that food isn't just fuel; it’s a language. When people lose the will to speak, they can still taste."
"Owen spoke to you," Nathan noted, a hint of jealousy and longing in his voice. "He hasn't spoken more than three consecutive sentences to me in six months."
"Because you look at him like he's already gone," Clara said, finally turning to face him, drying her hands on a towel. "And because you trust people who don't deserve it."
Nathan's brow furrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I was looking over Owen's daily medication schedule before I administered his afternoon dose," Clara said, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "I used to be a pharmacy technician before my grandmother got sick. Dr. Pierce has him on a heavy rotation of advanced beta-blockers and digitalis derivatives. But the dosages are... irregular. They are at the absolute maximum therapeutic threshold for someone of his weight. It’s not stabilizing his heart; it’s flattening his blood pressure to the point of permanent lethargy. It’s making him too weak to stand, too nauseous to eat."
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Nathan’s corporate instincts instantly flared. "Dr. Pierce is the chief of cardiology at St. Catherine's. He was recommended to me personally by my brother, Julian."
Clara looked at him with deep sympathy. "Then I suggest you look very closely at what your brother stands to gain if Owen doesn't make it to his twenty-sixth birthday."
