DO YOU WANT TO TRY?

Claire hid the photograph inside a book in the estate library.

She did not show Ethan.

The decision filled her with guilt, but his secrecy had created a distance between them that love alone could not cross. Every night he held her as if he feared she would vanish. Every morning he left before she could ask where he was going.

Claire began recording dates, names, and inconsistencies in a private notebook.

Mara’s report had disappeared.

The financial records had vanished from the car.

A warning had been placed inside Claire’s handbag.

A photograph proved Mara returned to the hospital after her official resignation.

All paths led back to Dr. Harrow.

Yet Claire still could not understand Celeste’s role.

Two months before the expected birth, an ivory envelope arrived at the estate.

It contained an invitation to Amelia Vale’s wedding.

Amelia was Ethan’s younger sister and the only member of the Vale family who treated Claire’s wheelchair as a temporary fact rather than a permanent identity. She visited without offering pity, argued about nursery colors, and once threatened to roll Claire directly into Harrow’s office if he refused to answer another question.

Amelia wanted Claire beside her during the wedding ceremony.

Celeste objected.

“The ballroom will be crowded,” she said during dinner. “The attention will overwhelm her.”

Claire set down her glass.

“I’m sitting at the table.”

“I am discussing practical concerns.”

“You are discussing me as if I’m not here.”

Amelia turned to her mother.

“Claire is attending.”

Celeste’s eyes moved toward Ethan.

He hesitated.

Only briefly.

But Claire noticed.

Later, she confronted him in their bedroom.

“You don’t want me at the wedding.”

“That isn’t true.”

“You looked at your mother before answering.”

“Because she controls the guest arrangements.”

“No. Because you are afraid of something.”

Ethan crouched beside the wheelchair.

“There will be hospital trustees, foundation directors, journalists, and hundreds of guests. Harrow will be there.”

“So will you.”

“I may not be able to stay beside you every second.”

“I am not asking for permission to attend your sister’s wedding.”

Ethan closed his eyes.

Claire saw exhaustion in his face, but also guilt.

“What did you find?” she asked.

“About what?”

“Northstar.”

He stood too quickly.

“That investigation is still active.”

“You promised to tell me everything.”

“And I will.”

“When?”

“When telling you does not put you in more danger.”

Claire reached into the library book that she had brought upstairs and removed the photograph.

Ethan’s face changed when he saw it.

“Where did you get this?”

“A nurse gave it to me.”

“What nurse?”

“I don’t know.”

“You went to the hospital alone?”

“I went because my husband stopped answering questions.”

Ethan studied the photograph.

He recognized the service corridor behind Mara and Harrow. It led to the restricted research wing, a section supposedly closed for renovation.

“You knew about this corridor,” Claire said.

Ethan did not deny it.

“How long?”

“Three weeks.”

“And you said nothing.”

“I was trying to locate Mara.”

“Did you?”

He looked toward the closed bedroom door.

Then he lowered his voice.

“I found her apartment. It had been emptied. Her employment records were sealed, and her phone was disconnected.”

Claire felt the room grow colder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because two men followed me after I left her building.”

The anger drained from Claire’s voice.

“Are they still following you?”

“I don’t know.”

Ethan took the photograph and turned it toward the bedside lamp. In the reflection of a glass door behind Mara, another figure could be seen standing inside the research wing.

The face was unclear.

The clothing was not.

A woman wore a white coat fastened with a distinctive sapphire brooch.

Claire had seen that brooch many times.

Celeste wore it to every meeting of the Vale Foundation.

Ethan stared at the reflection.

“My mother was there.”

Before Claire could answer, someone knocked on the bedroom door.

The estate manager entered carrying a small gift box that had been delivered with no sender’s name.

Inside was a silver bracelet from the Lane Pediatric Rehabilitation Program.

Beneath it was a handwritten card.