Chapter 3 - The Medicine That Made Evelyn Forget
Adrian spent the next morning behaving as though nothing had changed.
It was one of the hardest things he had ever done.
He ate breakfast with Celeste in the glass conservatory.
She talked about wedding invitations.
He nodded.
She mentioned changing the flowers from white roses to peonies.
He told her he liked peonies.
She reached across the table and held his hand.
"I missed you."
Adrian looked at the woman he had intended to spend the rest of his life with.
He remembered their first dinner in Manhattan.
Her laughter.
The way she had stayed beside him after Thomas died.
The nights she had answered Evelyn's phone calls at three in the morning because Adrian was too exhausted to speak.
If his mother's story was true, then those moments had been lies.
If Evelyn's doctors were right, Adrian was betraying an innocent woman because grief had made his mother paranoid.
He needed evidence.
He began with the medication.
After breakfast, Adrian entered Evelyn's bathroom while she was downstairs with Mara.
Seven prescription bottles stood inside the mirrored cabinet.
Blood pressure medication.
Sleep aids.
Anxiety medication.
And one bottle Adrian did not recognize.
Rivastigmine.
He searched the name on his phone.
It was commonly prescribed for dementia.
Adrian frowned.
His mother had never mentioned taking it.
Then he noticed another bottle.
Clonazepam.
The dosage was high for a woman Evelyn's age.
He photographed every label.
An hour later, Adrian called a neurologist he trusted in Boston.
Dr. Naomi Keller had treated one of his employees after a head injury.
Adrian sent her the medication list.
Her response came twenty minutes later.
Call me.
He stepped into the library.
"Naomi?"
"Who prescribed this combination?"
"My mother's doctor."
"Does she have Alzheimer's?"
"No formal diagnosis."
"Then why is she taking rivastigmine?"
"I don't know."
"And this clonazepam dosage is concerning."
"How concerning?"
"In an elderly patient? Confusion, memory problems, sedation, balance issues."
Adrian looked toward the library door.
"Could it make someone appear to have dementia?"
Silence.
"Potentially."
His grip tightened around the phone.
"What if someone increased the dose?"
"Adrian, what are you asking me?"
"Could medication make an intelligent elderly woman seem forgetful, unstable, disoriented?"
"Yes."
Adrian closed his eyes.
"But don't jump to conclusions."
"Who would need access to prescribe it?"
"A physician."
"Or someone who could alter what she takes?"
"Anyone handling the pills."
Adrian thanked her and ended the call.
He went directly to Mara.
"Who gives Mom her medication?"
The housekeeper looked uncomfortable.
"Usually Miss Celeste."
Adrian said nothing.
Mara understood immediately.
"Mr. Adrian, your mother asked me not to interfere."
"Why?"
"Miss Celeste said the doctor wanted consistency."
"What about Dr. Mercer?"
"He comes every Tuesday."
Today was Wednesday.
"When was his last visit?"
"Yesterday."
Adrian checked the security system.
Vale House had thirty-two cameras.
The archive showed Dr. Mercer arriving Tuesday at 10:03 a.m.
He remained fifty-one minutes.
But there was no recording of him leaving.
Adrian searched the next camera.
Nothing.
Then he noticed a gap.
Between 10:49 and 11:17, the entire camera network had stopped recording.
Adrian checked older dates.
The same thing happened every Tuesday.
Always during Mercer's visit.
Someone had been disabling the surveillance system.
Adrian copied the logs onto a flash drive.
When he turned around, Celeste was standing behind him.
"What are you doing?"
Adrian closed the laptop.
"Checking the security system."
"Why?"
"The east gate malfunctioned."
Celeste watched him.
"Did it?"
"According to Mara."
She smiled faintly.
"You're a terrible liar."
Adrian leaned against the desk.
"So are you."
Neither moved.
Finally Celeste laughed.
"Is this about your mother?"
"Why would it be?"
"Because she's been filling your head with stories since you arrived."
"What stories?"
"You tell me."
Adrian walked closer.
"Did my father dislike you?"
Celeste blinked.
"Thomas and I had disagreements."
"About what?"
"The foundation."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Did he ask me to end our engagement?"
Celeste's face changed.
There.
Again.
That instant of fear.
"Who told you that?"
"My mother."
"Adrian..."
"Did he?"
Celeste turned away.
"He thought I was after your money."
Adrian almost laughed.
"Dad thought everyone was after money."
"He investigated my family."
"What did he find?"
"Nothing."
"Then why are you nervous?"
Celeste faced him again.
"I'm not nervous. I'm exhausted."
She moved closer.
"Your mother is sick. I have spent seven months trying to help her while you've been flying between London, Singapore, and New York pretending your family isn't falling apart."
The words struck their target.
Adrian's guilt.
Celeste knew exactly where to place the knife.
"You weren't here when she screamed at three in the morning."
"I know."
"You weren't here when she forgot who I was."
"I know."
"You weren't here when she tried to open the gate and walk into traffic."
Adrian looked away.
Celeste softened.
"I love you."
He wanted to believe her.
That was what made it dangerous.
She touched his face.
"I know losing Thomas destroyed something in you."
Adrian met her eyes.
"He was alive when you found him?"
Celeste's hand stopped.
"Yes."
"You told the police he was dead."
"He was dying."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
"Not one word?"
"No."
Adrian watched her carefully.
Celeste moved away.
"I called the ambulance."
"And my mother?"
"She was sleeping."
That lie was so effortless that Adrian almost admired it.
He nodded.
"Okay."
Relief flickered through Celeste's eyes.
She left the room.
Adrian waited until her footsteps disappeared.
Then he opened the security archive again.
His father's death had occurred seven months earlier.
Much of the footage had been deleted.
But one server in the basement automatically generated low-resolution backup thumbnails.
Adrian searched the date.
9:41 p.m.
Thomas entered the study.
9:46.
Celeste entered.
10:02.
The feed went black.
10:19.
Celeste emerged.
Adrian leaned closer to the screen.
Something was visible in her right hand.
Small.
Metallic.
A chain.
His father's brass key.
Then another thumbnail appeared.
10:23 p.m.
Someone else entered the study.
Adrian stared.
The figure wore a dark coat and hat.
The face was hidden.
But on the person's right hand was something Adrian recognized.
A heavy silver ring bearing the Vale family crest.
Only three rings like it had ever existed.
One belonged to Thomas.
One belonged to Adrian.
May you like
And the third had been buried twelve years earlier with Thomas's younger brother.
Roman Vale.
