“He opened his eyes.”
The nurse came closer.
“Mr. Thornton?”
Ethan was motionless again.
She checked his pulse.
“
His heart rate is elevated. You should leave.”
“But he was awake.”
“He may be experiencing brief periods of partial consciousness. Too much stimulation could set back his recovery.”
There was nothing unkind in her voice, yet something about the timing troubled me.
I stood.
As I reached the door, she called after me.
“Mrs. Thornton?”
I turned.
Her gaze lowered toward my closed hand.
“You dropped something.”
The pen lay beside the chair.
I picked it up.
The folded receipt remained hidden in my palm.
Back in my bedroom, I locked the door.
Then I unfolded the paper.
MARA.
The name meant nothing to me.
I searched my phone.
There were dozens of women named Mara connected to Thornton companies, charities, and social events. None stood out.
Then I searched old articles about Ethan’s accident.
