He froze. His face went completely white. He had no idea how long I’d been standing there.
“Dad,” he stammered. “I…I was just—”
I didn’t let him finish.
I stumbled forward, my hand on my heart.
“Ryan, I…I heard you yelling. What’s happening? Who is Reed? What did he mean, ‘fix this’?”
Ryan’s mind was racing. I could see the gears turning, the lies forming. He put his arm around my shoulder, his grip too tight, guiding me back toward the waiting room. His fake comforting son persona was back, but it was cracked, desperate.
“Dad, you—you misunderstood. Dr. Reed is Emily’s psychiatrist. I was just…I was angry. I was yelling at him because I feel like he failed her. He should have warned us she was this unstable.”
“Unstable?” I whispered. “Suicide risk. He thinks…he thinks she might have done this on purpose?”
“Dad,” Ryan said, his voice catching as he tried to pivot, “he thinks she tried to kill herself.”
“But why?” I asked, letting my voice crack again.
“He doesn’t know. Maybe it’s…maybe it’s my fault,” he said, lowering his eyes. “The stress of your new money. It’s been a lot for her. Maybe she felt inadequate.”
It was a brilliant, disgusting lie. He was already planting the idea that my $60 million was the problem—the destabilizing force that had driven his wife to this.
I let him guide me back to the chair.
“I…I need to go home, son,” I whispered. “This is…this is too much. My heart…I can’t be here. Will you be okay?”
Relief washed over his face. The last thing he wanted was me here asking questions, being seen by doctors who weren’t on his payroll.
“Yes, Dad. Of course,” he said, his voice dripping with false concern. “You go home, get some rest. You look terrible. I’ll stay here. I’ll handle everything with Dr. Reed when he gets here. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”
He practically pushed me toward the exit.
“Take a cab. I’ll pay for it.”
“Okay, son. Okay.”
I walked out of the hospital, a frail old man, trembling, devastated. The act held until the automatic doors slid shut behind me.
The second the night air hit my face, my back straightened. The trembling stopped. The grief vanished, replaced by a cold, hard focus.
It was 3:00 a.m.
I got in a cab.
