Chapter 4 - The Accident Report With Two Endings
Nobody moved after Camille's question.
Nico's face became still in the way Adeline had learned to fear.
Not because he was about to explode.
Because he had stopped wasting movement.
"What does that mean?" he asked again.
Camille looked toward her father.
Arthur Ashcroft's expression warned her to stop.
She did not.
"You spent eight months blaming your body," she said. "Blaming doctors. Blaming therapy. You never once asked why the accident happened."
The room seemed to shrink.
Bruno stepped closer.
Nico's voice dropped.
"It was raining."
Camille smiled.
"Was it?"
Arthur grabbed her arm.
"We're leaving."
Nico looked toward security.
"Let them."
Camille stared at him.
"You want answers?"
"Not from you tonight."
She laughed.
"Still pretending you're in control."
Nico did not answer.
That frightened her more than anger would have.
Camille and Arthur left through the front doors under the eyes of half the Chicago people they had hoped to impress.
Within twenty minutes, the party had emptied.
The estate felt larger after everyone left.
Nico remained in the side hall.
Adeline knelt beside his chair.
"Your cheek is swelling."
"I've survived worse."
"That is not medical guidance."
He almost smiled.
Then Bruno returned carrying a thick folder.
"I should have given you this months ago."
Nico looked at him.
"What is it?"
"The first accident report."
Nico frowned.
"I have the accident report."
"No."
Bruno set the folder on Nico's lap.
"You have the final one."
The original report from the private investigator hired by the Alfieri attorneys was dated two days after Nico's crash.
His SUV had gone through a guardrail on a wet road and struck a concrete drainage wall.
The final report called it loss of control in rain.
The first report contained a photograph.
A brake line.
Not cleanly cut.
Damaged in a way the investigator described as inconsistent with impact.
Nico stared at the image.
"Why was this removed?"
Bruno looked ashamed.
"Your uncle Raffaele said the investigator corrected himself."
"My uncle has been dead five months."
"I know."
"Did you believe him?"
"I believed what was easier."
Nico laughed once.
"Apparently that is a family profession."
Adeline took the report.
"Who serviced the car before the crash?"
Bruno turned another page.
Ashcroft Automotive Security.
Arthur's company.
Nico looked up.
Camille's father had arranged armored vehicles and security modifications for half the family for years.
"That does not prove sabotage," Adeline said.
Nico looked at her.
"You don't have to protect me from conclusions."
"I'm protecting the evidence from your conclusions."
He stared at her for a second.
Then nodded.
"Fair."
The next morning, Nico brought in an outside mechanical engineer and a former state-police crash investigator.
No Alfieri employees.
No Ashcroft connections.
They reviewed photographs, repair records, and the wrecked SUV, which had been stored in a private warehouse because Nico had never allowed it destroyed.
The investigator emerged four hours later.
"The brake system was compromised before impact."
Nico's jaw tightened.
"Deliberately?"
"Likely."
"Likely is not deliberately."
"No."
The man appreciated the distinction.
"We need laboratory analysis on the recovered components."
Adeline stood near the door.
Nico looked toward her.
She knew what he was thinking.
The pills were not the beginning.
But she also knew what had to be said.
"Even if someone caused the crash, the spinal injury is real."
His eyes hardened.
"I know."
"I'm saying it because I don't want you waiting for one villain to explain every hard thing that happened afterward."
He looked away.
"My legs don't work because of the injury."
"Yes."
"And the pills?"
"May have made your recovery, cognition, and strength worse. They did not create the spinal damage."
He was quiet.
Then he said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Not selling me a miracle."
That afternoon Bruno finally located Delia Hart.
She was living in Milwaukee and working at a hospice agency under her middle name.
It took three calls before she agreed to speak.
When her face appeared on the encrypted video screen, Nico stopped breathing.
Delia looked older than he remembered.
Tired.
"Mr. Alfieri."
"You left."
Her expression hardened.
"I was removed."
"By who?"
"Camille."
Adeline leaned forward.
"Why?"
Delia looked at her.
"You're the new nurse."
"Yes."
"Then get out."
Adeline did not move.
Delia laughed bitterly.
"That's what I said too."
Nico's voice softened.
"Tell me."
Delia stared at him.
"I found pills that didn't match your chart. I reported it to Camille because she told me she was your medical power of attorney."
Nico went still.
"She was never my medical power of attorney."
Delia closed her eyes.
"I know that now."
"What happened?"
"She said the neurologist had changed the medication privately. I insisted on written orders."
Delia looked down.
"Two days later, controlled medication appeared in my locker."
Adeline felt cold.
Same method.
Same accusation.
"What did you do?" she asked.
"I demanded camera footage."
Nico and Adeline exchanged a look.
Delia continued.
"The camera had been offline."
"Then?"
"Camille's attorney offered me a choice. Resign quietly and keep my license, or face a theft complaint and an allegation that I had been inappropriate with Mr. Alfieri."
Nico's face turned dark.
"Inappropriate how?"
Delia looked embarrassed.
"Sexually."
Silence.
Adeline understood the trap instantly.
A private nurse accused of stealing controlled medication and exploiting a disabled patient.
Career over.
Maybe prison.
Nico rubbed his mouth.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
Delia's eyes filled.
"I did."
He looked up.
"What?"
"You were barely coherent. You called me Adeline."
Adeline froze.
Nico stared at her.
That was why he had mixed their names.
Not because Adeline reminded him of Delia.
Because the same drugged confusion had folded the nurses together in his memory.
Delia continued.
"You told me Camille handled everything."
Nico closed his eyes.
For the first time, he understood how thoroughly dependence had been weaponized against him.
Then Delia said, "I kept one thing."
She held up an old phone.
"A voicemail Camille left me after I resigned."
Nico opened his eyes.
"What does it say?"
Delia pressed play.
Camille's voice filled the room.
"You should have taken the money, Delia. Nurses who confuse concern with authority always regret it."
The recording ended.
Adeline looked at Nico.
He was no longer asking whether someone wanted him weak.
May you like
Now he knew.
The question was how many people had helped.
