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“Then use me.”
He said it as if the words cost him something. As if he already knew I would hate him for offering.
“Use the money. Use the name. Use whatever gets Lisa into that program.”
“Don’t talk about my daughter like she is a bill.”
“I’m talking about her like she is alive.”
That silenced me.
He looked at my phone on the counter. “If you leave here unmarried, what happens tomorrow?”
I looked away.
“They move her,” I whispered.
“And if you marry me?”
I hated him for placing my pride against Lisa.
“Why would you do this?” I asked.
His eyes flickered toward the window. “I can’t tell you everything yet.”
“Then my answer is no.”
“Please, Kirsten. I need one day of trust.”
My phone buzzed again. Hospital billing.
I thought of Lisa lying still while strangers decided what kind of chance she deserved.
Then I closed my eyes.
“Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll marry you. But if you are hiding something that hurts my daughter, I will never forgive you.”
Adrian looked at me like I had already wounded him.
“I know,” he said.
The courthouse wedding took eleven minutes.
The clerk asked if we were entering the marriage willingly.
Adrian said yes. Then she looked at me.
I thought of Lisa’s hand in mine, warm but still, and forced the word out.
“Yes.”
There was no music and no joyful witness, only a wilted gas station bouquet his driver had bought on the way.
When the clerk pronounced us married, Adrian did not try to kiss me. He only tightened his cold fingers around mine and squeezed.
“Lisa gets the transfer?” I whispered.
“Tonight,” he said. “I’ll do it myself.”
Back at the mansion, Adrian dismissed the nurse, the housekeeper, and the driver.
“Everyone out.”
The nurse glanced at me. “Are you sure?”
I looked at Adrian. His face was pale, but firm.
“Go,” I said.
When the door closed, he pulled out the crimson envelope.
“Open it.”
My stomach twisted.
Across the front was one name.
Lisa.
“Why do you have that?”
“Because this is why I really needed you.”
I tore it open.
The first page was an accident report.
Adrian’s name. His parents, deceased at the scene. Then, under surviving parties, Lisa.
“No.”
“Keep reading.”
I flipped the page and saw Lisa’s blue Honda under emergency lights. Rain shone across the crushed hood. From the mirror hung the yellow raincoat keychain.
My knees weakened. “She was there.”
Adrian’s voice broke. “Yes.”
“My daughter was in your crash.”
“Our crash.”
I turned on him. “You knew.”
“Not when we met.”
“But before today.”
He did not answer.
“Say it.”
“Yes.”
“You let me marry you before telling me Lisa was tied to the night your parents died?”
“I thought you would refuse the help.”
“Then you knew I deserved the truth.”
His eyes filled. “Yes.”
I pulled out another page. “What’s this?”
“Transfer records.”
“You went to a private trauma center?”
“My family’s emergency plan moved me there.”
“And Lisa went to County General.”
He looked down. “Yes.”