Chapter 2 - The Thursday Intrusion
Thursday morning arrived with the heavy, damp chill of early autumn. The grandfather clock in the main hall struck nine times. Exactly sixty seconds later, the front door unlocked.
"Good morning, Hannah," Dr. Hale’s voice echoed through the foyer, smooth and polished like old mahogany. "And how is our patient today? Still holding up against the ghosts of Pier 17?"
"He's on the terrace, Doctor," Hannah replied, her voice remarkably steady.
I sat rigidly in my armchair, listening to the rhythmic tap of Hale’s loafers on the Persian rug. He approached with the casual confidence of a man who owned the room. He had owned my life for five years, acting as the bridge between my shattered past and my helpless present.
"Grant," Hale said, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You look tense. Still brooding over the ghosts?"
"Ghosts are harder to kill when you live in the dark, Vernon," I muttered.
"Ah, well. We'll fix that. Let's get your morning maintenance done."
I tilted my head back, exposing my unblinking eyes to the man I trusted most in the world. I heard the glass dropper click against the amber bottle. Two cold drops hit my left eye, then two in my right. Instantly, a familiar, mild burning sensation spread behind my eyelids—a sensation I had accepted for half a decade as standard medical therapy.
"There," Hale murmured, packing his kit away. "Keep your eyes closed for ten minutes to let the solution absorb. I'll see you next week."
He turned and walked toward the foyer. But this time, he didn't check his portfolio immediately. He left it sitting unattended on the mahogany entry table while he paused to speak briefly with the estate manager about supply deliveries.
That split-second window was all Hannah needed.
May you like
I heard the faint, nearly silent slide of leather against wood, a soft click, and then the muffled rustle of fabric. Within ten seconds, the bag was zipped back up. Hannah reappeared on the terrace, slipping a tiny, cold glass vial into my open palm.
My fingers closed around it. The game had begun, and Vernon Hale had no idea he was playing with a shark.
