The next morning.
Thaddeus jolted awake, heart pounding, his skin clammy with cold sweat. For a few moments, he lay motionless, disoriented and breathless, unable to shake the sense of dread that clung to him.
He pushed his well-built frame out from under the covers, reached for his phone on the nightstand, and squinted at the screen.
Over twenty missed calls—all from his grandfather.
Ever since being discharged from the hospital, Thaddeus had suffered from persistent headaches every night, likely some lingering aftereffect. For three or four days now, he hadn’t managed a single full night’s sleep.
Last night, finally at his limit, he’d given in and taken a sleeping pill, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep until morning.
Rubbing his aching temples, he sat up, intending to call his grandfather back. But before he could dial, Gordon’s voice came from outside the door.
“Mr. Thaddeus, are you awake?”
“What is it?”
“Mr. Hamilton has arrived, sir. He’d like to speak with you downstairs.”
After a quick shower, Thaddeus dressed in a crisp black suit and, on his way to the living room, tried calling Chasel. The last time they’d seen each other, Dr. Bright had slapped him across the face and they’d parted on terrible terms. But whether it was his emotional numbness or simply his priorities, Thaddeus didn’t care about such things. All he wanted was for his body to recover, so his work wouldn’t be affected.
But after three attempts, Chasel’s phone was still off.
Frowning, Thaddeus slid his phone back into his pocket.
In the living room, the Abernathy men were all gathered, the air thick with tension.
“Grandpa. Dad.” He greeted them formally, then turned his steady, dark gaze to Hamilton. “Grandpa, you wanted to see me?”
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