“Fuck, Vik. Today! If you can’t do it now, how about later tonight? Doesn’t that cocksucker sleep?”

A faint grin came to my lips. “I’ll see what I can do about upping his pain meds.”

“I’ve got this room until tomorrow. I’ll go back to work and see what I can learn. I don’t care what fucking time it is when you get free. Call and I’ll meet you here.”

“I’ll do my best.” Before I was about to hang up, I asked, “Who?”

Brody’s end of the line remained silent.

I repeated my question, “Who is Stewart planning on leaving the proprietorship of my contract to?”

“Vik…”

“Brody, fucking tell me. I don’t even understand how he thinks he can do this. I mean, if I get everything, all his money and property and Val’s education is complete, I don’t know why he thinks I’d agree to do what it says in there for anyone else.”

“In person, Vik, I’ll tell you in person. Make it work.”

AS SOON AS I stepped off of the elevator into our apartment, I knew something was amiss. Lisa was wringing her hands, as her larger than normal red-bordered eyes turned in my direction. Stopped in my tracks, I steeled my shoulders and asked, “What? What’s happened?”

“Ma’am, I wanted to call you, but Travis said you were on your way.”

“I was,” I confirmed. “Tell me, is it Stewart?” My heart began to race in anticipation. I reached for Lisa’s shoulders. “Tell me!”

“The doctors are here. Mrs. Harrington, I suggest you go to your suite and talk with them.” Of course, she meant the suite I shared with Stewart, not the one I’d been enjoying alone. Nodding, I tightly clutched my purse and stepped quickly toward the master bedroom suite. When I opened the door, a sea of eyes turned toward me. Immediately, I locked in on Dr. Duggar, Stewart’s oncologist. Turning, I also recognized Stewart’s cardiologist. Under normal circumstances, I’d assume that most specialists don’t make house calls. Stewart Harrington was not normal circumstances.

As I continued to scan the room and follow the new sounds, I saw my husband, with a large tube coming from his mouth and a machine that echoed with the sounds of breathing.

My hand went to my mouth. “Oh my God. What happened? He was fine this morning. I was just speaking with him.”

One of the nurses came forward and reached for my arm. “Mrs. Harrington—”

“No!” I yanked my arm away. “Someone tell me what happened.”

Dr. Duggar turned toward me. “Mrs. Harrington, in cases like this, we don’t always have answers. With the cancer alone, your husband could have continued to fight for weeks, maybe longer. Something happened this morning. When did you speak to him last?”

I tried to think. I was supposed to be at the warehouse at eleven. “I’m not sure, maybe about eleven-thirty, eleven-forty?”

Though I hadn’t noticed him before, Travis was standing on the far side of the room with his arms crossed over his massive chest and his dark eyes narrowed in my direction.

“Ma’am, that’s impossible,” the doctor said.

My neck straightened. “Excuse me? What do you mean?”

“What time did you leave here this morning?”

“After breakfast. Stewart was awake.” I pointed toward the blonde nurse. “Missy was here with him.” I shrugged. “Maybe about nine, give or take.” My glare deepened. “Tell me why I couldn’t have spoken to my husband when you said.”

“Ma’am, Mr. Harrington flat-lined this morning at approximately 9:47 AM. Missy performed CPR while Angela administered the defibrillator.”

My knees felt week as I moved toward Stewart’s bed. Dr. Duggar reached for my arm. “Your husband does not have a do-not-resuscitate order in place. Missy and Angela brought him back. However, right now he’s unable to breathe on his own. That’s why he’s intubated.”

“But? What happened?”

“Without surgery, we won’t know for sure. The chemotherapeutic medications that Mr. Harrington has been taking have been known to be detrimental to the heart muscle. I can only venture to guess that it was his heart.”

“And…” I looked toward the bed. Stewart’s eyes were now open and looking toward me. “…he’s conscious?” I took a step toward him.

“Yes,” Dr. Duggar replied. “We’re sure he can understand. I’m confident he can’t speak. That’s why I know you didn’t speak to him an hour ago.”

A gloss of perspiration created sheen to my suddenly clammy skin. I had—I’d heard Stewart’s voice. It sounded odd, but who else would have spoken? My gray eyes darted toward Travis. His lips snaked into an evil grin as I now recognized the warning in his still-narrowed gaze.

I turned my attention back to Dr. Duggar. “What’s the prognosis? Will you be able to remove this tube?”

Dr. Duggar shook his head. “He’s going in and out of consciousness. I don’t know of anything else we can do. Earlier, Mr. Harrington shook his head, indicating he didn’t want more pain medication, but I think it would make him comfortable until…”

“I have medical power of attorney,” I interrupted. “Surely, doctor, we can argue that the combination of medications and recent events has made it difficult, if not impossible, for Stewart to be able to be confident in his ability to make rational decisions—” As I spoke, Travis’s arms came down and he leaned forward.