June shook her head. “I want nothing,” she said. “Only that you protect her. And be careful who stands near her when she sleeps.”
Those words stayed in Leonard’s mind like ice. The next morning, doctors examined Catherine. They were stunned. No pain. No confusion. No neurological distress. They called it a spontaneous remission. Leonard did not correct them. He simply held his mother’s hand.
But June’s warning would not leave him. He ordered his security chief to quietly review access logs, hallway footage, and staff movement records from the past month. No one was told why. Not even Catherine.
Three nights later, the security chief entered Leonard’s office with a tablet.
“Sir,” he said. “Someone entered Mrs. Sloan’s private corridor repeatedly at night.”
Leonard’s stomach tightened. “Who.”
The footage played. A man in a tailored suit walked calmly toward Catherine’s door carrying a briefcase. He knocked. Entered. Left minutes later. Always between two and three in the morning. Leonard recognized him instantly. Michael Trent. His chief financial officer. His oldest business ally. The man who had helped build the company from the beginning.