Page 76 of Blind Prophet

They leave the door open, and Caroline and I watch the two of them travel down the corridor, presumably to his bedroom. The man lifts the blanket he was sitting under and leaves, mumbling, “I’ll be back to clean up.”

“Shall we go?” I ask Caroline.

Her straight spine might appear cold to a random onlooker, but I see the sadness and concern lurking in the depths of her light blue eyes and the downward turn of her graceful lips. Her trademark poise attracted me all those years ago, when she entered a pub of tipsy men. Even now, I’m still drawn to this woman, with a softer side she shares with few.

“I’m so sorry,” she says to me.

Why? I didn’t bring her here to receive pity. I’m not the one suffering a loss of dignity.

“How long has he been like this?”

“How long have I suspected, or how long has he been under in-home care?” I step to the door, ready to leave.

“I saw a news alert just last week that Halston Moore backed the Homestead Act. That he met with Senator Williams.” She slips her thumbnail to her teeth, thoughtful. Her eyes flash to me when she grasps the truth. “Why are you covering for him? Why not announce his retirement? Or let him drift into obscurity?”

I remain quiet. She’ll figure it out.

“He retains a board seat at Bedrock. You’re chairman of the board, but if he’s on the board, you control his vote. Hasn’t anyone gotten suspicious?”

I glance down the empty corridor, where my father disappeared.

“Dorian. You said you’d answer my questions.”

“And I will,” I say, the response harsher than intended. “Given his age, no one questions his reclusive nature. The existing board members are, if not friends, close associates from his early investment days. They backed my satellite ventures when everyone else thought private space infrastructure was a pipe dream. They understand I’m capable, that it’s a family company, and they’re content to let us handle succession quietly.” I adjust my Patek Philippe watch—a habit from my post-Oxford days, when I was still learning to navigate board rooms. “The SEC filings are impeccable, Caroline. Everything’s disclosed within legal parameters.

“About five years ago, the Bedrock Advisory board urged him to pass the chairman’s reins to me, his son. I suspect they had suspicions back then.” The accusation in her expression annoys me. “Should he retire? Yes. Absolutely. You try telling him that. What you just saw? It’s a bad day. He has lucid days. He’s holding on with all he has. That meeting with a senator? It probably happened. People fly out to meet with him all the time.”

“You don’t know if it happened?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Her eyes narrow into slits. “How, pray tell, am I looking at you?”

“Like you don’t trust me.”

Her hands flutter by her sides, a posture of frustration. She’s seconds away from closing down and retreating.

“If I wanted to know if he met with someone, I could find out. I have full access to his calendar. His staff reports to me. But I don’t care. Williams is a putz. He’s the one who probably put out that press release. That Homestead bill of his is smoke and mirrors with no substance. Political showmanship. You know the game.”

“How does it benefit you?”

“It doesn’t.”

Those liquid eyes freeze over, and our gazes lock. My body responds, like it always has with her. I want her close. The need to touch her, to put the squabbles behind us, is as strong as ever. We shouldn’t be fighting…not over my father. That’s why I brought her here. I have half a mind to drag her out of here and back to my bedroom, to leave these petty disagreements behind and remind her where we excel.

A door clicks, and the male staff member from earlier enters, wearing rubber gloves and carrying a cleaning bucket with supplies.

He sprays the area over the seat, wipes it, and exits. Is that really all they do to clean?

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay to say goodbye to your father.”

She’s conciliatory. Is she retreating into her shell?

“He was being kind. I don’t feel right about disappearing. If it’s difficult for you to be around him, you can head on, and I’ll walk back.”

I’m about to assure her I’m fine spending time with my father when he and the nurse return.

One look at his thin, straight, pursed lips, and I register the anger.

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