Chapter 27
Rowan's POV
I stood at the corridor corner, the garment bag from Jack draped over my arm. Clean clothes for Lena—her blouse and slacks from yesterday, laundered and pressed. I'd meant to knock on her door, hand them over, maybe check if her fever had stayed down.
Then I heard voices.
Lena's door wasn't quite closed. The conversation drifted out clearly.
"...then why did you spend two nights helping him when his startup was under attack in college?" Nora's voice, soft and probing. "When that competitor tried to destroy him with false accusations?"
I froze.
"I heard about it from your roommate," Nora continued. "If you didn't care about him, why go to all that trouble?"
Silence. Then Lena's voice, flat and steady: "I believe in fairness. Couldn't stand watching someone use dirty tactics. That's all."
The door closed with a quiet click.
I stood there, garment bag suddenly heavy in my hands.
That report. Seven years ago in Paris. The crisis that nearly destroyed my first venture—a competitor fabricating patent infringement claims, planting false stories in tech blogs, poisoning investor relations. Our professor had called for volunteers, framed it as a rare practical opportunity for students to engage with real-world legal strategy.
Someone had compiled a comprehensive report. Every hole in the rival's business model, every contradiction in their legal filings, every suspicious pattern in their financials. Seventy pages of meticulous research, complete with case precedents and counterargument frameworks. Anonymous submission. Professor credited the whole team.
That report had been the turning point. We'd won the case. My company survived.
I'd tried to find out who did it. Asked around. Got nowhere. Eventually assumed it was some eager law student looking to pad their résumé.
It was Lena.
She'd spent two days and nights digging through public records and financial databases. For what? Fairness? A principle?
Or something else she'd never admit?
I stared at her closed door. My mind spun through two years of marriage—a marriage I'd approached like a business arrangement because that's what it was supposed to be. Clean. Efficient. Mutually beneficial.
Lena came home on time every evening. We ate dinner in comfortable silence, then retreated to separate spaces—her to the study with case files, me to the home office with acquisition reports. She handled social obligations with practiced grace, never complained, never demanded attention. Cool. Competent. A little distant.
I'd thought that was just her personality. Reserved. Self-sufficient. Not the warmest person, but reliable.
Now I wondered what else I'd missed.
When was the last time I'd asked her about a case she was working on? When had I ever paid attention to the hours she put in, the precision of her work, the quiet excellence she brought to everything she touched?
I couldn't remember.
I'd categorized her as "low maintenance" and moved on.
Christ.
I walked to her door and set the garment bag down carefully against the frame. Didn't knock. Didn't announce myself.
Then I turned and headed back toward my room.
---
Nora was waiting by my door.
"Rowan!" Her face lit up with that practiced concern. "There you are. I knocked earlier—no answer."
"Yeah. I was out."
"I tried calling last night too." She tilted her head, studying me. "Your phone went straight to voicemail after midnight. Is everything okay?"
I'd silenced it. Completely. After the doctor left Lena's room, I'd moved to the empty suite next door—close enough to hear if she called out, far enough to avoid questions.
"Just had things to handle," I said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere near tired.
"All night?" Her tone stayed light, but her eyes searched my face. "You look exhausted." A pause. "Were you with Lena? How is she feeling?"
Something tightened in my chest.
"She's fine."
"That's good." Nora smiled. "I was worried when she left the meeting yesterday. Maybe I should bring her something? Tea, or soup from the restaurant downstairs?"
"She's resting. She doesn't need anything."
"I just want to help—"
"She's fine," I repeated, firmer this time. "Leave it."
Nora blinked. "I only meant—I know things have been tense between you two. I didn't want her to think I wasn't concerned. We're colleagues now, and—"
"Don't." The word came out sharper than I'd intended.
She stopped, eyes widening.
I took a breath. "Don't go looking for her. Don't ask her questions. Just... keep your distance."
"Rowan..." Her fingers twisted together. "I don't understand. I was only trying to be considerate. You've been working so hard, and I thought if Lena was unwell, maybe I could help—"
"You don't need to worry about me," I said, keeping my tone neutral but firm. "Or Lena."
"But I do worry." She looked up, eyes bright. "You matter to me, Rowan. Is that really so wrong?"
I held her gaze, letting the silence stretch. Then I said, very quietly: "Don't put your energy there."
Her face paled slightly.
"You know why you're here." I kept my voice even. "Your brother asked me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you landed somewhere good, had stable opportunities. That's what this is."
"That's not—"
"That's all it is."
The words hung between us. Nora's mouth opened, closed.
Now I just felt tired of her strategies.
"I think we understand each other now," I said.
She stared at me for a long moment. Then she nodded, once, stiffly.
I turned away, slid my keycard through the lock, and stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind me.