Chapter 173: A Consultation Room Not Listed in the Registration System

The banquet hall was emptying out. Staff moved around clearing tables, and the lighting shifted from stage mode back to normal daylight.

Todd walked over.

He had a glass of water in his hand. He held it out to Nora.

Nora took it. Drank. Plain cold water.

He paused for a beat. "Atlas — dead three years, and he's still looking out for you."

Nora felt her nose sting.

She took another sip. The cold water was just enough to push back whatever was rising in her throat.

Todd let out a small laugh. It was barely there — somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, hard to tell which.

"This move of Atlas's — even I didn't see it coming. Binding his most important little sister to his most trusted person — with two copper coins."

Nora turned and faced the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The city lights spread out across the dark, the skylines of high-rises layered near and far. In the glass, three reflections looked back — her in the middle, Todd on the left, and Oliver on the right, appearing at some point without her noticing.

The exact same positions as the sitting room that morning.

But this wasn't a negotiation.

Oliver stood beside her. Quiet. Hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed. The dust on the knee of his suit had been brushed off — Nora noticed, and said nothing.

Her phone buzzed in the hidden pocket.

She took it out.

Calla.

[Congratulations. Ms. Thorne.]

Nora looked at it for a couple of seconds. Handed the phone to Oliver.

Oliver glanced at it. Gave it back.

"Just send her one word."

"What word?"

"Thanks."

Nora smiled.

A real smile. Not polite, not guarded.

She typed the word and sent it.

Then turned her phone off.

A car passed outside the windows, its headlights sweeping across the glass from left to right. The three reflections rippled for a moment, then settled.

Todd left first. At the door, he turned back.

"Nory."

"Yeah?"

"Take care of those coins. Stop keeping them in your skirt pocket. Get a box or something."

Nora looked down at the two Taiping Tongbao coins resting together in her palm.

The patina on each was different. Hers had been carried for over a decade — the edges had been worn smooth by body heat and handling, a thin layer of polish built up over time. Oliver's was newer, but the worn spots matched hers perfectly. Atlas must have rubbed the marks into one coin first, then mirrored them onto the other.

Brother. She said it in her head.

No grand words. Just that.

Oliver touched her arm lightly.

"Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Home."

Nora paused for half a second.

"Your home or mine?"

Oliver didn't answer. He headed for the door.

Nora took a couple of steps after him, then stopped.

"Oliver."

He turned.

"Before you knelt — were you nervous?"

Oliver thought about it.

"No."

"Liar."

"…The second my knees hit the floor, maybe a little."

Nora tucked the two coins into her hidden pocket and fastened it shut.

"Let's go. Don't go hurting your knees again. You'll need them."

The two of them walked out of the banquet hall one after the other.

In the hallway, Wyatt was leaning against the wall waiting. When he saw them come out, he stepped aside. He had the car keys in his hand. He hesitated, then held them out.

Oliver took them.

"I'll drive."

Wyatt nodded. Turned to go.

Took two steps, then came back.

"Mr. Percy."

"Yeah."

Wyatt rubbed his hands together. This man, who had kept a straight face for the past twenty-four hours, now had ears that were red to the tips.

"Congratulations."

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. Said nothing.

Nora watched from beside them.

She suddenly remembered that Wyatt had been running around the building all day — setting up lights, checking the sound system, confirming the seating chart. She had assumed it was standard banquet prep.

He'd known all along.

"Wyatt." Nora called out to him.

Wyatt stopped.

"How long have you known?"

Wyatt's ears went even redder.

"…A week."

Nora drew a slow breath.

A week.

Todd had known for three days. Wyatt for a week. The whole world knew — and she was the last one.

Oliver had already made it to the parking garage. Nora caught up quickly, and as she pulled open the passenger door, she said:

"Next time something like this happens."

Oliver's hand froze on the ignition.

"Tell me ahead of time. So I can wear flats. I've been standing in heels all night. My legs are killing me."

Oliver started the car.

They pulled out of the parking garage and merged into the flow of traffic in the night.

Nora's phone was off, the coins were in her hidden pocket, and the comm device was still clipped inside her collar.

She leaned back in the passenger seat and closed her eyes.

She wasn't asleep yet. Her phone buzzed in the hidden pocket — a buzz on a switched-off phone could only mean one thing: a forced push from the encrypted channel.

She took it out and looked.

Storm.

[East district office building — Chase left ten minutes ago. Not heading to the hotel, not the airport. His car is going north toward Harmony Private Clinic. Two people in the car. Ryder visually confirmed — Julian.]

Nora held the phone and turned the screen toward Oliver.

Oliver glanced at it.

The car speed didn't change. But he moved his right hand from the wheel and pressed a button on the center console.

The comm channel opened.

"Wyatt, pull up the surveillance feed for Harmony Private Clinic."

"Already on it. We caught Chase on footage thirty seconds ago — he went into the clinic's basement level. Julian didn't follow. He's waiting in the car."

Nora pressed her thumb against the edge of her phone.

Basement level.

Harmony Private Clinic's basement — when Storm had scoped it out three months ago, it was listed as an equipment room and archive storage.

But that was three months ago.

"Wyatt, what's on the basement level now?"

The comm channel went quiet for two seconds.

Wyatt's voice came back.

"Our people got hold of the clinic's latest floor plans ten minutes ago. The basement was renovated last month. They added a private treatment room. It's not registered in the public system."

Nora and Oliver both went silent.

An unregistered treatment room.

The place Chase went to the moment the banquet ended.

"Is anyone in that room?" Nora asked.

Wyatt's reply came slowly. About five seconds.

"Yes. Long-term inpatient. The cameras didn't catch the face, but—"

He stopped.

"But what?"

"The patient ID prefix on the monitor screen next to the bed matches The Ashes internal personnel coding system."

Nora's grip tightened.

Someone from The Ashes.

Hidden in an unregistered treatment room.

Long-term inpatient.