Page 110 of Cruel Hearts

“She’s fine, but I thought it’d be best if I check in. It’s been a few days. She’s doing well.” I pause. “She’s gotten close to someone, a man, and I wanted run that by you. Should I be concerned about it?”

Dr. Reagan breathes heavily into the phone and grunts as if he’s hefting himself out of a deep chair. “I wouldn’t think so. She’s relearning to socialize, and if he isn’t too demanding and respects her space when she needs it, spending time with others can only help draw her out. I’ve been reading through her medical history, and the documentation indicates she wasn’t allowed much, if any, one-on-one, private, conversation. She sat in on group therapy sessions and nurses allowed her to mingle outside on occasion, but they didn’t want her speaking to anyone but you and Ashton Black. No, I think it’s fine.”

That relieves me. I think she would have been disappointed if I’d needed to put a stop to her and Max spending time together. She’s already been deprived of so much. “I’m happy to hear it.” I lean against the wall, a cream sconce casting a yellow glow near my head. “Have you found out any information about the facility?”

“I was going to call tomorrow and let you know. I researched the sanatorium’s history, what I could, at any rate, and Ispoke to a friend at the American Psychiatric Association. When your sister was admitted, things at Quiet Meadows were quite unstable.”

I straighten and walk a few more steps down the corridor. “How so?”

“At the time, the owner wasn’t interested in furthering its reputation in the psychiatric community and didn’t want to keep possession of it.”

“What do you mean? Further its reputation?”

“With a facility such as Quiet Meadows, it’s encouraged, almost expected, that research is conducted and advancements in patient treatment are made. The doctors on staff wanted to move forward with Alzheimer’s and dementia testing, but they weren’t given the support they needed for such studies and drug trials. My contact at the association said it was about the time Zarah was admitted that the Blacks purchased the facility. I believe it was to give Ashton Black complete access and control over your sister. I doubt the Blacks cared about medical growth, but neither did the owner of the facility. The sale went through within hours. I found it interesting that the sale was kept under wraps.”

It would be like Ash to spend millions of dollars to keep my sister’s mouth shut. “Ash owns the facility now?”

“From what my contact could tell me. Holding companies buy and sell properties like a real-life game of Monopoly, but sifting through the present evidence, I have no reason not to believe it.”

I don’t either and say so. “I appreciate it, Dr. Reagan. Thanks for your time.”

“Goodnight, Zane. I’ll have my assistant give you a call to schedule Zarah’s follow-up.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

I disconnect the call and slip my phone into my pocket. It’s one more thing I can hang Ash for when all is said and done.

I head back to Max’s suite, and everyone is where I left them.

Not having anything else to do, I make a cup of coffee and sit at the conference table with Mel, Paulo, and Denton.

Denton’s eyes harden and his lip curls in disgust. I should talk to him soon. He believed Stella when I didn’t and I owe him for saving her life. He thinks I don’t deserve her, but no one knows that more than me whenever I look at her.

Once this is done and the dust settles, there’s a possibility she won’t want a relationship, that she’ll want what I’m giving Nathalie—a fresh start somewhere else. Where she won’t have to hear my name.

Stella notices me staring at her and wrinkles her nose. Quinn elbows her, and they laugh. I catch a glimpse of the girls they used to be growing up in foster care together, having only each other to rely on.

It’s coming up on midnight, and though I’m still not tired, I go to bed. It’s important I’m clearheaded, and I should rest when I can. Things will start happening soon, and who knows if there will be time to sleep.

In the Honeymoon Suite, I slide into the cool sheets wearing my boxers and nothing else. I scroll through the gossip sites and all anyone can talk about is what an asshole I am. When everyone believed Stella and Cardello ran away together, they called her a gold-digging tramp. Not many reporters or bloggers came to her defense. Now a still of my hand hovering in the air to slap her is being regurgitated everywhere online, and suddenly I’m the nastiest son of a bitch on the planet.

A man without compassion. Without a heart.

Comments under the picture range from praising me for not putting up with a woman’s shit, to saying I should have been arrested for assault.

No wonder Stella believed me. I look horrible, the rage on my face palpable. That photo was taken only a second before Paulo approached us.

She looks beautiful, of course. The fear in her eyes turns my stomach, but it’s what we needed. The comments and the blogger’s own slanted piece to accompany the photo tell me I did what I was supposed to do. Convince the world that Stella Mayfair and I are done, that I have no feelings for her. That I’m ready to move on. Dinner with Ash and Nathalie will finish the job.

Ash won’t suspect anything, and while I play at being his best friend, I’ll destroy the son of a bitch.

Stella opens the door wearing pajama shorts and a tank top. The bruise over her heart spread and darkened, and stiffly, she pads over to the bed.

“Hey,” I say, dropping my phone onto the bedspread.

“Hey. I heard you and Zarah went for a walk. How’s she doing?” She sits on the mattress, and it barely dips under her weight. Her hair is a mess of platinum around her shoulders, and her movements waft a vanilla scent through the air.

“Good. I spoke with her a little about the men Ash sold her to. Got a name and suspect a few others. Friends of my dad’s. So many people hate us, and I had no idea.”

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