Page 33 of Seal My Fate

It was planned. Calculating.

And all to benefit Ashford Pharma’s future profits and reputation.

Wren can tell what I’m thinking. “How’s Saint doing?” she asks, measured, and I can see, she doesn’t totally trust him yet. I understand why. He has as much to lose as the rest of his family if we succeed in exposing their crimes.

“He’s trying to snoop around at Ashford, as much as he can without drawing any attention,” I add. “But I know it can’t be easy for him.” I sigh. “He was never on good terms with his father to begin with, but there’s a big difference between disagreeing with his plans for you in life and having to accept he might be behind this kind of cover-up. His older brother passed away too,” I add. “Ten years ago. It’s how we grew closer. He knew what I was going through, losing you.”

It's no wonder Saint urged me to talk it out with Wren. He would probably give anything to have the chance to talk to Edward again.

It makes me treasure this moment even more, cozied up here together over tea and scones for what I hope is the first of many afternoons like this.

“Would you stay?” Wren asks, looking curious. “When all of this is over, I mean. Would you stay in England, with him?”

“I think so…” I can’t help the smile that curls on the edge of my lips when I think about a future with Saint. “I really like my job at the Foundation, and I can picture myself building a life here. With him. Of course, that all depends on us exposing the bastards who hurt you and stopping them from going ahead and releasing the drug,” I add. “Simple.”

“Simple,” Wren agrees with a rueful laugh. “Sometimes I can’t wrap my head around it,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m the nerdy scientist, and the most adventurous things you ever did were falling for toxic artist types.”

“Hey,” I protest, laughing.

“It’s true. How did we even end up here?”

“Because you tried to do the right thing,” I answer simply. “And that matters. Think of all the people who would be harmed if they move ahead with the flawed Alzheimer’s drug, all that hope for something that can’t ever help them.”

“And it’s not just the people holding out for a miracle now who would be harmed,” Wren says, her forehead creasing in a frown. “It’s the future of the whole field. Scientists and other drug companies would all switch to working from the same assumptions, the same protocols as Valerie proved. Or pretended to prove. It would set back finding a real treatment for years. Decades, even.”

We fall silent, reflecting on the high stakes. But while Wren is thinking about the medicine, I’m thinking about her. How to keep her safe and protected from these monsters. For now, she may be safe, cloistered away here in the country, but she can’t keep hidden forever.

One day, she’ll need to officially come back to life again.

“More tea?” she asks, getting up as my phone starts to buzz on the coffee table. It’s Saint calling to check in.

“I think I’m just about full of Earl Grey,” I smile. “How about we switch to wine?”

“I thought you weren’t ever drinking again,” she teases, clearing our plates.

“A sip or two won’t hurt. Hair of the dog,” I protest, picking up Saint’s call. “Hi baby,” I answer, and Wren gives a laugh.

“Hi, baby,” she echoes, sing-song.

“Shut up!” I give her a playful shove, and follow her to the kitchen, chatting to Saint as I go.

“It sounds like things are going well down there,” he says warmly.

“They are. Thank you for making me come,” I add. “We had a great talk. I feel much better about everything.”

“Good,” he replies. “Should I expect you back tonight, or do you want to stay down there?”

I look around. It’s dark outside the windows, and the wind whistles through the woods. “I think I’ll stay,” I decide. “I don’t really want to drive in this weather. God forbid I put a scratch on your precious car.”

Wren gives me a thumbs up. “There are plenty of groceries,” she says, smiling. “I can make my famous mac and cheese.”

“Your famously gross mac and cheese,” I joke.

“Not fair!”

Saint chuckles down the line. “I’m glad you’re getting the chance to spend some time together. Not that I won’t miss you in my bed tonight…”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I promise, and he makes a noise of approval.

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