Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER WHO OWNED THE RENOVATION
Dominic Coleman arrived before noon.
Nobody called him.
That was the first problem.
Nathan had mentioned the notebook to no one outside the cottage.
Gerald swore he had not contacted anyone.
I certainly had not.
Yet at eleven forty-three, a black sedan passed through the front gates and stopped beneath the mansion portico.
Dominic stepped out wearing a charcoal coat and the expression of a man arriving at a funeral he had already prepared for.
He was younger than Nathan by three years.
Same dark hair.
Same height.
Same Coleman eyes.
But where Nathan looked exhausted, Dominic looked polished.
He walked into the mansion as though it belonged to him.
Nathan met him in the library.
I remained near the door.
Dominic noticed me immediately.
"So this is the nanny."
I was getting tired of that sentence.
Nathan did not offer him a drink.
"Why are you here?"
Dominic removed his gloves.
"I heard you've locked down the estate."
"From who?"
"The gate staff."
"The gate staff aren't supposed to call you."
Dominic smiled.
"They didn't."
Nathan waited.
Dominic's smile faded.
"When a Coleman house locks its gates, people hear about it."
"Which people?"
"People who pay attention."
Nathan placed Elena's notebook on the table.
Dominic looked at it.
Only for a second.
But his face changed.
That second mattered.
Nathan saw it.
"What is that?" Dominic asked.
"You tell me."
Dominic did not touch the notebook.
"Elena's?"
"Yes."
His eyes softened in a way that almost looked genuine.
"I haven't seen her handwriting in a long time."
Nathan opened to the final page.
"Read it."
Dominic looked down.
He read the line.
ASK DOMINIC WHY HE CHANGED THE VENTS.
His expression remained composed.
"That's unfortunate."
"Unfortunate?"
"For you."
Nathan stared.
Dominic continued.
"You're grieving."
"My wife wrote your name."
"She wrote a lot of things during a difficult period."
I felt my stomach tighten.
Nathan's eyes changed.
"What difficult period?"
Dominic hesitated.
There it was.
The same language Ashford used.
Stress.
Grief.
Anxiety.
Perception.
A dead woman's questions being rewritten as instability.
"She was worried about you," Dominic said.
"About me?"
"About the pressure around the family."
"What does that have to do with ventilation?"
Dominic sighed.
"The renovation company belonged to one of my subsidiaries."
Nathan leaned forward.
"You never told me that."
"You never asked."
I almost laughed.
Everyone in this house had apparently attended the same school of infuriating answers.
Nathan's voice became quieter.
"You supervised the renovation?"
"I signed the contracts."
"Why?"
"Because you asked me to handle the property while you were in Europe."
"Did you change the children's ventilation?"
"The architects changed half the mansion."
"Why did Elena write your name?"
"I don't know."
Nathan slammed the notebook closed.
"Think harder."
Dominic's face hardened.
"Be careful."
The two words changed the atmosphere.
Nathan stepped around the desk.
"About what?"
"About turning grief into accusation."
"My sons have been sick for eight months."
"I know."
"They improved within hours of leaving that wing."
Dominic's eyes moved toward me.
That was the first time he looked genuinely interested.
"According to her?"
"According to their vital signs."
His gaze stayed on me.
"What exactly did you find?"
I smiled.
"Nothing."
He frowned.
"I thought you discovered something."
"I asked questions."
"About?"
"The weather."
Nathan understood immediately.
Dominic did not.
That was useful.
"You think this is funny?" Dominic asked.
"No."
I looked at him.
"I think it's interesting that you arrived before anyone told you what happened."
His expression changed again.
Very slightly.
"I told you."
"The gates."
"Correct."
"You came because the estate locked down?"
"Of course."
"Why?"
"Because this is my family."
"Then why didn't you go to the guest cottage first?"
Silence.
Nathan turned toward him.
Dominic blinked.
I continued.
"Your nephews are sick."
"I know."
"You heard something serious happened at the estate."
"Yes."
"You drove here immediately."
"Yes."
"But you came to the library."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"Where Nathan was."
"How did you know?"
Nathan's eyes went cold.
Dominic looked at him.
"Nathan, this is ridiculous."
"Answer her."
"I assumed you'd be here."
"Why?"
"Because it's your house."
"So are my sons."
Dominic stepped back.
"This woman has been here one day and you're letting her interrogate your family?"
"No."
Nathan's voice dropped.
"I'm watching her notice things."
Dominic looked at me with open dislike.
"Then notice this."
He pointed toward the notebook.
"My sister-in-law was frightened after her father died."
Nathan's hands curled into fists.
"She was seeing threats everywhere."
"Stop."
"She thought people were following her."
"Stop."
"She thought the house smelled strange."
Nathan moved.
I stepped between them before he reached his brother.
Not because Dominic deserved protection.
Because rage was exactly what someone wanted from Nathan.
Nathan looked down at me.
"Move."
"No."
His eyes were terrifying.
"Sarah."
"Your sons are watching from the cottage windows."
That stopped him.
He looked toward the lawn.
The cottage was visible through the library glass.
Two small faces stood behind the window.
Marcus and Mason.
Nathan stepped away.
Dominic straightened his coat.
"Remarkable."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"One day."
He smiled without warmth.
"One day in this house and you're already telling my brother what to do."
"I told him what his children could see."
Dominic walked toward the door.
Nathan spoke behind him.
"Did you know about Elena's inspection?"
Dominic stopped.
"What inspection?"
"Environmental."
"No."
"Did Trevor?"
"I don't know."
"Did you know Dean Mercer was helping her?"
Dominic turned.
This time, his control slipped.
Not much.
Enough.
"Dean was a driver."
"Dean is dead."
"I remember."
"Trevor signed his death certificate."
Dominic stared at Nathan.
"What's your point?"
"I haven't decided."
Dominic looked at me once more.
Then left.
Nathan waited until the sedan disappeared beyond the gates.
"You think he's involved."
"I think he lied."
"About what?"
"Elena."
Nathan's face tightened.
"You didn't know she thought people were following her."
"No."
"He did."
Nathan looked toward the notebook.
"Maybe she told him."
"Maybe."
"You don't believe that."
"I don't believe anything yet."
Gerald entered.
He carried a tablet.
"Mr. Coleman."
Nathan looked up.
"Security logs?"
"No."
Gerald's face was tense.
"The guest cottage medical supplies arrived."
"So?"
"They were delivered by Dr. Ashford's office."
I felt something inside me tighten.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago."
"Who accepted them?"
"One of the nurses."
Nathan headed for the door.
I followed.
We reached the cottage kitchen.
Two nurses stood beside a medical cart.
Dr. Ashford was not present.
A sealed box sat on the counter.
I looked at the twins.
Marcus was lying on the sofa.
Mason sat beside him.
Both looked worse.
Much worse.
Nathan saw it immediately.
"What happened?"
The nurse turned.
"They became fatigued about ten minutes ago."
My heart pounded.
"They were fine."
"Symptoms fluctuate."
I looked at the cart.
Fresh tubing.
Monitoring equipment.
An air purifier.
I stopped.
"When did that arrive?"
The nurse followed my gaze.
"With the supplies."
"Who requested it?"
"Dr. Ashford."
"Turn it off."
She frowned.
"What?"
"Turn it off."
"It's medical-grade."
Nathan stepped forward.
"Do it."
The nurse switched it off.
I walked toward the purifier.
The same faint sweet odor reached me.
Not strong.
Barely there.
But unmistakable.
I looked at Nathan.
His face went white.
"Get the boys outside."
The nurse protested.
"Mr. Coleman—"
"Now."
We moved Marcus and Mason onto the terrace.
Fresh air flowed around them.
Marcus leaned against his father.
Mason closed his eyes.
Nathan looked at the purifier through the glass door.
"What the hell is that?"
I did not answer.
I walked back inside without touching the machine.
A security officer inspected the delivery label.
The box had come from Ashford Medical Associates.
Nathan called Trevor.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
A third time.
Nothing.
"Find him," Nathan told security.
Gerald examined the purifier from several feet away.
"That's new."
The nurse shook her head.
"We use those with immunocompromised patients."
"Not this one," I said.
She looked at me.
"What do you mean?"
"Look at the base."
There were scratches near two screws.
Fresh ones.
Nathan bent slightly.
He did not touch it.
"You think somebody opened it."
"I think somebody opened everything connected to the air around your children."
One of the security officers lifted his radio.
Then stopped.
"Sir."
Nathan turned.
The man's face had changed.
"We located Dr. Ashford's car."
"Where?"
"Airport parking."
Nathan stared.
"Flight?"
"No record yet."
The officer listened to his earpiece.
Then looked at me.
"What?"
I asked.
He hesitated.
"There's something else."
Nathan's voice sharpened.
"Say it."
"We searched Miss Mitchell's room as part of the lockdown."
My stomach dropped.
The officer continued.
"We found an unlabeled bottle hidden beneath the lining of her travel bag."
Nathan slowly turned toward me.
Gerald looked stunned.
The nurse stepped away.
I said nothing.
The officer held up a sealed evidence pouch.
Inside was a small dark bottle.
I had never seen it before.
Nathan's face became impossible to read.
"Sarah."
"I don't know what that is."
The security officer continued.
"Preliminary field screening indicates it contains the same class of industrial contaminant detected on the purifier intake."
For the first time since entering the Coleman estate, I felt genuine fear.
Not because I thought Nathan would hurt me.
Because whoever was doing this had just made their first serious mistake.
They had framed me too quickly.
Which meant I had frightened them.
Nathan looked from the bottle to me.
"Take her phone."
I stared at him.
"Nathan."
"Now."
The security officer stepped closer.
I handed it over.
Nathan's expression remained cold.
"Search her room again."
Gerald opened his mouth.
Nathan raised one hand.
"No one speaks to her alone."
I held his gaze.
"You think I did this?"
His answer was worse than anger.
"I think I don't know you."
Then Marcus coughed behind us.
Nathan turned toward his son.
And while everyone watched him, I looked through the cottage window toward the mansion.
Someone stood behind the curtain of the second-floor east wing.
Watching us.
I could not see the face.
But I saw the hand.
May you like
And on one finger was a heavy gold ring.
The same ring Dominic Coleman had been wearing in the library.
