Chapter 18
“The Masked Nurse
The silence after her departure stretched long and brittle. Ares didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just
sat there, his breath shallow, his thoughts a rapid cyclone behind his eyes.
“Someone you once broke.”
The words sliced deeper than he cared to admit.
He glanced again at the empty doorway, expecting hoping she might return, that he’d misread
the look in her eyes, the tremble in her voice. But she didn’t come back.
Instead, the house remained quiet. No footsteps. No rustle of linen. Just that ghost–piano
playing somewhere in the east wing again, softer now, like a whisper dragging memories from
their graves.
He cursed under his breath and shifted in the chair, reaching for the cane. It had rolled halfway
under the desk. He leaned forward, wincing, then froze.
A sheet of folded paper lay under the desk’s edge.
It hadn’t been there before.
He picked it up.
The top edge bore a faint fingerprint smudge small, deliberate. His name was written on the
outside in sharp black ink. His full name.
Ares Matteo Calloway.
Only three people had ever used his middle name.
Two were dead.
The third had vanished years ago.
He unfolded it with unsteady fingers.
Inside, a quote. Just a single line. Written in the same jagged handwriting:
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A man who forgets the hands that held him is destined to fall from grace twice.”
There was no signature.
He read it three times.
And on the fourth, he crushed the note in his fist and stood.
“Roman!” he shouted.
The butler appeared in the doorway a minute later, brows lifted in concern.
“Where did you find her?”
“Sir?”
“The nurse.”
Roman cleared his throat. “She arrived this morning with full clearance from Mr. Calloway.
Signed medical directives, her licensing, even a referral from Dr. Harrow.”
Ares narrowed his eyes. “Did you check it?”
“Of course.”
“And?”
“It all checks out.”
“She left me this.” Ares threw the crumpled paper onto the floor.
Roman bent, unfolded it, read it silently, then looked up. “Is this a threat, sir?”
“No.” Ares snatched the paper back. “It’s a warning.”
“Do you want her dismissed?”
Ares hesitated.
Dismiss her?
But then he’d never know.
He’d never see behind that mask. Never touch the truth wrapped around her throat in the form
of a necklace, she had no right to wear.
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“No,” he said finally. “Let her stay.”
Roman nodded once, eyes still cautious. “Anything else, sir?”
“Bring her to me after dinner. I want her in this room. No excuses.”
“Yes, sir.”
Roman disappeared like a ghost himself.
Ares stared at the paper again before slowly folding it and slipping it into the drawer beside the
pendant box he hadn’t opened in years.
Later that evening, the nurse entered without a sound.
She always did.
He sat at his desk, a file of old company documents open before him not that he was reading
them.
Her gloves were off. That was new.
Pale hands. Delicate fingers. A faint scar along her left knuckle.
He stared. She didn’t acknowledge it.
“You called for me,” she said evenly.
“Take off the mask.”
She didn’t respond.
“I won’t ask twice,” he warned.
“You’re not in a position to threaten me.”
“You sure about that?”
She moved forward, stopping at the edge of his desk.
“You wanted me here. I’m here. Now say what you need to say.”
He leaned forward. “That necklace where did you get it?”
“I told you. It was a gift.”
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Chapter 18
“You keep using that word.
Like it means something.
“It does.”
“Not when it’s stolen.”
:
She met his gaze squarely. “You gave it to a woman once. Do you remember?”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“Then don’t pretend you’ve forgotten.”
Ares stood, using the desk for leverage. “If this is a game
“It’s not,” she said.
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“Then who are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does now.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re in my house, in my space, crawling into pieces of my past like you belong there.”
She stepped closer. “You want the truth?”
He didn’t answer.
“You’re not ready for it.”
“I decide what I’m ready for,” he snapped.
“Then listen.” Her voice dropped into something gentler. “You were broken. I was asked to come
help. That’s the beginning and end of what I’m allowed to say.”
“Who asked you?”
She hesitated. “Someone you once trusted.”
He blinked. “That list is short.”
“I know.”
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Chapter 18
Ares studied her face. The mask. The scarl. Everything is calculated and precise. Too precise.
“Why won’t you take it off?”
“Because it you knew who I was, you’d never let me stay.”
“And if I threw you out?”
“I’d come back.”
“You think you matter that much?”
“No,” she whispered. “I think you do.”
He stared.
She turned away and reached for the tea again. Always tea.
He grabbed her wrist.
Not hard. Not aggressive. Just enough.
She froze.
“I don’t want tea.”
“You never do.”
“Then why keep bringing it?”
She turned her head slightly. “Because once… you did.”
He released her.
She set the cup down anyway.
“Why are you here?” he asked again.
She didn’t look at him.
But her answer was clear.
“To see what’s left.”
Hours passed before Ares slept.
But dreams didn’t come.
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Only memories.
And in the middle of the night, he woke to find the tea untouched. Cold.
And the pendant on his bedside table.
She had placed it there.
No note.
No message.
Just that gleaming piece of the past, shining like a dare in the dark.
Waiting to be remembered.
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