Chapter 7 - Cyrus Smiles at the HospitalCyrus entered the hospital like he owned grief.
Dark suit. Perfect hair. Concern arranged beautifully across his face.
“Marcus,” he said, opening his arms as if we were brothers in any meaningful sense. “I came as soon as I heard.”
I did not move.
His eyes shifted to Zion behind the glass, then to Emily.
For half a second, the mask slipped.
Not enough for most people to notice.
But I noticed.
So did Emily.
So did Detective Bennett.
Cyrus recovered instantly. “And who is this?”
“The woman who saved my son,” I said.
His smile tightened. “How fortunate.”
Emily lowered her gaze, but her hands did not shake this time.
Cyrus turned to Detective Bennett. “I assume this is all standard procedure?”
“Attempted harm to an infant is never standard, Mr. Whitaker.”
His eyebrows rose. “Attempted harm? That sounds dramatic.”
“You came to the right family,” Emily murmured.
I almost smiled.
Cyrus heard her. His eyes sharpened.
“Do I know you?”
“No,” she said. “But I think your people know me.”
Detective Bennett stepped in. “Mr. Whitaker, when did you last speak with Margaret Hale?”
Cyrus gave a perfect pause. Not too short. Not too long.
“Margaret? The nanny? Months ago, when I recommended her. Why?”
“She disappeared last night.”
“How troubling.”
“Very,” Bennett said. “Especially since your phone records may help us understand whether anyone contacted her before she left.”
Cyrus laughed softly. “Detective, my lawyers will be happy to cooperate with any lawful request.”
There it was.
The polished wall.
The money wall.
The same wall that had protected him all his life.
But Bennett did not blink. “Good. We like lawful cooperation.”
Cyrus turned back to me. “Marcus, may I speak to you privately?”
“No.”
His expression hardened for the first time.
“This is family.”
“My family is in that crib.”
A flash of something ugly crossed his face.
Then he smiled again.
“Grief has made you paranoid.”
“No,” I said. “Grief made me blind. That ended last night.”
Cyrus leaned closer, voice low enough that only I could hear.
“Be careful. You are emotional. Emotional men make expensive mistakes.”
I looked him in the eye.
“The most expensive mistake I ever made was trusting you.”
Before he could respond, Zion cried softly.
Emily moved instinctively toward the crib, then stopped, waiting.
I nodded.
She entered the room.
Cyrus watched her with a calm hatred that confirmed every suspicion I had.
Later, after he left, Detective Bennett said what none of us wanted to hear.
“He’s not afraid.”
“Why would he be?” I asked.
“Because either he didn’t do it…”
She looked toward the exit Cyrus had taken.
“Or because he has Margaret somewhere we can’t reach.”
That evening, Daniel found the first clue.
Margaret’s second phone had connected once after she fled.
Not to Cyrus.
To a private clinic outside the city.
A clinic owned by a shell company.
A shell company tied to the Whitaker Family Foundation.
May you like
Cyrus’s foundation.
And three hours later, the clinic burned.
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