“Mom, what did you do at that meeting?” Ron demanded.
“Exactly what I said I was going to do.” Nancy sounded completely unhinged. “I turned down their offer and insisted on going to trial.”
Felicia groaned. “Didn’t you hear a word we said?” she asked. “This witch hunt of yours is going to drag Dad’s name through the mud. The media will have a field day with what the hospital leaks. They’re going to go for the jugular, not just sit back and let you destroy Manhattan Memorial and its staff members. They’re going to come at you with all they’ve got.”
“Really?” Nancy gave a triumphant laugh. “Let them. They’re desperate. I already got them to offer to fire both Conrad and Madeline. Quite a coup, wouldn’t you say?”
“Are you kidding?” Ron sounded flabbergasted. “Isn’t that enough? What more do you want? Conrad and Madeline will be disgraced, jobless and punished for the crime you’re convinced they committed. Take the money and their offer to kick the Westfields out of Manhattan Memorial and walk away.”
“Never.”
“Mother.” Felicia was clearly about to go for her mother’s Achilles’ heel. “The hospital is going to uncover every sordid affair that Dad ever had. Every woman he ever slept with. Every employee he crossed the line with and then lied about. Every hospital employee he got fired to keep them from talking about their trysts. The media will gobble up every word—and magnify and sensationalize it. Dad’s reputation will be shattered. And our lives will be ruined.”
“Don’t ever speak of your father like that!” Nancy screamed. “He was a good man. An honorable man. He loved all of us. And he loved his job. There’s nothing they can say that will undermine that!”
“They’re not trying to undermine him,” Ron said. “They’re trying to destroy him. They want popular opinion to shift to the Westfields as victims in all this. You’ll be labeled jealous and crazy, and we’ll be penniless. If you accept the settlement, Dad’s good name will remain as such, and we’ll be as rich as kings. Isn’t that the ultimate revenge?”
“No. And I’m not discussing this anymore. You should both be ashamed of yourself, disrespecting your father like this. I’m disgusted by your lack of support. Now get out! I don’t want to look at either of you!”
After that, there was nothing more than the sound of a door slamming—Ryan would guess the door to Nancy’s bedroom—and the rustling of coats being donned.
“She’s lost it, Ron,” Felicia murmured. “We have to do something.”
“We will,” he replied.
* * *
Marc lay quietly, holding Madeline in his arms. The one pillow that was still left on the bed he’d propped under his head, and the one section of bedcovers that wasn’t crumpled on the floor he’d pulled over them when Maddy started shivering in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
Despite the crises that were going on around them, they were still reveling in the wonder of their reunion. Quite frankly, Marc couldn’t get enough of Maddy, nor she of him.
Now she shifted a little, draping one leg over Marc’s.
“I wish we could stay at your place,” she murmured. “I hate that I’m trapped inside these walls ninety percent of the time. And yet I’m scared to death about what Nancy Lexington has in store for me.”
Cradling her closer, Marc stared at the ceiling, his jaw hard. “I’m more worried about when and how the perp will strike next.”
Madeline tilted her head back and gazed up at Marc. “You’re still not convinced that Nancy is the one trying to kill Conrad and me.”
“Less and less so every day,” he replied. “She’s certainly not keeping a low profile with this lawsuit. Killers don’t usually wave red flags saying they’re crazed with rage and on the warpath. Plus, how does she think that winning her lawsuit will eliminate whatever incriminating evidence or knowledge you and/or Conrad must have? Sure, she’d discredit the two of you, maybe even destroy your careers, but you’d still be walking around. So how does that satisfy her needs? Why would she go backward in her attempts to wipe you both out as threats?”
Madeline considered that for a moment. “I can’t dispute any of what you said. But if you’re right, it scares me even more. My killer is still a nameless, faceless enemy at large. How can I combat that?”
“That’s FI’s job,” Marc responded. “We’ll keep you safe. And we’ll find the son of a bitch who’s going after you.”
Madeline shut her eyes, wishing she could shut out everything outside this bed with it. “I believe you. I just wish I could do something. Much as I love you, I’m not the type to sit around like a damsel in distress.”
Marc’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I know. You’re the type to spill coffee on an unarmed man.”
He was rewarded with a playful punch in the arm. “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“Nope.”
Madeline was silent for a moment, then said, “I have to talk to you about something.”
“Uh-oh. I know that tone. I’m not going to like what you’re about to say, am I?”
“Probably