The Maybach tore through the streets of Manhattan. Nathaniel's driver knew better than to ask questions. Nathaniel sat in the back, checking the GPS tracker on Colin's phone. They were converging on the hospital.
When Nathaniel arrived at the Mount Sinai VIP entrance, Colin was just helping Victoria out of a town car. She was surrounded by shopping bags, looking pristine and confused.
Nathaniel didn't wait. He stormed over and grabbed her arm.
"You have some nerve," he hissed.
Victoria looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent behind the sunglasses. "Nathaniel? What are we doing here? I thought you were in a meeting."
"Don't play dumb," Nathaniel snarled. "Money buys distance, doesn't it? You thought you could pay someone off and then go shopping for handbags?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Victoria said, planting her feet as he tried to pull her toward the doors.
"Julia was in a car accident," Nathaniel said, his voice shaking with rage. "A truck ran her off the road."
Victoria frowned. "Is she hurt?"
"Don't pretend you care!" Nathaniel spat. "You did this. You're coming with me. You're going to look her in the eye."
He dragged her through the lobby. Victoria stumbled slightly in her heels, allowing him to pull her. She could have broken his wrist in three different ways, but she let him lead. There were cameras. There were witnesses. She had to play the victim.
They burst into Room 302.
Julia Evans was lying in the bed. Her head was wrapped in a dramatic amount of gauze. Her leg was elevated in a cast. She looked small, fragile, and incredibly pale.
When she saw Nathaniel, she let out a sob. "Nate..."
Nathaniel rushed to her side, releasing Victoria. He touched Julia's face gently. "I'm here. You're safe."
Then Julia saw Victoria standing in the doorway. She flinched, shrinking back against the pillows, her eyes widening in theatrical terror.
"Please," Julia whispered. "Don't let her hurt me again."
Nathaniel turned on his heel. He looked at Victoria with disgusted fury. "See? She's terrified of you."
Victoria leaned against the doorframe. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes weren't looking at Nathaniel; they were scanning Julia.
She looked at the bandages. The blood seepage was too bright, too uniform. Fresh blood oxidizes quickly; this looked like theatrical paint. She looked at the cast. It was real plaster, but the muscle tone in Julia's thigh was relaxed. If the leg were truly broken, the muscles would be tense with pain.
"She's acting, Nathaniel," Victoria said calmly.
"Get out!" Nathaniel shouted. "Have you no shame?"
"It was a truck," Julia wept. "A black truck. It just... it swerved right into me. I saw the driver. He was looking right at me."
"I'll find him," Nathaniel promised. "I'll kill him."
"If I wanted her dead," Victoria said, her voice cutting through the melodrama, "she wouldn't be talking. She wouldn't have a scratch on her. She would have simply ceased to exist."
The room went silent. Nathaniel stared at her, shocked by the cold brutality of the statement.
"You're threatening her?"
"I'm stating a fact," Victoria said. "Defamation is a tort in New York, Julia. Accusing me of attempted murder is a serious allegation."
"I didn't say it was you," Julia stammered, clutching Nathaniel's hand. "I just... I feel like someone hates me."
"I don't hate you," Victoria said. "I don't think about you at all."
She pulled out her phone. "I'm recording this. For my lawyers."
"Put that away," Nathaniel commanded. He stepped between them, acting the shield.
"No," Victoria said. "I want the police report. I want to know where this accident happened."
Nathaniel lunged for the phone. He was fast, fueled by adrenaline and rage. He swiped at her hand.
Victoria didn't execute a martial arts block. That would break cover. instead, she seemed to lose her balance on her high heel, stumbling backward just as he swiped.
Nathaniel's hand swiped through empty air where her phone had been a split second before. His momentum carried him forward, and he slammed his hand hard against the wall behind her.
Thud.
The sound was loud. Nathaniel gasped, clutching his bruised knuckles. He looked at Victoria, bewildered. It looked like a clumsy accident, yet she was perfectly unharmed.
Victoria stood up straight, adjusting her coat.
"Careful, Nathaniel," she said softly. "You're clumsy when you're angry."
Julia was staring at her too. For a brief moment, the fear in her eyes wasn't fake.
"Call the police," Victoria said. "I love the NYPD. Let's get them in here."
