My head is fogged and tired when I get back to the penthouse. The visit with my mother was harrowing.

The staff is doing everything they can to keep her comfortable, keep her from harming anyone or herself, but her agitation turns so quickly to rage.

She’s slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All the money in the world can’t buy her mind back, and believe me—I’ve poured as much of my capital into it as I can. Donations to research labs, founding my own research labs, fundraising organizations…I’ve tried all of it, short of becoming a researcher myself, and it’s come to nothing.

When I get to her room, she doesn’t know who I am.

It takes half an hour for the staff to convince her that I’m not an intruder, and I spend several hours after that meeting with her nurses and doctors, every caretaker available, to come up with a solution.

The doctor is a nice guy in his early forties.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter,” he says, my mother’s file spread out in front of him on the meeting table. He’s being way nicer than he needs to be, considering I came in here like a blustering asshole and demanded that everyone meet with me well past business hours. “There’s been too much brain deterioration. Even with recent clinical trials…” He shakes his head, his disappointment seeming genuine enough. “We can’t reverse the damage. All we can do is make her more comfortable.”

I slam my fist down on the table, then cover my face with my hands. “She’s out of control,” I say through gritted teeth. “She doesn’t know who I am. Why isn’t more being done to calm her?”

“We’re doing everything we can.” This is a man who doesn’t flinch at the first sign of an outburst. “We’re giving her every relaxation service we offer, but as you saw tonight, sometimes there’s nothing we can do outside of sedatives.”

“I don’t want her sedated.”

“Mr. Hunter, you have been very clear about that from day one, and I’ve made a careful note of each of your requests. But your mother is past the point where we can keep the possibility of sedatives off the table if she’s going to remain here. She’s becoming a danger to our staff members, and more pressing, she’s becoming a danger to herself.”

I hang my head, giving myself one long breath to feel sorry for myself. That’s it.

“I want this carefully monitored,” I say, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. “She’s not going to become one of the living dead, drugged out of her mind until she’s barely living.”

He nods, acting like my opinion means something in the face of his medical experience. “You have my word, Mr. Hunter. We will only do what’s absolutely necessary, and no more.” He glances through the files in front of him again. “You should also know that although episodes like this are becoming more common, she’s still having many pleasant moments throughout the day. She always responds very well to our daily painting class. Most days, when she paints, she becomes lucid enough to share stories about her favorite topic.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

My heart tears in two inside my chest.

* * *

It’s still torn when the elevator lets me out into my penthouse. I don’t want Cate to see me like this, so shaken up, so weak, but she’s the only one I can even begin to speak to about this.

The moment I see her, I know that’s going to be off the table.

She stands in the middle of the living room, shoulders tight and tense, arms crossed in front of her body, feet planted. Her face is white with rage.

“Cate.”

She lets the silence hang between us for far longer than she needs to before she speaks.

“What the fuck, Jax?”

I run a hand through my hair, over my aching head. “Tell me what you’re talking about, Cate.”

A sharp burst of incredulous laughter escapes her lips. “Are you serious?”

My chest still aches with the state I had to leave my mother in. I can’t even engage with her on this level. For the moment, at least, the fight has gone out of me. “I’m serious.”

“You got me fired from my job, you controlling bastard.”

It dawns on me all at once.

The nightmare with my mother kept me away from Cate all last evening, and this morning…and now I see what that bitch Sarzó has done.

“Cate, that’s not what I intended to have happen. What I meant was—”

“What gives you the right?” It would be better if she screamed at me, but her voice is deadly soft.

“I didn’t get you fired. You have to know that.”

“I went in this morning and they already had a replacement at my desk. You did this yesterday. Yesterday I had a job, and today I don’t. And it’s all because of you.” Her face is twisted from the betrayal.

I hold both of my hands up. “Believe me, Cate. I never intended for you to be replaced overnight.”

“This wasn’t your business,” she spits at me. “Do you honestly think that you can screw around with people’s lives because you have a lot of money?”

It cuts me, because for a long time I’ve been living that way. But when I called Sarzó and told her to prepare for Catherine to transition out of the office, I was explicit: I told her that she would have two months to find a suitable replacement. Plenty of time for Cate to warm up to the idea, and for me to show her what I have in mind. It stings that she thinks I’ve done this with no consideration for what she wants out of life.

“Please, Cate, give me a minute to explain.”

“I don’t want to hear your explanation. I don’t want to hear any of it.” Her cheeks go pink. “I’m mortified that I got involved with you at all. I should have known—I was warned that you were selfish and arrogant and I didn’t listen. Now I’ve lost my job over it, and you have some trite explanation? Fuck you. Fuck you. We’re done, Jax. Done.”