Chapter 12

 

Shortly after her conversation with Owen and her acceptance of his proposal, Lena drifted once again into unconsciousness. Dr. Thompson assured Owen it was merely a deep sleep and that there was no cause for concern. Lena had experienced a minor surge of adrenaline the previous day due to high stress levels and the medications they’d used to wake her from the coma, granting her an extended period of alertness that had allowed her to begin to process everything. Now that it had worn off, her body’s natural instincts were reasserting themselves. Healing was hard work, and rest was the best way to accomplish it.

A few hours later, Owen found himself relaying that information to Dr. Maitland when the therapist showed up to check on Lena. He nodded sagely at the news but gazed back at Owen with empathetic eyes.

“So, you think she hasn’t yet confronted her grief and the reality of her father’s death?”

“No… I think she’s well aware of the reality of the situation, but the grief part hasn’t really hit her yet. I’m not sure how best to help her when it does,” Owen admitted.

“Well… Not knowing her or anything of her history, all I can give you is general advice at this point.” When Owen nodded for him to continue, Maitland went on. “The grief will catch up with her. It will most likely hit her all at once, and it’s hard to say what her reaction might be. She might become belligerent and angry, she might be in denial, she might sink into depression, she might withdraw into a catatonic state… She might do some version of all of those things. There’s really no way to predict it at this point other than to draw on what you already know about her.”

Owen frowned in concern, reminded of the silent little girl he’d met fifteen years ago. Would she revert to that? No… I know her better than any living person, he thought. Lena might have hidden herself in silence within her own mind after Celia’s death, but this was a different situation. She was an adult now, and she was not alone.

“I really think if she were going to react that badly, she would’ve done so when we first told her about Nate.”

“From what little I’ve observed so far, I’m inclined to agree with that assessment,” Maitland nodded. “It is encouraging that instead of withdrawing, Ms. Gardner took the proverbial bull by the horns and did what she needed to do in order to preserve her father’s legacy. That bodes well for her. It shows the beginnings of acceptance. But as I said, her grief will catch up. If she’s willing, I’d like to have a session with her as soon as she’s awake, even if that means I need to come in on a Sunday.”

Owen was shaking his head even before the older man had stopped speaking.

“I’ll do everything I can to be here for her, and of course, I’ll encourage her to talk to you or to a therapist of her choosing in the near future. I know that’s important… But no one can force it on her. If Lena feels like she doesn’t have a choice about therapy, she will withdraw. You have to let her come to you when she’s ready.”

“Of course. And in any case, she’s an adult of sound mind. The decision of whether or not to engage a therapist is completely up to her. As I said, I don’t know enough about Ms. Gardner to make any specific recommendations beyond standard grief counseling.”

“I don’t know anything about helping someone through the loss of a parent… But I do know Lena. And I know that if she’s not in the right frame of mind or not ready to do the work it will take to heal, then therapy will just be a waste of time.”

“Spoken like someone who has experience,” Maitland observed shrewdly.

“You could say that.” Owen shrugged, glancing back at Lena.

“Then hopefully you know that you’re perfectly within reason to ask for help as well, should you need it. The role of a caretaker is a difficult one, and Ms. Gardner has a long road ahead of her in more ways than one. Do you have a support system? Other family and friends who can help you?”

“I’m not the issue, Doc. I’ll be fine. It’s her I’m worried about.”

Maitland recognized Owen’s easy dismissal for what it was and opted to let it go.

“Alright. But I do feel I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that the decision to get married is a big one… Probably not the kind of decision anyone should be making while their mind and body are under so much stress.” He’d seen the ring on Lena’s finger that had not been there the previous day. Owen shook his head again.

“I can appreciate the logic of that perspective, Dr. Maitland, but if I’d had any doubts as to what Lena’s answer would be, I’d never have bought a ring in the first place. I knew what her answer would be then, just as I knew it this morning when I proposed. We were always meant to be together, and nothing is going to change either of our minds about that.”

Owen appreciated that the therapist’s heart was in the right place, but he wasn’t about to let anyone make assumptions about his relationship with Lena. He held Maitland’s gaze with cool determination, as though daring the man to challenge him. Maitland was the first to look away. He nodded again in acceptance of Owen’s words and took his leave a few moments later, offering a respectful handshake in parting.

Maitland wasn’t the only person to express concern over Lena’s mental capacity when it came to making big decisions. Sean showed up at the hospital that afternoon with a hesitant expression and yet another file of paperwork in his hands. His concerns, at least, were related more to the legality of the situation than to Lena’s mental health.

“I don’t doubt your honesty, Owen,” Sean assured him. “It’s just that we have to make sure we’re covering every possible angle. Phelps could argue in court that Lena wasn’t lucid enough to make decisions and that she was susceptible to outside influences.”

Sean had brought a junior associate from his firm to bear witness to the conversation and to the signing of the contracts. Lena roused herself for long enough to speak to him clearly and concisely about what she wanted done and sign the necessary documents, and Sean looked significantly more confident when he left the room. Owen expelled a worried sigh when her eyes closed again not five minutes after Sean’s departure, brushing the limp hair away from her face before pressing his lips to her temple.

The silence of the room was broken only by the gentle electronic whirring of the medical equipment and by the evenly paced rhythm of Lena’s breaths. Owen held the copies of the contracts Sean had left for him, and the words blurred on the page as he stared at them blindly. It had always been his dream to be at the helm of a great company, but he’d never once imagined it happening like this. He’d wanted to start a business from the ground up, to mold it and shape it into a company people would be proud to work for and do business with. He’d wanted to prove himself worthy of the honor of leadership, even if it took years to do so.

Owen had planned carefully for his future, but none of his plans had prepared him for this. He was, for all intents and purposes, the CEO of a fifty billion-dollar corporation. At nineteen years old, he marveled, shaking his head at the sheaf of papers before glancing back at Lena’s sleeping face. In a million years, he’d never have anticipated this turn of events, but he knew that he was in no position to turn it down. Lena trusted him. Needed him. Denying her was simply not an option.

Lena slept soundly for the rest of Saturday evening, completely missing visits from Logan and yet another person who had been called upon to help her. Owen had a long discussion with Declan, explaining their needs in painstaking detail. As he’d predicted months ago, Declan was intrigued and excited by the job, both for its challenges as well as the impressive paycheck he’d be receiving. Owen no longer had any reservations about involving his friend now that he would not be asking him to take legal risks. Lena had given her approval and had empowered Owen to see it through.

“I’ll get on it right away,” Declan promised. “From your description of the issue, it shouldn’t be too difficult to access the files in question once I’m in the system, unless the guy’s got a serious hacker helping him cover his tracks.”

“And Phelps won’t know you’ve done it? If he suspects the jig is up, even for a second, there’s a good chance he’ll disappear. We want him to pay for what he’s done. Everything he’s done.”

“He won’t know. I’ll put a worm of my own design into the system, and it will relay all of Phelps’ activities to a secure backup server. Every keystroke will be tracked and logged, and the files he’s got hidden will be copied over as well. I’ll bring a secure laptop by tomorrow so you and Lena can access the information, but make sure you don’t use the hospital’s Wi-Fi. It’s not secure enough. I’ll bring a portable Wi-Fi device instead. I also think it would be a good idea to bug the guy’s phone, if I can manage it. The recorded calls and texts can be sent to the secure server too.”

“How are you going to bug his phone?” Owen asked dubiously.

“Let me worry about that. The less you know about it, the better. Obviously, I can’t promise anything will come of it. Depending on whether or not he’s using a company phone for everything, certain things may not be admissible in court, but being fully informed will still help you.”

“I trust you. The feds have been having some trouble hacking into the system undetected, so I want you to keep them in the loop. I’ll text you the contact information for the agent in charge. His name is Ramsey. I think they’re more concerned with the homicide than the embezzlement, but if they can nail him on either one, it’ll give them time to build a case for the other.”

“Which means you’ve got to pursue both at the same time,” Declan nodded astutely. “I get it.”

Declan left a short while later, keen to get started on his assignment, and Owen settled in for another night of restless sleep next to Lena’s bed. After having trained his brain to wake every so often to check on her in her comatose state, he was having difficulty breaking the habit. The fact that she’d slept through dinner once again made him anxious, but the nurses had promised that Lena would be allowed to eat as soon as she woke up, regardless of what time of day or night that might occur. He stifled the urge to wake her and tried to ignore the slightly increased definition in her cheekbones that had not been there a week ago. Even Mary had assured him that a little weight loss was to be expected in Lena’s condition, but it went against his instincts not to feed her.

That instinct, Owen recalled, had always been in place where Lena was concerned. From the very beginning, he had been focused on her eating habits, whether it was gummy fruit snacks he’d absconded from the pantry of their foster home or French fries he’d bought in the student union. He didn’t imagine that habit would be changing any time soon.

As he reached over to hold her hand briefly in the relative darkness, Owen felt the unmistakable presence of the engagement ring on her finger, and he smiled in spite of his worries, content in the certainty that Lena would be his for the rest of their lives.

 

 

Sunday

 

Lena found it slightly easier to stay awake the following day, thanks in part to an impromptu visit from Mary and Eric that afternoon. They succeeded in lifting her spirits a little, despite the invisible weight of grief she could feel pressing down upon her, and her improved mood made the conversation with her next visitor a little easier. When Cook arrived to relieve Wyatt, he hovered in the doorway nervously, but Lena beckoned him inside, raising her brows slightly at the ugly bruise that dominated the left side of his face. Wyatt remained firmly in place in the hallway.

“Ms. Gardner, I…” Cook flexed his shoulders uncomfortably. “I wanted to apologize to you directly, ma’am, if you’re inclined to speak to me.”

Lena glanced warily at Owen, who was glowering at him. Logan had told her about the near-altercation that had taken place shortly before she’d woken from her coma, and she would’ve preferred to avoid giving her fiancé something else to stress over. In truth, she was no less angry than Owen, but Lena was also fully aware that Cook might well be the key to the evidence they needed against Phelps. Her voice was cool and even when she answered him.

“Say what you need to say, Cook.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m not sure how much you were told, but I’d like the opportunity to explain my actions. Not to make excuses, of course, but…”

“Phelps threatened your family?” Lena prompted knowingly.

“Not at first. In the beginning, he merely offered a great deal of money, and I’m ashamed to admit that I was swayed by it. My daughter is four and has cystic fibrosis. There are treatments that will prolong her life, but… We can’t afford them. My ex-wife struggles regardless of the child support I pay and whatever else I can contribute. I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t want to report back to Mr. Phelps, but it felt like the only way to help my daughter.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your daughter’s condition. Is she alright?”

“She, my son, and my ex-wife are now in protective custody,” Cook nodded. “Mr. Phelps implied that something might happen to them if I failed to get him clearance into your room while you were still unconscious. He showed me a picture of a man with a gun watching my children at the playground near their house. Until that moment, I didn’t realize how dangerous he was.”

“Which is when you came clean about everything,” Lena said gently, breathing as deeply as her fractured ribs would allow in an effort to clear her mind before she continued. “As much as I want to be furious with you… I can’t say I might not have done the same had I been in your position. You didn’t understand the full implications of what you were doing.”

The tension in the room seemed to dissipate in correlation to the slackening of Cook’s muscular frame.

“I truly meant no harm, ma’am. And I didn’t tell him anything of real consequence. I never heard any of you discussing him amongst yourselves.”

“Alright.” She was silent for a moment, considering the situation. She had every reason not to trust him, but she hadn’t been merely placating him when she’d empathized with his situation. A loving parent would do just about anything for their child. “You can keep your job, at least for now, but I want full disclosure from now on.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Cook nodded emphatically, acute relief etched in every feature. He noticed that she hadn’t corrected his use of the formality, but he hoped it had more to do with her new position as his employer rather than any grudge she might be holding in connection to her father’s death.

“Good. Now, when you spoke to the FBI on Friday, how did it go?”

“It went well, I think. They recorded a call between Mr. Phelps and myself that evening when I informed him that you were awake.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He hung up without another word, unfortunately,” he winced apologetically.

“Figures,” Owen muttered. “Would’ve been nice to get him on the record saying something incriminating.”

“They’re listening to all of my calls now in case he slips up. He doesn’t usually say anything like that so directly over the phone, but we could get lucky.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lena nodded, her expression still depicting more serenity than she was actually feeling. “We need you. As I said before, you can keep your job… I can forgive you for what you did because I understand why you did it. But you’ll have to earn back my trust, and it won’t be easy. If it turns out my father was killed with the aid of information that you provided…”

She didn’t finish her statement, but she didn’t need to. Cook swallowed thickly.

“I understand, ma’am. And again… I’m very sorry. If I’d known…” He shook his head sorrowfully and lowered his eyes to the floor.

Lena dismissed him with a grim nod, and Cook left to take his post outside her door. Wyatt still didn’t budge, glaring at Cook with an expression of intense distrust. Owen watched them for a moment before approaching.

“You can go home, Wyatt. Go get some sleep.”

“Sir, I don’t mind staying if you’d like,” Wyatt replied solemnly.

“I appreciate it, but we’ll be alright,” Owen assured him, hoping to diffuse the palpable tension. Wyatt nodded reluctantly but threw one last disapproving scowl in Cook’s direction before he left. Owen closed the door and returned to Lena’s bedside, looking just as conflicted as Wyatt.

“I don’t know that I would’ve been able to let Cook keep his job,” he admitted as he took her hand in his.

“Firing him would only alert Phelps to the fact that we’re onto him. Have to maintain the status quo, right?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right. I’m just… still pissed.”

“Your knuckles aren’t bruised, so I’m guessing it wasn’t you who gave him that shiner?” she smirked.

“Nope. That was Wyatt,” Owen replied, wishing he could’ve gotten a punch in as well. Lena nodded in satisfaction.

“I’m surprised you and Logan didn’t join in.”

“We were occupied with something much more important,” he smiled, bringing his free hand up to caress her cheek.

They gazed at each other for a long time, communicating more in their silence than they could articulate in that moment. Pain, anger, grief, fear, relief, resolve… Every emotion Lena was feeling was reflected back at her in his eyes, and it reassured her more than anything else could have.

It told her incontrovertibly that, although she had lost her father, she was not alone.

 

 

To Owen’s relief, Lena was permitted a more palatable meal for dinner that evening than what her doctors had approved up to that point. Unfortunately, however, the arrival of yet another visitor completely robbed her of her appetite.

“I’m so relieved to see you awake, Lena! I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been,” Phelps gushed with false affection.

He didn’t wait for an invitation to sit before parking himself in the chair Owen had vacated in order to set up her dinner on the rolling tray table. Lena stared at Phelps blankly for a moment, wishing she’d had more time to prepare her poker face. Once he’d settled himself and returned his gaze to hers, she forced the vacant expression from her features and gave him a sad smile she hoped would befit an injured, grieving woman. She glanced quickly at Owen, who seemed to be having difficulty concealing his emotions as well.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, my dear. I considered Nate to be one of my closest colleagues and a very dear friend. There’s nothing I can say that will bring him back, but… You have my deepest sympathies.”

Remarkable, Lena thought in disgust. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he actually meant it.

“Thank you,” she replied quietly. “It’s just hard to believe he’s really gone.”

“I know. I can’t believe it either. Everyone at GC extends their condolences as well, of course. I think you probably have quite a few flower arrangements on the way now that you’re out of the ICU.”

She fought back a shudder at his gracious smile. Stay calm, Lena.

“I’ll be sure to thank them when I see them again. At Dad’s funeral, I suppose.”

“Yes...” Phelps looked appropriately troubled for the next words she knew would be coming out of his mouth. “I’ve been trying to reason with the FBI about releasing your father’s remains so that I - uh, so that you can start making arrangements, but they’re refusing to cooperate.”

“Well, there’s no rush,” Lena shrugged. “It’s not like I’m physically able to attend a service right now anyway. And besides, I’d prefer they do a thorough investigation as opposed to rushing through it for the sake of formality. I’m sure they’ll release the remains as soon as they can.”

“Of course… I was merely concerned about the stability of the company, dear. Having some closure to the matter would reassure our clients and employees.”

“Have there been problems in that area?”

“Nothing I haven’t been able to manage,” he assured her, once again wearing his benign smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she nodded, taking a quick breath before adding, “In any case, you won’t be managing it alone as of tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Phelps’ expression fell slightly, and his eyes surveyed her body in a manner that was far from discreet. Behind him, Owen shifted in agitation. “I’m aware that you’ve acknowledged your ownership of GC, but I can’t imagine you’ll be up to working any time soon.”

“You’re correct. However, I could hardly leave my father’s company in a lurch, so to speak. As such, I’ve named an acting CEO to preside in my stead until I’m recovered.”

Phelps paled considerably, and Lena found it difficult to keep the victorious smirk off her face.

“Acting CEO?”

“Yes. I trust Owen more than anyone else in the world, and he’s graciously agreed to help.”

Phelps spun in his chair to look at Owen, who managed to erase his smug expression just in time. Phelps sputtered for a moment, stunned but doing his best to hide his fury at this turn of events. He seemed to pull himself together quickly, however, and turned back to her with the look of someone preparing to impart a life lesson to an ignorant child.

“Lena, honey… I can understand that Owen has your trust, of course. I was happy to hear news of your recent engagement. My belated congratulations…” His eyes flickered downward to her left hand. “I’m glad you have his support during such a difficult time. But you can’t honestly believe he’s qualified to be a CEO at this point in his life. He hasn’t even graduated college yet.”

“First of all, I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t discuss my fiancé as though he’s not standing in the room with us.” Lena paused to motion Owen toward her, and he moved to the opposite side of her bed, gazing neutrally at Phelps as he stood protectively over her. “I’m sure you’re well aware that I haven’t graduated either, but that didn’t stop my father from naming me as his successor.”

“That doesn’t mean either of you are experienced enough to handle so much responsibility.” Phelps’ irritation was beginning to seep into his polite expression.

“Dad thought Owen was capable, and so do I. You know full well that he was grooming him… Grooming both of us. If you don’t trust my judgment, then you should at least trust my father’s. He was your best friend, after all.” Lena spoke the last statement with more venom than she’d intended, and Phelps seemed momentarily taken aback.

“It’s true that Nate did have high hopes for Owen,” Phelps admitted, bestowing what he apparently believed to be an amiable smile upon Owen. “And for you as well, of course, Lena. But I’m sure Nate would never have expected either of you to assume leadership of his company before you’re even old enough to drink.”

“He didn’t expect to die either. Plans change,” Lena retorted, her eyes glacial. “I’m now the legal owner of Gardner Components, and I need someone I can trust to act in my stead until I’m recovered enough to take over the duties myself.”

Her tone rang with finality, and Phelps didn’t bother to ask for further clarification. The implication was obvious; she didn’t trust him to do the job. Despite the fact that anyone else would’ve believed him to be the obvious choice for an interim CEO position, Lena was making it clear that she would continue to stand in the way of his goals. A shadow of sorts fell over his features as he attempted to swallow his self-righteous anger.

Lena maintained eye contact for a little too long, struggling to regain control of her tumultuous emotions. As much as she hated the feeling of backing down first, she was afraid of what he might see in her eyes. She knew she needed to backpedal and to put him at ease as much as possible, and her next words burned in her throat as she spoke them.

“I apologize for my shortness… I’m still in shock,” she explained in a low, agonized tone. “One minute, Dad was right there, and the next…”

Her words were lost in the sob that broke free from her chest, and the tears that followed were not solely for Phelps’ benefit. Aside from the grief that had washed over her when Owen had explained what had happened, Lena hadn’t yet allowed herself to cry for her father. She was wise enough to know she would need to release that energy sooner rather than later, but she’d been trying to hold herself together at least until the biggest issues had been dealt with. She would see her father’s murderer in handcuffs. Then, she’d let herself grieve properly.

“I understand,” Phelps nodded, a watered-down version of his genial smile slipping back into place as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be on my way. I’m sure you need your rest. We can discuss this another time. And again… I’m very sorry for your loss, my dear.”

Lena wanted to tell him there was nothing more to discuss, but she kept her mouth shut and merely nodded in acknowledgment. She wanted him gone.

Owen waited until the door had closed behind Phelps before he moved back to his usual seat and took Lena’s hand. He’d held his tongue while Lena had spoken to Phelps, utilizing the opportunity to study the traitor at close quarters. In the week of chaos and stress that had followed the explosion, Owen had temporarily forgotten the conclusion he’d drawn during their dinner at Phelps’ home. It was one of several things Lena needed to know about her father, and he hoped she was ready to hear what he had to say. At least in death, there would be no more secrets between Nate Gardner and his daughter.

“There’s something I need to tell you…”

 

 

Phelps glared at Cook as he closed the door of Lena’s hospital room behind him.

“We need to talk. Now.”