After My Murder I Returned

The Gala Ghost

Chapter 6: The Gala Ghost

Day 37 started with Sophia.

Nathan. Reed Foundation Gala – Committee Meeting. 2 PM. You’re coming.

It wasn’t a question. It was a, uh, it was a mom-issued court order.

Nathan stared at the text. In the other life, he skipped every committee meeting. Said “philanthropy is for people with guilty consciences” and then spent the gala budget on Melanie’s “art.”

He typed back: I’ll be there.

Sophia Reed: Good. Wear a tie. Not one of your, mmm, “creative” ones.

He smiled. Actually smiled. Yes ma’am.

---

The Hay-Adams. Again. Committee room smelled like coffee and old ladies with strong opinions about centerpieces.

Sophia was at the head of the table. Damien wasn’t there — “board call,” she said, but Nathan saw the way her mouth tightened.

He sat. Tried to look, like, engaged.

“Item three,” said Mrs. Whitmore, seventy, pearls, botox. “The Rivers donation.”

Nathan’s pen snapped.

“Sorry,” he said. “Uh... what donation?”

“Douglas Rivers,” Whitmore said. “He’s, um, he’s offered to underwrite the silent auction. Very generous. Fifty thousand.”

Nathan’s jaw locked. “We don’t need it.”

Everyone looked at him.

“Nathan,” Sophia said, quiet warning. “We don’t turn down donations.”

“We do when they’re, like, when they’re from him.” Nathan stood up. “Douglas Rivers is, um... he’s not a philanthropist. He’s a—”

“A respected member of this community,” Whitmore cut in. “And his stepdaughter is lovely. She’s been volunteering with—”

“Melanie,” Nathan said. Flat.

“...Yes. You know her?”

Sophia was staring at him now. Really staring.

“No,” Nathan said. “I don’t. But I, uh, I know his type. And we don’t need his money. Reed Capital will match it. Double it. Just... not him.”

The room went dead silent.

Sophia stood. “Meeting adjourned. Ten minutes. Everyone out.”

They filed out. Whispering.

When the door closed, Sophia turned. “Explain. Now.”

Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “Mom, I—”

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. You just, um, you just torpedoed a fifty-thousand-dollar donation because of a man you claim not to know. So either you’re lying, or you’re having a, mmm, a breakdown. Which is it?”

“I’m not lying.” Nathan sat back down. Hard. “I can’t explain it. Not yet. But Douglas Rivers is dangerous. And if he’s writing checks, it’s because he wants something. And I’m not, like, I’m not letting him near this foundation. Near you.”

Sophia was quiet for a long time. Then she sat across from him.

“You’ve been different,” she said. “Since October. Since... since that call with your father.”

“Yeah.”

“Did something happen, Nathan? Something you’re not, um, something you’re not telling us?”

Yes. I died. You buried me. And he helped.

“Yeah,” Nathan said. “But I can’t... I can’t talk about it yet. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you, like, can you trust me?”

Sophia reached across the table. Took his hand. The one with the bandage.

“I trust you,” she said. “But you’re scaring me, sweetheart. You’re, um, you’re acting like you’re at war.”

I am.

“I know,” Nathan said. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezed his hand. “Double the donation, then. But you’re, mmm, you’re explaining this to your father. Tonight.”

Nathan nodded. “Okay. Tonight.”

---

He didn’t get the chance.

5:47 PM. His phone rang. Unknown number. Bethesda area code.

“Hello?”

“Uh, is this Nathan Reed?” A woman. Nurse voice. Clipped. “I’m calling from George Washington Hospital. Your father’s here. He, um, he collapsed at the office. You’re listed as emergency contact.”

The floor dropped out.

“What? Is he—”

“He’s stable. But you need to come now.”

Nathan was already moving. “I’m on my way.”

He drove like an idiot. Ran two reds. Parked in a tow zone. Didn’t care.

ER. Front desk. “Damien Reed. Where is he?”

“Room seven. Family only.”

Room seven.

Damien was there. Oxygen. IV. Eyes closed. He looked... small. Old. Nothing like the man who told Nathan to “bleed for it” two days ago.

And next to the bed, chart in hand, was Amber Evans.

She looked up. Saw him. Her face did something complicated.

“Nathan,” she said.

“Uh, what happened? Is he—”

“He’s stable,” she said, same as the nurse. Professional. Cold. “Syncope. Fainting. Low blood pressure. We’re running tests.”

Nathan moved to the bed. “Dad? Dad, hey. It’s me. I’m, um... I’m here.”

Damien’s eyes fluttered. “Nathan?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. You, uh... you scared the hell out of me.”

Damien huffed. Barely a sound. “‘M fine. Jus’... tired.”

“Like hell you are,” Amber said. Not to Nathan. To Damien. “You’re dehydrated, your potassium’s low, and your EKG is, um, it’s not great. When’s the last time you saw a doctor, Mr. Reed?”

Damien didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought.” Amber looked at Nathan. “He needs a cardiologist. And he needs to, like, actually listen to one. Or next time, it won’t be syncope.”

Nathan’s throat closed. Cancer. In the other life it was cancer. Now it’s his heart.

“Okay,” Nathan said. “Okay, uh... whatever he needs. Whatever it costs.”

Amber nodded. “I’ll put the orders in. You can stay. But if he, um, if he tries to leave AMA, I’m calling security.”

She left.

Nathan sat. Took Damien’s hand. The one without the IV.

“Hey,” he said. Rough. “You, uh... you don’t get to do this. Not yet. You hear me?”

Damien squeezed his hand. Weak. “Bossy. Jus’ like your mother.”

“Yeah. I get it from you.”

They sat like that for an hour. Sophia showed up at 7:30, face white. She didn’t cry. She just sat on Damien’s other side and held his hand and glared at the monitors like she could bully them into being normal.

At 9 PM, Amber came back.

“He’s admitting him,” she said. “Overnight observation. At least.”

“Okay,” Nathan said. “Okay, uh... thank you. For, like... for catching it.”

Amber looked at him. Then at Damien. Then at Sophia.

“Keep him hydrated,” she said. “And, um... make him see a cardiologist. A real one. Not his golf buddy.”

She left.

Sophia looked at Nathan. “You know her?”

“Uh... sort of. She, um... she stitched my hand. When I was an idiot.”

“Ah.” Sophia’s mouth quirked. “She’s, mmm, she’s thorough.”

“She’s good,” Nathan said. “She’s... she’s really good.”

Damien was asleep.

---

Day 39 was the loan.

Nathan was at Reed Capital, main floor, when his analyst dropped a file on his desk.

REED CAPITAL GROUP – SPECIAL SITUATIONS

APPLICANT: DANIELS, ADONIS

LOAN: $250,000 – PERSONAL – GYM EXPANSION

STATUS: APPROVED – PENDING FUNDING

Nathan went still.

“Uh, who approved this?”

“Collateral desk,” the analyst said. “It’s, like, clean. He’s got assets. Cars. The gym. Hargrove signed off.”

Hargrove. Of course.

“Pull it,” Nathan said.

“What?”

“Pull it. Freeze it. I want, um, I want a full audit on the collateral. Now.”

The analyst blinked. “Nathan, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” Nathan stood. “Because I’m, like, I’m the one who signs your checks. And I’m telling you, that money doesn’t move. Not one dollar. Got it?”

“...Got it.”

The analyst left. Fast.

Nathan sat back down. Hands shaking.

Adonis. $250K. From his company.

He opened his phone. Typed a text.

Nathan: Hargrove. My office. Now.

Then he opened another tab.

PROJECT HALO – SUBFOLDER: DANIELS, A.

He typed one line:

No more loans. Ever.

---

Day 40 ended with another text.

Unknown Number: Heard your dad’s in the hospital. Hope he’s okay.

Unknown Number: Dinner? You can tell me all about it. -D

Douglas.

Nathan didn’t delete it.

He took a screenshot. Sent it to Jonah.

Nathan: He’s playing games.

Jonah: who

Nathan: Douglas Rivers.

Jonah: ...the guy whose debt ur buying?

Nathan: Yeah.

Jonah: nate. what are u doing

Nathan: Winning.

He put the phone down.

Looked at the DC skyline.

Damien was upstairs. In a hospital bed. Because Nathan wasn’t fast enough last time.

Melanie was out there. Plotting.

Douglas was out there. Smiling.

Adonis was out there. Asking for money.

And Amber Evans was out there, telling idiots not to punch walls.

Nathan wasn’t an idiot anymore.

But he was at war.

And wars, like, wars need casualties.

He just had to make sure they weren’t his.

Not this time.

---