After My Murder I Returned

The Heart Monitor

Chapter 7: The Heart Monitor

Day 42 started with beeping.

Not an alarm. Not urgent. Just the steady, awful, beep... beep... beep of a heart monitor in a private room at George Washington Hospital.

Damien Reed hated it.

“This is, mmm, this is ridiculous,” he said, voice rough from the oxygen. “I’m fine. I have a call at nine.”

“You had a call,” Sophia said. She hadn’t left his side in two days. Hadn’t slept. Hadn’t changed clothes. “You canceled it. Because you, um, because you almost died in your office, Damien.”

“I did not—”

“You did,” Nathan cut in. He was in the chair by the window. Hadn’t left either. “Amber said—”

“Dr. Evans,” Sophia corrected, automatic.

“Dr. Evans,” Nathan said, “said your EKG looked like, uh, like a ‘bad stock chart.’ Her words. Not mine.”

Damien huffed. “She’s got a mouth on her.”

“She’s got a point,” Sophia said. “And you’re listening to her. Both of you.”

The door opened.

Amber. Scrubs, hair up, tablet in hand, coffee that was probably 90% caffeine and regret.

“Good, you’re all awake,” she said. No good morning. No how are we feeling. Just facts. “Because, um, because we have results.”

The room went cold.

Nathan stood. “And?”

Amber looked at Damien, not him. “Your troponin levels are elevated. That means there was some damage. Minor, but it’s there. Your echo shows, like, left ventricular hypertrophy. Basically, your heart’s working too hard. Walls are thickening.”

“English,” Damien said.

“You’re, um, you’re headed for heart failure if you don’t change things.” Amber didn’t flinch. “Stress. Diet. No more 80-hour weeks. No more cigars. And you need a real cardiologist. Not your golf buddy who prescribes Lipitor and tells you to walk more.”

Sophia’s hand went to her mouth.

Damien was quiet. Then: “Prognosis?”

“With lifestyle changes? Medication? You can, like, you can live a long time. Decades. Without them?” She shrugged. “Months. Maybe a year.”

Months.

Nathan felt the word like a punch. In the other life, it was cancer. Six months. Chemo. Damien wasting away while Nathan was in Bali with Melanie.

Not this time.

“What do we do?” Nathan asked. Fast. “Whatever it is. Whatever he needs. You, um... you tell us.”

Amber looked at him. Really looked. “He needs to decide. Not you. Not your mom. Him.”

Damien was staring at the ceiling. Jaw tight. “I have a company.”

“You have a son,” Sophia said, sharp. “And a wife. And, um, and a board that can run itself for once.”

Damien closed his eyes. “...Fine. Fine. I’ll, mmm, I’ll see the specialist.”

“Good,” Amber said. She tapped her tablet. “I’m referring you to Dr. Chen at Johns Hopkins. She’s the best. And she, like, she doesn’t care how much money you have. She’ll yell at you.”

“Wonderful,” Damien muttered.

Amber turned to leave.

“Dr. Evans,” Nathan said.

She stopped. “Yeah?”

“Uh... thank you. For, like... for catching it. For not letting him walk out.”

She shrugged. “It’s my job. Don’t, um, don’t make me do it again.”

She left.

Sophia watched the door. Then looked at Nathan. “She’s good.”

“Yeah,” Nathan said. “She is.”

“Very... direct.”

“Yeah.”

Sophia smiled. Small. “You respect that.”

Nathan didn’t answer.

---

Day 44 was Hargrove.

Reed Capital. Damien’s office. Damien was home now — “house arrest,” he called it — so Nathan was using it.

Hargrove walked in like he owned the place. “You wanted to see me?”

“Sit,” Nathan said.

Hargrove didn’t. “I don’t report to you, kid.”

“You do now.” Nathan slid a folder across the desk. HARGROVE, R. – EXPENSE IRREGULARITIES. “You, um, you approved a 250K personal loan to Adonis Daniels. Against policy. No committee review. No risk assessment.”

Hargrove went pale. Then red. “That’s, like, that’s privileged—”

“That’s fraud,” Nathan said. Quiet. “And I’m, um, I’m really curious why the CFO of Reed Capital is funneling money to a personal trainer with three bankruptcies and a fake LLC.”

Hargrove’s mouth opened. Closed. “You don’t know what you’re—”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” Nathan stood. “You’re done here. Resign. Today. Or I go to the SEC. And to the Board. And to the, um, to the Post. Your choice.”

Hargrove stared at him. “You’re just like him.”

“Who?”

“Your father. Cold. Ruthless.”

“No,” Nathan said. “I’m worse. Because I’ve, like, I’ve seen what happens when you let guys like you stay.”

Hargrove left. Didn’t slam the door. Just... left.

Jonah texted five minutes later.

Jonah: u fire Hargrove?

Nathan: Yeah.

Jonah: holy shit

Jonah: damien know?

Nathan: He will. After.

Jonah: nate. u sure about this?

Nathan: No. But I’m, um, I’m doing it anyway.

---

Day 46 was dinner.

Not a date.

Nathan told himself that four times.

Amber agreed to meet him at Founding Farmers. Public. Neutral. “Because you, like, you look like you haven’t eaten a vegetable in a week,” she’d said when he called to thank her again.

She was already there. No scrubs. Jeans. Sweater. Hair down. She looked... human. Not ER-god. Just tired.

“Hey,” Nathan said. “Uh, thanks for... for coming.”

“You said it wasn’t a date,” she said, sitting. “So I’m, like, I’m only here for the free food and to make sure you’re not still punching walls.”

“I’m not.” He held up his hand. Bandage was gone. Scar was thin. “See? Healing. Like a, um, like a responsible adult.”

“Barely.” She ordered coffee. Black. “So. Damien Reed. Your dad, right?”

Nathan choked on water. “How did you—”

“Rich guy. Private room. Your last name. I’m, like, I’m a doctor, not blind.” She stirred her coffee. “He’s gonna be okay. If he listens. Which, um, which he won’t. Because men like him don’t listen until they’re dying.”

“He’ll listen,” Nathan said. “I’ll make him.”

“Yeah?” She looked at him. “And who’s gonna make you listen?”

Nathan blinked. “What?”

“You.” She pointed her spoon at him. “You walk around like you’re, like, like you’re carrying a coffin. You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. You show up at my ER twice for ‘anger issues.’ So. Who’s telling you to slow down?”

Nathan opened his mouth. Closed it.

“No one,” he said finally.

“Right.” Amber sipped her coffee. “Well. Consider this me telling you. Because if you, um, if you drop dead from stress, I’m gonna be really annoyed. I just got your dad stable.”

It wasn’t flirting. It wasn’t soft. It was Amber. Blunt. Real.

And Nathan, like an idiot, laughed. “Noted. Uh... thanks, Doc.”

“Amber.”

“Amber.”

They ate. Talked about nothing. Hospital food. Law school — she had a brother at Georgetown. Traffic.

It was normal.

Nathan didn’t know he’d missed normal until he had it.

When the check came, he reached for it.

“No,” she said. “We’re, um, we’re splitting it. This isn’t a date. Remember?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” She stood. “And Nathan?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t punch walls. And don’t, like, don’t come to my ER unless you’re actually dying. I have enough patients.”

Then she was gone.

Nathan sat there for a minute.

His phone buzzed.

Sophia: Damien’s asleep. Come home if you want.

Sophia: Also. The doctor. She’s, mmm, she’s interesting.

Nathan put his head in his hands. “Mom.”

---

Day 48 was flowers.

Nathan was at the hospital. Damien had a follow-up. Echo. More tests.

He was in the waiting room when he saw her.

Melanie Rivers.

White dress. Big sunglasses. Bouquet of lilies. The kind you bring to funerals.

She was at the front desk. “Hi, um, I’m here for Damien Reed? I’m a, like, a family friend?”

The nurse frowned. “Are you on the list?”

“List?” Melanie’s laugh was airy. Fake. “Oh, no, I just... I heard he was unwell. I wanted to, um, to drop these off. From the Foundation Gala committee?”

Nathan stood.

Melanie turned. Saw him.

Her face did the thing. Surprise. Then recovery. Then the smile.

“Nathan!” she said. Like they were old friends. “Oh my God, hi. I, um... I didn’t know you’d be here. Is your dad...?”

“Leave,” Nathan said.

The nurse looked between them.

Melanie’s smile faltered. “I just... I brought flowers. For Mr. Reed. It’s, like, the right thing to do.”

“No,” Nathan said. He stepped forward. “The right thing to do is, um, is to stay away from my family. So leave. Now. Before I call security.”

Melanie’s eyes flashed. Just for a second. Then she was sweet again. “Wow. Okay. I, um... I didn’t realize. I’ll go.”

She set the flowers on the counter. Walked out.

Didn’t look back.

The nurse exhaled. “Uh... ex-girlfriend?”

“Never,” Nathan said. “She’s, um... she’s no one.”

But his hands were shaking.

Because Douglas knew. Douglas was pushing.

And the war wasn’t slow anymore.

It was here.

-