Chapter 7:
Two days later, Elias Thorne stood in the pristine hallway of Queens General Hospital. He wasn’t the patient. Julian was in room 304, whining about his cast and the “tragedy” of not being able to play tennis for six weeks.
Elias had come to check on his nephew, but mostly, he was looking for a ghost.
The background check Graves had run came back with a file on “Aurora Vance.” Born: Bronx, NY. Education: GED. Employment: None. Marital Status: Divorced (Sterling Thorne).
The file made no sense. It described a nobody. A woman with no education, no skills, who had lucked into a marriage with a rich man and then been discarded.
It didn’t describe the woman who disarmed three thugs. It didn’t describe the woman who diagnosed a rare neurological condition by sight. It didn’t describe the woman who wrote a complex herbal formula in perfect Mandarin characters.
There was a disconnect. A lie.
Elias walked toward the waiting room to take a call.
As he passed the nurses’ station, he stopped.
She was there.
Aurora was sitting in a plastic chair in the crowded waiting room. She was wearing a simple white blouse and black slacks—clean, but the fabric was worn, clearly second-hand.
She was reading a book. It wasn’t a magazine. It was a thick, leather-bound volume that looked older than the hospital itself.
Elias watched. She turned a page with reverence.
He approached her.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said.
Aurora didn’t jump. She finished the paragraph, marked her page with a slip of paper, and looked up.
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“Mr. Thorne,” she said. “Are you stalking me?”
“I could ask you the same. You seem to be everywhere I am.”
“I’m here for a friend,” Aurora said, nodding toward the trauma ward. “My neighbor took a fall. I’m waiting for his discharge papers.”
“And I’m here for my nephew. The one you crippled.”
“The one who crippled himself due to poor form and excessive ego,” Aurora corrected.
Elias’s lip twitched. He almost smiled. “Touché.”
He sat in the chair next to her. The other people in the waiting room stared. A billionaire in an Italian suit sitting next to a woman in thrift store clothes.
“The tea,” Elias said. “It worked.”
Aurora nodded. “I know.”
“My doctors say it shouldn’t have. They say it’s placebo.”
“Your doctor is linear. The body is a network,” Aurora said. “Western medicine treats the symptom. That formula treats the flow.”
“Where did you learn it?”
Aurora looked at him. “Books. The library is free, Mr. Thorne.”
“You’re lying,” Elias said softly. “The files say you’re a high school dropout who married for money.”
Aurora’s eyes went cold. She closed the book with a snap.
“The files say what the world saw,” she said. “People see what they expect to see. Sterling saw a trophy. You see a mystery. Maybe I’m just a girl who reads a lot.”
“I don’t think so,” Elias said. He leaned in closer, keeping his distance but lowering his voice. “I think you’re the most dangerous person in this city.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“From me? Yes.”
A nurse called out. “Family of Joseph Miller?”
Aurora stood up immediately. “That’s me.”
She grabbed her bag.
“Wait,” Elias said. He stood up too. “I have a proposition.”
“I’m not interested in a job, Mr. Thorne.”
“Not a job. A partnership.”
Aurora paused. She looked at him, really looked at him. He was smart. He was powerful. And he was the enemy of her enemy.
“I’m busy this week,” she said. “I have some investments to manage.”
Elias blinked. “Investments? With what capital?”
Aurora smiled. It was a sharp, predatory smile.
“Watch the market tomorrow, Elias. Keep an eye on Vanguard Pharma.”
She turned and walked away toward the nurse.
Elias stood there, stunned. She had used his first name. He had used hers.
Vanguard Pharma? That was the hottest stock on the market. Everyone was buying.
He pulled out his phone. “Graves. Get me the financials on Vanguard. And check the options volume.”
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