“No.”
“Does he know you suspected the insurance change before the fall?”
“Yes.”
Miller looked toward the hallway.
“Then we need to assume he may realize his mother has made a mistake.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Adrian had been visiting every day.
Holding my hand.
Bringing flowers.
Telling nurses how grateful he was that his wife had survived.
He had even kissed my forehead that morning.
And I had let him.
Not because I trusted him.
Because Detective Miller had asked me to behave exactly as I had before.
The police had already begun examining the insurance policy.
What interested Miller most was timing.
The coverage had not merely changed years earlier as part of routine financial planning.
It had been increased shortly before my fall.
As a forensic accountant, I knew timing rarely proved a crime by itself.
But timing could point toward motive.
And motive mattered when combined with opportunity, inconsistent statements, and a witness stupid enough to confess while committing another crime on camera.
Vivian had just given them that witness.
The next part happened faster than I expected.
Police separated Vivian from Adrian before either could learn exactly what the other had said.
Adrian arrived at the hospital later that afternoon carrying a paper cup of coffee and wearing the same exhausted-husband expression he had shown everyone since my fall.
He stopped when he saw Detective Miller outside my room.
“What happened?” he asked.
Miller told him there had been an incident involving his mother.
Adrian’s coffee cup bent slightly in his hand.
“What kind of incident?”
“She’s being questioned.”
That was all Miller gave him.
Adrian looked through the doorway at me.
His eyes moved immediately to the empty visitor’s chair where the spare pillow had been.
It was a tiny reaction.
Most people would have missed it.
I didn’t.
Neither did Miller.
Adrian came to my bedside.
“Are you okay?”
I looked at him.
For five years I had known the precise differences between his real expressions and the ones he used when he wanted something.
The concern on his face was excellent.
Almost perfect.
“I couldn’t breathe,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened.
“What did she do?”
I waited a beat.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
He stared at me.
That was our first honest moment since I went over the balcony.
He knew I suspected him.
I knew he knew.
Neither of us needed to say it aloud.
Miller stepped inside before the silence stretched further.
“Adrian, we’d like you to come with us and answer a few questions.”
