“Mr. Harrison,” I whispered, pulling the thin hospital blanket up to my chest.

He walked slowly to the foot of my bed, his leather shoes silent on the tile.

He looked around the small room with obvious distaste. “You always did have a habit of dragging things out,” he said.

“Get out of my room,” I said, trying to make my voice strong.

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sleek, black smartphone.

He laid it on the bedside table beside my water cup.

Then he pulled out a small leather folder.

“My wife made a tactical error five years ago,” Richard said, his eyes locking onto mine.

“She thought she could scare you away permanently with a few threats.”

“But I always knew you would be a lingering problem.”

“I am here to ensure that this problem is finally resolved.”

The light on the bedside telephone suddenly began to flash a bright, urgent red.

The screen lit up, showing an incoming call from the twelfth-floor administrative wing.

Ethan’s name scrolled across the caller ID.

Richard looked down at the flashing light, his expression unchanged.