Unwanted Blood (Harper) novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85

Harper’s POV

The next morning, I couldn’t help replaying the moment when Adrian and I had accidentally brushed lips.

No, it hadn’t even been a kiss.

And yet the lingering sensation had stayed with me all night.

I sat up fast, then I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow, forcing myself to stop thinking

about it.

When I finally pulled myself together and walked out of my room, Adrian was already in the kitchen.

He had his back to me, standing at the stove. His left hand was still wrapped in gauze. His right hand was holding the spatula at an awkward angle, trying to slide a fried egg onto a plate without much success.

He heard my footsteps and glanced over his shoulder. “Did I wake you?”

I shook my head. My eyes fell on the bandage. “You’re making breakfast like that?”

He looked down at his hand. “One hand is enough. Just slower.”

He said it lightly, but I noticed the egg splatter along the edge of the stove and the eggs on the plate-edges burnt, yolks broken. He wasn’t managing well.

I hesitated, then walked over and took the spatula from his hand. “Go sit down.”

He didn’t argue. He moved to the dining table and sat.

I stood with my back to him, cooking the second batch of eggs. A few seconds of silence. Then his voice came from behind me. “Your apron string is loose.”

Before I could react, I felt his fingers brush the knot at my side through the fabric.

I froze. Heat shot up to my ears.

I didn’t turn around. “I’ll handle it,” I said. My voice was tight.

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11:44

Chapter 85

He pulled his hand back. Said “It’s done.” Nothing more

“Thanks.” I fought the heat rising to my checks.

288 Vouchers

When I slid the eggs onto a plate and carried it to the table, I caught Colton standing in the passage between the living room and the kitchen. He didn’t say anything. His eyes moved from me to Adrian, slowly, then back again. Then he looked down at the glass of water in his hand and walked away.

At the far end of the hallway, Ryder was on the phone.

I couldn’t hear the words from the living room, but I could see his back-shoulders rigid, specch slower than usual, like he was weighing every sentence.

When he hung up and walked back, I set the plate down and waited.

Ryder put his phone on the table.

“The contact has an initial response to the protection plan. But someone’s already trying to pressure him through intermediaries-telling him to drop this. He can hold for now, but if it escalates, he needs something more concrete to justify not wasting judicial resources.

He looked at me.”He said if we can get a strong witness statement from someone inside Westbrook-preferably written or on video-then no one can bury this case.”

I heard him out. Then, without meaning to, my eyes shifted to Adrian.

He was sitting on the sofa. Quiet for a few seconds. Then, “A photocopy of the transfer receipt isn’t enough. But I can record a witness statement-in my capacity as my father’s former assistant. I can detail exactly how he arranged the medical record alterations.”

I looked at him. “You know what recording a statement like that means.”

He met my eyes. “I know. I said it, I can’t go back.”

–

After dinner, Harper and Adrian sat together at the dining table, sorting through the materials for the statement.

They were across from each other. Documents and notebooks spread between them. Adrian’s bandaged left hand made writing painfully slow. His right hand, still faintly red from the burn yesterday, gripped the pen with visible effort.

I’d been writing for a while when I looked up and saw him struggling to note down a string of

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