Page 5 of Redamancy (Fated Fixation #2)

Chapter three

I t’s stupid—this itch.

I can’t get rid of it, no matter how long I scratch, how much saltwater I gargle (LuAnne’s idea), or how often I rub the expired antihistamine cream I found in the back of our medicine cabinet on my chest (also LuAnne’s idea).

But it’s under my skin now, like a phantom spider crawling between my ribs. Not painful, just insistent to the point of constantly gnawing at my focus.

This is all LuAnne’s fault, I tell myself. I was fine not knowing. I was good at pretending I didn’t care…but she had to push. She had to ask, and then I had to think about it—really think about it.

And now I can’t stop.

I’m supposed to be painting.

I’m supposed to be harnessing my creative energy to produce the final pieces of my collection, but I can hardly think, and nothing I create is worthy of a refrigerator right now, let alone the Ars Astrum.

So, on day three, for the sake of my career and my sanity, I scratch the itch.

In the dark of my bedroom, I unblock Adrian’s name from my browser.

And then I search, well, everything.

I’m not really sure what I expect to find—maybe a couple grainy paparazzi photos and some exclusives about the Ellis family—but clearly, Adrian has taken a sizable step into the limelight since leaving Lionswood.

Adrian Ellis Starts Charity Foundation in His Family’s Name

Ellis Foundation to Send $10B Worth of Supplies to Clinics Across the World

Adrian Ellis Gives Heartwarming Graduation Speech After Finishing Bachelor of Science Degree Two Years Early at Harvard University

Adrian Ellis Graduates Summa Cum Laude and One Year Early at Harvard Medical School

Adrian Ellis Matched to John-Hopkins for General Surgery Residency

Adrian Ellis To Take Cardiovascular Surgical Fellowship; Location Unknown

One after another, dozens of curated articles lauding Adrian’s many achievements with the Ellis foundation, his budding surgical career, and occasional speculation about his net worth (the internet seems torn whether he’s worth five-hundred billion or seven-hundred billion).

And if I thought the Lionswood student body idolized Adrian, the public loves him now.

His Harvard classmates speak fondly of him.

His patients gush about the exceptional care—and occasional pro bono heart transplants—they've received.

His co-workers at the Mayo Clinic have genuine respect in their voices when they discuss him.

Even The New York Times fawns over him. One of their recent articles, dated just three months ago, is titled: Adrian Ellis, Ushering in a New Era of Accountability for Billionaires.

“I’m just doing what anyone with endless resources should do,” he says in the article—and the journalist interviewing him loves that answer just as much as the three-hundred comments do.

None of these people have a clue, I think. No idea what he’s really like.

But how could they?

He’s dedicated—not just his money—but his time to saving lives, and he’s so well media-trained in all these articles that, for a moment, I wonder if he hasn’t really transformed into the altruistic, bleeding-hearted billionaire the rest of the world believes him to be.

It’s just the face he puts on for the world, I remind myself. His mask.

And all masks have cracks.

So, I wade past the PR and fluff pieces, looking for something more concrete, but it’s not easy. Adrian is far stingier with details of his private life than with his professional one.

Eventually, though, I think I find something worth the screen-induced headache that’s brewing behind my eyes—a video interview from six months ago with Suzie Edmond, the talk-show host I caught playing on the bar’s TV the other night.

What’s weird is that the interview is completely unlisted from her site. There’s no mention of it on her social media, no clips of it on her official channel.

Almost like someone—Suzie, Adrian, or a PR team, I don’t know—has tried to scrub it from existence entirely.

There’s only one re-uploaded video of it on a YouTube gossip channel with about three views.

I become the fourth.

“Welcome back, everyone!” Suzie’s nasally voice cuts through the dying speakers of my laptop.

“I have a very special guest with us here today. You may not recognize him, but I’m certain you’ve heard his last name.

” She pauses for dramatic effect and then claps her hands together.

“So now, here to talk about the incredible work the Ellis Foundation is doing, is Adrian Ellis!”

The camera pans to the armchair opposite Suzie, and my stomach bottoms out.

Holy shit.

I suddenly regret the decade-long decision to avoid all-things-Adrian-Ellis because I feel completely unprepared for this.

For him.

In full HD video.

Is that really him?

It must be, because Suzie has introduced him as Adrian Ellis, but the man lounging in the set armchair is not the eighteen-year-old that still lives in my head.

I don’t recognize this Adrian at all.

His hair is longer than I remember, framing his face and nape in a way that’s so deliberately controlled it looks like he’s positioned each dark curl himself.

The camera zooms in, capturing the details of his face through the pixelated screen, and I inhale sharply.

I didn’t think it was possible for him to get more beautiful, but now that time has whittled away the softness of youth, he’s all defined planes and sharp lines.

A square jaw.

Cheekbones like knives.

Full lips and thick, inky lashes.

“Thank you for having me, Ms. Edmond,” he says, and even his voice has grown up—it’s deeper, softer, richer.

A man’s voice.

This Adrian is a man, and one that bears little resemblance to the boy I knew at Lionswood.

One thing hasn’t changed, though.

His eyes are exactly as I remember—two bottomless obsidian pools ready to swallow you whole.

“Please. It’s Suzie to all my guests. You have no idea how ecstatic I am to have you here, Dr. Ellis,” Suzie says, clapping her hands together again. “I’ve noticed you rarely do video interviews like this—only print pieces. Any reason why?”

The camera pans back to him, and—

Is he…bigger?

I cock my head to the side, trying to figure out whether the shoulders cloaked in that pale sweater were always this broad or if it’s a recent development.

“Well, I’m a little camera-shy, Suzie.” He smiles, almost sheepishly, and averts his eyes like he’s embarrassed—but I know better.

Adrian Ellis is never embarrassed.

Suzie laughs, her gaze raking over him with little subtly. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

Adrian shifts position in the chair and—yes. Definitely broader.

An uncomfortable tightness settles in my lower belly.

I don’t think it’s possible for ugly and Adrian to exist in the same sentence, but some part of me wishes there was an immediate physical ick to kill my attraction.

I’d take anything—an obvious cigarette habit, some male pattern baldness, a beer gut…

But no.

Of course, ten years later, he’s still got to look like some inhumanely beautiful Adonis who’s never missed a day at the gym.

Suzie launches into a list of questions about the Ellis Foundation while the in-studio audience oohs and awes with every answer.

None of it’s new information—at least, nothing I haven’t already gleaned from a myriad of Forbes and Business Insider articles—but Adrian makes even the most prepared, PR-driven answers sound like he's reinvented the wheel.

My fingers itch for a new reason now.

“You truly are as altruistic as they say, Dr. Ellis,” Suzie gushes. “I mean, just sitting across from you, hearing you speak…I can tell you’re a genuine, kind soul.”

I snort.

“I mean,” Suzie continues. “All the money in the world, and you still choose to dedicate your life to a profession as noble—and humbling—as healthcare.”

Adrian smiles. “What’s all the money in the world if you can’t put it toward a good cause?

Or live a life of purpose? I’ve known from a very young age I wanted to do more than just write checks from an ivory tower.

Being a doctor allows me to take a grounded, hands-on approach to helping people—and it's infinitely more rewarding. "

I’m assaulted with a memory before I can blink it away: my disbelieving scoff as Adrian tells me he’s going to be a doctor. The cold glint in his eyes as he confesses he can’t wait to wield scalpel against skin.

Right.

I wonder what his patients would think if they knew what their “healer” was truly like.

But the sincerity on his face is so real, so close to being genuine, that I can’t even blame the audience for applauding him like he’s just announced an end to world hunger.

“Well,” Suzie glances down at the keycards in her lap, then back to Adrian—a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “If you've got the time, I have a couple more questions for you, Dr. Ellis. They’re not on topic, but I hope you’ll indulge me.”

If Adrian is annoyed, it doesn’t show. “Of course, Suzie.”

“Perfect.” Her bright veneers gleam under the studio lighting. “I won’t waste time then. Straight to what the people want to know, which is…" She pauses, perched in her chair, to build suspense. "Is the world's most altruistic billionaire also an eligible one ? "

My breath catches.

Adrian laughs—not a genuine one, like when he throws his head back and the sound vibrates in the back of his throat—but a for-show laugh. “I doubt everyone is wondering.”

Suzie raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I assure you, they are.” She turns to the audience. “Aren’t you?”

The resounding cheer is answer enough.

“I prefer to keep my private life just that,” Adrian tells her. “But—”

But?

Suzie leans in closer. “But?”

“I wouldn’t define myself as eligible, but I’m not currently seeing anyone,” he finishes, and I have no explanation for the wave of relief that soars through me.

As of six months ago, he’s not seeing anyone.

No supermodel-Olympic-athlete girlfriends or wives.

Which doesn’t matter to me, I remind myself. Not at all.

“I see,” Suzie nearly purrs, her smile widening. “Well, on that topic, I have another question. About your mother.”

“Well, she’s seeing my father.” I can feel Adrian’s charm—even through the screen—effortlessly pulling me in the same way it’s drawing in the audience. “Happily married—it’ll be thirty years this September.”

"Good to know, but actually…" Suzie chuckles for a moment, and then she’s back to business.

“When reading up on you, I caught an old interview Mary Ellis must've done years ago, and in it, she mentions a pearl necklace.

A family heirloom—passed from daughter to daughter.

Your parents, of course, only have you."

Adrian lifts his brows, a playful smile on his face. "As far as I'm aware, yes."

There's more chuckling from the audience as Suzie asks, "So, this necklace. Is that something your future wife will receive?"

Adrian nods. “The necklace in question is a set of natural pearls that have been passed through the Ellis family for hundreds of years, originally gifted to one of my female ancestors by a Dutch prince.” He pauses just long enough for the audience to ooh.

“When my mother married my father, my grandmother gifted her the pearls—a sign that she approved of the marriage. So yes, when that day comes, my future wife will receive the necklace too.”

My stomach does not clench at the thought of Adrian’s faceless, supermodel-Olympic-athlete wife wearing a pearl necklace worth millions.

It doesn’t matter.

“The Ellis family seems to care deeply about their family traditions,” Suzie says.

“Like any other family, I suppose,” Adrian replies.

“But most families aren’t passing on hundreds of billions of dollars.”

It’s clearly a pointed question, but Adrian’s perfect facade never wavers. “That’s true. We are— I am—privileged beyond comparison.”

“I’ve heard a rumor,” Suzie continues. “That Ellis children don’t receive access to the full family trust until they’re twenty-eight years old.

” The look in Suzie’s eyes is hungry. “And you turned twenty-eight last month—happy belated birthday, by the way—so, I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this. ”

And there it is—a twitch in Adrian’s brow.

Completely unnoticeable to anyone else, but I see it for what it is.

A hairline crack in the mask.

Still, he hardly misses a beat. “The interworkings of my family finances would take three CPAs, two accountants, and a bookkeeper just to decipher—it’s not worth your airtime, I assure you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Suzie retorts. “I am very curious. Have you gained access to your family’s full trust?”

If this were a private, taped interview, Adrian probably could’ve cut the cameras two questions ago.

But Susie’s got him in front of a live, in-studio audience, and judging by the slight narrowing of his eyes, Adrian seems to realize that.

“No,” he clears his throat. “Not yet. There are a few legalities—again, not worth your airtime—to clear up first, but it should be a matter of months.” He clasps his hands together. “Now that I’ve indulged you, maybe we can get back to the topic at-hand? The Ellis Foundation?”

Suzie smiles. “Of course, Dr. Ellis.”

The interview lasts for a few more minutes, but there’s nothing more of note, and when I close my laptop, with the first rays of dawn creeping over the Manhattan skyline, my head is swimming.

And the itch?

It’s still here.