Chapter 7 - The Hospital Plan
Agent Reed had security placed outside my room within twenty minutes.
Nobody said I was in immediate danger.
They didn't have to.
The documents changed everything.
Temporary medical authority.
Emergency guardianship.
Prewritten statements claiming I had suffered a psychological crisis.
A draft affidavit saying I had threatened to take my own child and disappear.
All prepared before the baby shower.
All dated that week.
Beatrice had built a legal cage and waited for me to fall into it.
"What would she have done if I hadn't been hurt?"
I asked Reed.
"We don't know."
I hated that answer.
"Find out."
"We are."
"Faster."
Reed let that sit.
Then she said, "Julian wants to speak with you."
"No."
"He says he'll cooperate."
"No."
"He claims he knows why your father was targeted."
That was harder.
I looked toward Grace's incubator through the glass.
"Still no."
Reed nodded.
"I expected that."
She started to leave.
"Naomi."
She stopped.
"Ask him one question."
"What?"
"Ask him why he married me."
Two hours later, she returned.
"He says he was told to meet you."
I stared at her.
"By Beatrice?"
"Yes."
"Did he know who I was?"
"He knew you were Daniel Hayes's daughter."
My chest tightened.
"Did he know about the company?"
"He says he knew there had been a dispute."
"A dispute."
"He claims he didn't know the details."
I laughed bitterly.
"Convenient."
"He also says he fell in love with you afterward."
I looked at her.
"That does not matter."
"No."
"It makes it worse."
Reed nodded.
There was a knock.
A nurse stepped inside.
"Clara, someone delivered flowers."
"No flowers."
"We didn't bring them in."
My heart skipped.
"Who sent them?"
"No card."
Reed was on her feet immediately.
"Where are they?"
"At the nurses' station."
Reed left.
Five minutes later, she returned holding a small white envelope inside an evidence sleeve.
"It was hidden under the vase."
My mouth went dry.
"What does it say?"
She turned it around.
There were six words written in black ink.
YOUR FATHER SHOULD HAVE STAYED QUIET.
I felt no fear.
Only certainty.
"Beatrice."
"Maybe."
"Who else?"
"We're checking cameras."
My phone rang.
Arthur Vance.
Reed looked at the screen.
"Answer."
I put it on speaker.
Arthur sounded twenty years older.
"Clara."
"What do you want?"
"To tell you that you are wrong."
"About which crime?"
"About Daniel."
My breath caught.
Reed began recording.
Arthur continued.
"I did not order what happened to your father."
"Did you know?"
A long silence.
"Eventually."
"How eventually?"
"After the acquisition."
"And you kept the patents."
"By then, the transaction was complete."
"You profited from theft."
"I tried to compensate him."
"By doing what?"
"Sending money."
My mind flashed to the ledger.
"Payments."
"Yes."
"My father never received anything."
"I know."
"What?"
Arthur's voice hardened.
"The money disappeared."
"Where?"
"I spent years wondering."
Then he said the name I expected.
"Beatrice."
Reed wrote something on her notepad.
Arthur lowered his voice.
"Your mother-in-law has been moving money inside my company for longer than you know."
"Your company?"
A bitter laugh came through the speaker.
"That's the lie, Clara."
"What lie?"
"Vance Holdings stopped being mine fifteen years ago."
I frowned.
"You're chairman."
"I'm the face."
"Whose company is it?"
Arthur was quiet.
Then he said, "Hers."
The line crackled.
"Beatrice built an organization inside the organization."
"What organization?"
"Politicians."
"Judges."
"Bankers."
"Consultants."
"People who owed her favors."
My stomach tightened.
"The black ledger."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you stop her?"
"Because by the time I understood what she had built, she had evidence on me too."
For the first time, Arthur did not sound powerful.
He sounded trapped.
Then his voice dropped.
"And if you think the FBI raid ended it, you're wrong."
"Why?"
"Because Beatrice isn't trying to save the company."
"What is she trying to save?"
"One account."
"What account?"
Arthur inhaled.
"The account containing the money she stole from everyone."
"How much?"
May you like
His answer made Reed stop writing.
"Two hundred and eighty million dollars."
