Chapter 14 - Lily’s Sister

Victor looked at Lily.

“You have a sister?”

“Had.”

Her voice barely worked.

“Sofia died when I was nine.”

“My mother said it was a rare neurological reaction.”

She stared at the file.

“But she was healthy before the trial.”

Monroe opened the record.

Sofia Mason had been enrolled in an early Hale Biomedical pediatric therapy program.

Consent signature.

Rosa Mason.

Lily’s mother.

Lily shook her head.

“She would never agree to something dangerous.”

Monroe scrolled.

The consent form had been altered after signing.

Risk disclosures replaced.

Dosage levels increased.

Lily’s eyes filled.

“She worked here because of Sofia.”

Victor realized it.

“Your mother took the housekeeping job to investigate.”

Lily nodded slowly.

“That must be why Amelia trusted her.”

The story connected across generations.

Rosa discovered something.

Amelia discovered something.

Both women hid evidence.

Both died before they could expose it.

Lily looked at Victor.

“My mother didn’t die from cancer naturally.”

Victor went still.

“You don’t know that.”

“No.”

“But I know enough to ask.”

Monroe pulled Rosa’s medical file.

Cause of death.

Pancreatic cancer.

Nothing suspicious at first glance.

Then another document appeared in Serena’s phone.

Payment authorization.

Dr. Adrian Cole.

Private hospice consultation for Rosa Mason.

Lily stared.

“Why was Serena paying Sofia’s mother’s doctor?”

Monroe looked grim.

“We need Cole.”

Police had already searched his home.

Empty.

Airport surveillance showed no departure.

His car was found near the harbor.

Victor looked at the countdown.

Fifty-eight hours remained.

Lily’s grief hardened into purpose.

“We find him.”

Monroe nodded.

A search of Serena’s messages revealed encrypted appointments.

One location repeated.

St. Vincent’s Private Clinic.

Closed seven years earlier.

The building now belonged to a Hale subsidiary.

Victor frowned.

“I didn’t know we owned it.”

“That is becoming a pattern,” Lily said quietly.

Victor accepted the blow.

They reached the abandoned clinic that afternoon.

The basement had power.

Fresh footprints crossed the dust.

Monroe drew her weapon.

They entered a locked treatment room.

Dr. Adrian Cole sat inside.

Alive.

Hands bound.

Mouth taped.

Someone had beaten him.

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On the wall above his chair, written in red marker, were five words.

HE KNOWS WHO REALLY KILLED AMELIA.