Chapter 62 - Cordelia’s Version
Cordelia gave her third interview from a private hospital suite with a physician present and her attorney sitting close enough to interrupt her breathing. Her stroke had been mild. Speech intact. Memory intact. Pride completely intact.
Ruiz placed the Platform Three waiver on the table.
Cordelia looked at it and smiled faintly.
“Lydia always did enjoy insurance.”
“You signed this.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Eden was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You later financed efforts to locate her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Cordelia looked almost bored.
“Because Lydia died.”
“That changed what?”
“Everything.”
Cordelia’s version was chilling because parts of it made sense.
While Lydia lived, Cordelia believed she could control Marcus.
After Lydia died, Abigail and the possibly surviving Eden became vulnerable to outside influence.
Then Noah became part of the Hale trust.
Then Grant became a financial obstacle.
Cordelia believed the Wren family needed to know whether Eden was alive before the trust shifted beyond reach.
“You could have used lawyers,” Ruiz said.
“Lawyers create records.”
“You preferred private investigators.”
“I preferred answers.”
“You funded psychological manipulation.”
“I funded risk modeling.”
Ruiz leaned forward.
“You had a synthetic video made using a dead woman’s face to influence two children.”
Cordelia’s expression finally changed.
“I never intended them to see the prototype.”
That was as close to confession as we needed emotionally.
Creed had kept and weaponized the file.
But Cordelia had commissioned the concept.
She claimed she never authorized the fake Lydia letter Marianne used.
Rachel’s evidence suggested otherwise.
The investigation continued.
Then Ruiz asked about Lydia’s medical records.
Cordelia went still.
“Did you know Lydia had an inherited cardiac risk?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Marcus told me.”
Marcus had denied knowing.
Another lie.
“How did Marcus know?”
Cordelia looked toward her attorney.
No answer.
“Were you at the hospital after Noah was born?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I wanted Lydia to resolve the trust problem before she died.”
The room chilled.
Ruiz corrected her.
“Before she died?”
Cordelia’s mouth tightened.
“She was ill.”
“You knew she was going to die?”
“No.”
“You just said before she died.”
“A figure of speech.”
Nobody believed that.
“What did you discuss?”
“I told her the girls’ identities could destabilize every family involved.”
“What did Lydia say?”
Cordelia looked out the hospital window.
“She said, ‘Good.’”
Even I smiled when I heard that.
Then Cordelia said something worse.
“She told me if anything happened to her, Grant would eventually find everything.”
Grant’s face changed.
“She expected me to find it?”
Eleanor whispered, “Maybe.”
Cordelia continued.
“I told her Grant would hate her.”
“And?”
“She said that would be his right.”
For the first time, Lydia’s choices felt less like an unfinished puzzle and more like a woman who knew consequences were coming.
Then Ruiz asked whether Cordelia touched Lydia’s medication.
“No.”
“Did you direct anyone to?”
“No.”
“Did you speak to hospital staff about her treatment?”
Cordelia hesitated.
Her attorney started talking.
Ruiz stopped him.
Cordelia answered.
“I asked whether she was being kept calm.”
That phrase mattered.
The extra sedative dose.
The uncharted dispensation.
Not proof.
But enough for subpoenas.
A retired hospital administrator identified the person who requested Lydia be given “something for agitation.”
Not Cordelia.
A hospital patient liaison.
Name: Marianne Cross.
Everyone stared when Ruiz read it.
Marianne.
She had known Lydia before the Cross family.
She had been designated guardian for Abigail.
She had later married Charles Wren.
She had become entangled with Evelyn Cross.
And she had been in Lydia’s hospital the night before Lydia died.
Marianne’s plea cooperation had never included that fact.
May you like
Grant’s face went completely still.
“Bring her back in.”
