Chapter 5 - The Doctor Who Was Paid to Be Helpful
Claire did not panic when I told her about the ledger.
That was the part that frightened me most.
For several seconds, I heard nothing but her breathing over the phone. Then she said, “Read the line exactly.”
I did.
“Dr. Samuel Voss. Two hundred fifty thousand. Delivery window.”
Michael stood across my father’s desk, watching me.
Claire asked, “Anything else beside his name?”
I turned the page.
There was.
A date.
Three weeks from now.
Claire’s estimated due date.
Underneath it, one sentence had been written in smaller letters.
TRANSFER AUTHORITY IF MEDICAL EMERGENCY CONFIRMED.
Michael swore.
“What does that mean?” Claire asked.
“We don’t know yet.”
“Don’t protect me from the words, Daniel.”
I closed my eyes.
“It looks like Victor expected some kind of medical emergency around your delivery.”
For the first time, fear entered her voice.
“Our baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel.”
“I don’t know.”
The words tasted like failure.
Claire went quiet again.
Then she said, “I need another doctor.”
“Yes.”
“One I choose.”
“Yes.”
“And not someone who works for you.”
That was harder than it should have been.
“Fine.”
“I mean it.”
“I said fine.”
She gave a short breath that might have been a laugh in another life.
“You sound like agreeing physically hurts.”
“It does.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll remember it.”
Michael looked away to hide a smile.
Claire selected Northwestern Memorial because Rebecca knew a maternal-fetal specialist there from nursing school. She refused to tell me the doctor’s name until after the appointment.
I respected that.
Barely.
While she arranged the visit, Michael and I photographed every page of the ledger and locked the original in a bank safe-deposit box under Julia Bennett’s control.
Then we turned to Dr. Voss.
He had treated Claire for six years.
He had delivered Rebecca’s second child.
He had attended our charity events.
He had shaken my hand and told me my daughter looked perfect on an ultrasound I had missed.
My anger wanted him guilty immediately.
Evidence required patience.
Michael found the first crack.
Voss had personal debt.
A lot of it.
Two investment properties had gone into foreclosure. His wife had filed for divorce. His clinic had quietly settled two malpractice claims.
The second crack was worse.
One month before Victor’s first payment, Voss had opened a private consulting corporation in Delaware.
The company had no website.
No employees.
No clients anyone could identify.
Victor’s shell company was its only source of income.
“What did he give Victor?” I asked.
“Records,” Michael said. “Probably appointment times too.”
“That’s enough to destroy him.”
“Legally? Yes.”
“Not what I meant.”
Michael gave me a long look.
“Claire’s rules.”
I turned toward the window.
I hated that two words could now control me more effectively than a gun.
But they did.
“No violence,” I said.
“Good.”
“Yet.”
Michael stared.
I exhaled. “No violence.”
At noon, Julia called.
She had reviewed the Adelaide Provision.
“The emergency clause can be activated,” she said, “but we need proof that Victor’s actions threaten the beneficiary.”
“We have surveillance.”
“Good.”
“Illegal access to medical records.”
“Better.”
“Payments to Claire’s doctor.”
Julia paused.
“That may be enough for a temporary injunction.”
“What would that do?”
“Freeze Victor’s trust voting rights pending investigation.”
Michael leaned in.
“And if we file?”
“Victor will know you found him.”
That changed the room.
Right now, Victor still thought he had secrets.
Filing would end that advantage.
“Wait,” I said.
Julia nodded. “I would.”
My phone rang.
Claire.
I answered before the first vibration ended.
“How was the appointment?”
There was a pause.
Then I heard her crying.
Everything inside me broke loose.
“Claire.”
“She’s okay.”
I gripped the desk.
“The baby?”
“She’s okay.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I heard her heartbeat.”
Her voice cracked.
“And I realized I’ve spent weeks being scared of everyone instead of being happy about her.”
I sat down.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“No. I mean I’m sorry that I made part of that fear possible.”
She said nothing.
I continued because for once I wasn’t trying to convince her.
“I made our home feel unsafe before Victor ever planted a microphone. I taught you that I could lie to your face and call it protection. So when real danger came, you didn’t know whether I was a person you could run toward.”
Claire began crying harder.
I didn’t ask her to forgive me.
I didn’t deserve that shortcut.
Finally she whispered, “The specialist said the baby looks healthy.”
“Thank God.”
“She also said Voss’s claim about a heart problem makes no medical sense. Nothing in my records supports it.”
Michael heard.
“Get that in writing,” he said.
Claire replied, “Already did.”
I almost smiled.
Of course she had.
Then someone knocked wherever she was.
Claire stopped speaking.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t open the door.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say—”
“Daniel.”
“Right. Sorry.”
I heard movement.
A muffled voice came through the phone.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Male.
“Who is it?” Claire called.
“Northwestern patient services.”
Claire whispered, “That’s not possible. They don’t know where I’m staying.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Move away from the door.”
She did.
The man knocked again.
“Mrs. Carter, Dr. Harris asked me to bring your revised instructions.”
Claire was silent.
Michael grabbed a notepad and wrote:
ASK FOR EMPLOYEE ID.
Claire read my silence.
“What should I do?”
“Ask his ID number.”
She called through the door.
There was no answer.
Footsteps moved away.
Claire crossed to the peephole.
“He’s leaving.”
“Don’t open it.”
“I’m not.”
Michael was already calling building security through a public number.
“What building?” he asked me.
“I don’t know.”
Claire heard him.
“I’m at a hotel near O’Hare.”
“Name?”
She hesitated.
Then finally gave it.
That was the first location she had voluntarily shared with me since leaving.
I did not send men.
Michael contacted hotel security and Chicago police.
Cameras caught the visitor entering through a service stairwell wearing fake hospital scrubs.
He left through the kitchen loading dock.
His face appeared clearly on one camera.
Michael froze the image.
I knew him.
Not well.
Enough.
“Frank Deluca,” I said.
Victor’s driver.
Claire heard me.
“Oh my God.”
“Police are coming.”
“I need to leave.”
“No.”
She went silent.
I corrected myself immediately.
“You decide. But if you leave, tell the hotel security desk first so police know you’re moving.”
Another pause.
“Okay.”
That single word mattered.
We were not husband and wife in the way we had been.
But for one minute, we were partners.
Michael’s phone rang.
He listened, then put it down slowly.
“What?”
“Victor just called the board.”
“Why?”
“Emergency meeting tonight.”
I laughed without humor.
“He knows.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s the agenda?”
Michael turned the screen toward me.
A formal notice from Carter Holdings.
SPECIAL MEETING — REVIEW OF EXECUTIVE CAPACITY AND SUCCESSION RISK.
Executive capacity.
Mine.
Victor was not waiting anymore.
He was going after the company before the baby arrived.
And if he could make the board believe I was unstable, distracted, or dangerous, then every angry thing I had ever done was about to become evidence for him.
Including the affair.
May you like
Including Claire’s disappearance.
Including every mistake I had made while believing no one powerful enough to matter could ever use my private life against me.
