Chapter 8 - THE SECOND FAMILY
Emily disconnected Harold’s video access immediately.
Not because she believed he killed Catherine.
Because she no longer knew what to believe.
Raymond paced beside the window.
Margaret reread the forensic report.
Marcus called Detective Bennett.
Nobody used the word murder.
Not yet.
But it sat inside the room anyway.
Emily finally spoke.
“Could the DNA be wrong?”
Margaret answered.
“Possible contamination.”
“Could Harold have handled the letter later?”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
“We don’t know.”
Emily looked at Raymond.
“When the threats arrived, who had access?”
“Your mother.”
“Her assistant.”
“Security.”
“Legal.”
“Me.”
“And Harold?”
Raymond hesitated.
“Yes.”
Emily exhaled.
“So the DNA proves contact, not authorship.”
“Correct.”
She wanted that distinction.
Needed it.
Harold had just helped expose his son.
But guilt and honesty could live inside the same person.
People were rarely one thing.
Detective Bennett arrived twenty minutes later.
She reviewed the chain of custody.
Then ordered a full reexamination of Catherine’s old case.
Emily watched her.
“Can you reopen a death from fourteen years ago?”
“If there is new evidence.”
“Is this new evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
The detective nodded.
“We already are.”
At ten thirty, Preston’s attorney contacted Margaret.
Preston wanted to negotiate.
Emily laughed.
“What does he think this is?”
Margaret looked tired.
“He is offering to resign from Whitmore Capital.”
“In exchange for?”
“No criminal referral from Saint Claire related to the forged proxy.”
Raymond nearly smiled.
“No.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
Margaret nodded.
“I assumed.”
“What else?”
“He will transfer his interest in the family home.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“I don’t want the house.”
Margaret waited.
“I want truth.”
Raymond looked at her.
“That is not normally how settlement negotiations work.”
“Then this is not normal.”
Margaret closed the folder.
“What would you accept?”
Emily thought.
“Full financial disclosure.”
“Every shell company.”
“Every transfer.”
“Every communication with Vanessa.”
“Every document involving my shares.”
“And a sworn statement about my mother.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed.
“You think Preston knows something.”
“I think he knows more than he’s saying.”
Raymond nodded.
“So do I.”
Margaret left to respond.
Preston rejected the terms within eleven minutes.
That told Emily enough.
At noon, a nurse brought lunch.
Emily managed three bites.
Then a hospital aide entered carrying flowers.
White tulips.
Emily stared.
Her favorite.
Preston used to send them.
The aide set the vase down.
“There’s a card.”
Raymond moved first.
“Don’t touch it.”
Marcus took gloves from a drawer.
He removed the card.
One line.
I remember who you were before they turned you against me.
No signature.
Emily did not need one.
She looked at the tulips.
Once, they meant love.
Now they felt like surveillance.
“Take them out.”
Marcus did.
Twenty minutes later, he returned.
“There was something inside the vase.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“A tracking device.”
Raymond’s face hardened.
Emily stared.
“Active?”
“Yes.”
“Whoever sent it could track the flowers?”
“Yes.”
“Meaning track me.”
“If they assumed the flowers stayed with you.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Preston had not sent affection.
He had sent a location beacon.
“Can you trace it?”
“We’re trying.”
By late afternoon, the device led investigators to a prepaid account purchased by a Whitmore Capital security contractor.
Raymond immediately froze every Saint Claire contract associated with the company.
Then the board meeting notice went public.
Emergency meeting.
Nine a.m. tomorrow.
Restricted attendance.
Verified voting credentials only.
Emily was still under medical observation.
Dr. Shah did not want her attending physically.
So Emily would vote remotely.
At five, Margaret brought the preliminary voting count.
Without Emily’s twenty-eight percent, Raymond controlled thirty-one percent.
Independent directors held twenty-three.
Whitmore-affiliated investors held eighteen.
Cross-linked entities held the rest.
Emily frowned.
“Cross-linked?”
Margaret nodded.
“Vanessa controls more voting influence than we thought.”
“How much?”
“Nine percent directly.”
“And indirectly?”
“Potentially fourteen.”
Emily looked at Raymond.
“If Preston had my twenty-eight…”
“He and Vanessa could control the company.”
Emily finally understood how close they had come.
“Tomorrow ends it.”
Raymond nodded.
“If the independent directors hold.”
“Will they?”
Margaret hesitated.
That was not encouraging.
“Some are nervous.”
“About?”
“Market reaction.”
“Lawsuits.”
“Patient confidence.”
“Donors.”
Emily stared.
“So they might vote with people who forged my name because public relations scares them.”
Raymond sighed.
“Boards are disappointing organisms.”
Emily leaned back.
“Who’s undecided?”
Margaret listed three names.
Emily knew one.
Dr. Evelyn Park.
Former pediatric surgeon.
Seventy-two.
Friend of Catherine.
“Call Evelyn.”
Raymond frowned.
“You haven’t spoken to her in years.”
“I know.”
Emily called.
Evelyn answered on the second ring.
“Emily.”
Her voice was warm.
“I wondered when you would call.”
Emily blinked.
“You know?”
“I know enough.”
“I need your vote.”
“I know.”
Emily waited.
Evelyn sighed.
“Your mother once asked me to promise something.”
“What?”
“That if Saint Claire ever became a fight between money and medicine, I would choose medicine.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“And?”
“And I am very old.”
Emily almost smiled.
“I no longer care who dislikes me.”
“So you’re with us?”
“No.”
Emily’s heart sank.
Evelyn continued.
“I’m with the hospitals.”
Emily understood.
“That’s enough.”
“Good.”
Then Evelyn’s voice changed.
“There is something else.”
Emily waited.
“Your mother came to see me two days before she died.”
Raymond looked up.
Emily put the phone on speaker.
“What did she say?”
“She was frightened.”
Raymond moved closer.
“Catherine never told me.”
“She didn’t want you involved.”
“That sounds like her.”
Emily swallowed.
“What frightened her?”
“She had discovered a second family.”
Emily frowned.
“Whose?”
Evelyn paused.
“Graham Cross’s.”
Raymond’s eyes narrowed.
“What second family?”
“He had a daughter no one knew about.”
Emily’s skin prickled.
“Vanessa?”
“No.”
Evelyn’s answer came slowly.
“Vanessa was already known.”
Emily looked at Raymond.
“Then who?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“Mom knew?”
“I think so.”
“What did she say?”
Evelyn inhaled.
“She said, ‘The daughter isn’t the danger. The mother is.’”
Emily stared at the phone.
“What mother?”
“I never found out.”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Catherine died before we spoke again.”
The call ended.
Emily sat in silence.
Vanessa’s family history had just become larger.
Somewhere, Graham Cross had another daughter.
And somewhere behind that daughter was a woman Catherine Saint Claire had believed was dangerous.
Before Emily could ask another question, Marcus entered.
His expression was grim.
“We traced the threatening message sent to Emily.”
Raymond stood.
“To whom?”
“Not Preston.”
Emily felt her stomach tighten.
“Vanessa?”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
“The phone was activated using an employee credential.”
“Whose?”
Marcus looked directly at Emily.
“Your obstetric nurse.”
Emily froze.
“Elena?”
“No.”
May you like
Marcus paused.
“The nurse who was scheduled to care for you during the induction next Tuesday.”
