Chapter 10 - THE FILE MARKED MIRIAM
Everyone turned toward Dr. Miriam Cole.
She stood beside the chair where she had examined me, one hand pressed against her mouth.
My father stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
But her eyes said otherwise.
The recording repeated.
“Elena Whitmore must sign before sunset. If she does not, release the file marked Miriam.”
Vanessa looked at the windows.
The sun had begun lowering behind the tall trees outside.
“How long until sunset?”
“Less than two hours,” Claire said.
My father watched Dr. Cole.
“Miriam?”
She lowered her hand.
“I was hoping this would never reach Elena.”
“What would never reach me?”
Dr. Cole looked at my injuries instead of my face.
“Your mother’s medical records.”
My father’s expression changed.
“My wife died from an aneurysm.”
“That was the official conclusion.”
The room became impossibly quiet.
I stepped toward her.
“You treated my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You signed her death certificate.”
Her eyes filled with grief.
“Yes.”
My father gripped the back of a chair.
“What are you saying?”
Dr. Cole’s voice trembled.
“Several weeks before Catherine died, she asked me to perform private blood tests.”
“Why?”
“She believed someone was giving her medication she had not been prescribed.”
My father stared at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She begged me not to.”
“My wife thought she was being poisoned, and you kept it from me?”
“I had no proof.”
“You had enough concern to run tests.”
“The results were inconclusive.”
My knees weakened.
Adrian watched the exchange with unnatural stillness.
I turned toward him.
“Did you know about this?”
“No.”
“Then why does someone connected to your fraud have a file named after Miriam?”
He looked at Dr. Cole.
“Maybe because your father surrounds himself with people who lie.”
My father ignored him.
“What happened to the test results?”
Miriam swallowed.
“They disappeared from the clinic system.”
“Who had access?”
“Three people. Myself, the laboratory director, and Whitmore family counsel.”
Everyone looked at Claire.
Claire shook her head.
“I never saw them.”
“You were family counsel,” Miriam said.
“I handled corporate matters, not medical records.”
“My request for secure storage was routed through your office.”
Claire’s face tightened.
“I don’t remember that.”
My father sat down slowly.
For the first time since entering the mansion, he looked shaken.
My mother had been the only person who could soften him.
After her death, part of him seemed to close permanently.
I had spent years believing grief caused that change.
Now I wondered whether guilt had been hiding beneath it.
My phone buzzed.
A new message appeared from the unknown number.
The sender had attached a photograph.
It showed my mother lying in a hospital bed.
Miriam stood beside her.
Claire stood near the door.
May you like
And in the corner, almost hidden by shadow, was a younger Adrian.
The photograph had been taken three years before I met him.
