Chapter 5 - THE SIGNATURE
Sophie wasn't Rachel's new husband's child. Sophie was Grant's.
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The air rushed out of my lungs, and I gripped the edge of the metal table to keep from collapsing.
Grant hadn't diverted the blood just to appease a wealthy donor. He had diverted the blood to save his own biological daughter, at the exact expense of his son.
And he had stolen my family's heirloom to propose a secret life to Rachel five years ago.
I shoved the photograph into my purse. I couldn't cry. The grief had instantly crystallized into a hard, sharp weapon inside my chest. I had to get back to the hospital. I had to get Eli out of there before Grant used his power to move him.
When I reached the pediatric floor, the atmosphere had changed. The friendly nurses who had brought me coffee were suddenly refusing to make eye contact.
I rushed into Eli's room.
The bed was empty.
"Eli!" I screamed, dropping my purse. The IV pole was pushed to the corner. The tray table was wiped clean.
"Mrs. Whitmore?"
I spun around. Standing in the doorway was a woman in a sharp gray suit, holding a manila folder. Behind her stood two hospital security guards.
"Where is my son?" I demanded, lunging toward her.
The guards immediately stepped forward, blocking my path.
"My name is Brenda Vance," the woman said smoothly. "I represent Whitmore Health's legal department. Your husband has authorized a transfer for Eli to a private rehabilitation facility."
"He can't do that. I didn't sign anything!"
Brenda Vance opened the folder. "Actually, he can. Grant Whitmore is the primary medical proxy. And given your... recent instability, he felt it was best."
"My instability?" I laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "He left his son bleeding while he ate cake with his mistress!"
"Mrs. Whitmore, raising your voice won't help," Brenda said. She pulled a document from the folder and held it out. "We have sworn affidavits from the nursing staff that you exhibited violent behavior this morning. You physically shoved your husband. You threatened a board member, Rachel Palmer."
"Because they are trying to kill my son!"
"Furthermore," Brenda continued, unbothered, "we have the notes from your grief counselor, Dr. Evans, from three years ago."
Dr. Evans. The same man who delayed Eli's surgery. He wasn't just the Chief of Medicine; he had been the private therapist Grant insisted I see when my mother passed away. Grant had weaponized my therapy against me.
"He took Eli," I whispered, the horror fully setting in.
"Eli is receiving the best care," Brenda said. "But until the custody hearing next Tuesday, you are legally barred from contact. If you try to find him, Grant will have you arrested for trespassing and child endangerment."
She handed me the document. At the bottom was a signature.
But it wasn't Grant's signature.
It was my own.
I stared at the looping 'M' and the sharp 'W'. It was a perfect forgery.
"I didn't sign this," I said, my voice shaking.
"The notary says otherwise," Brenda smiled. "Now, please vacate the premises, or security will escort you out."
I looked at the forged signature again. And then, a memory clicked into place. Two nights ago, Grant had asked me to sign a stack of insurance renewal forms on the kitchen counter. He had hurried me, saying the broker was waiting.
He had planned this before the accident.
He didn't just capitalize on Eli getting hit by a car.
He had already been planning to take my son and my money.
I walked past Brenda, my shoulder brushing hers. I didn't fight the guards. I walked out of the hospital with my head held high, clutching my purse.
Grant thought he had outsmarted a naive housewife. He forgot that before I married into the Whitmore empire, I was a forensic accountant.
May you like
I pulled my phone out in the elevator and dialed a number I hadn't called in ten years.
"Marcus," I said when the gruff voice answered. "I need you to hack the Whitmore Health mainframe. Specifically, a pediatric case file. Name: Sophie Palmer."
