Chapter 2 - THE HOSPITAL BRACELET
The silence in the private dining room was absolute. Charles stared at Margaret, his face drained of all color, the arrogant smirk completely erased.
"I asked you a question, Charles," Margaret said, her voice carrying to the farthest corners of the room. "Where was Eleanor on Tuesday morning?"
Savannah tugged at Charles's sleeve. "Charles, tell them. Tell them she was at home."
"She wasn't at home," Margaret answered for him. She reached into her leather briefcase and pulled out a small, clear plastic evidence bag. Inside rested a white plastic band with a barcode. "Because on Tuesday morning, Eleanor was in the cardiac intensive care unit at Northwestern Memorial."
The senior banker, a man who had backed Charles for a decade, dropped his napkin. "Cardiac intensive care? Charles, you told us she was on a yoga retreat in Sedona."
I touched the healing incision on my chest. I had gone into a severe arrhythmia on Monday night. Charles hadn't ridden in the ambulance. He had stayed home to prepare for his 'big week.'
"She was under heavy sedation from 8:00 AM until Wednesday afternoon," Margaret continued, holding the bag higher. "Yet, miraculously, a notary stamped her signature on a forty-eight-million-dollar land transfer at 10:15 AM on Tuesday."
Charles loosened his tie, sweat pooling at his temples. "Margaret, you're taking this out of context. The doctors said she was fine. The paperwork was pre-arranged—"
"It was forged," Margaret cut in. "And it wasn't just any notary, Charles."
She turned to Savannah. The young woman was trembling, but her eyes were darting rapidly, calculating.
"Savannah," Margaret said softly. "Did you know the buyer Charles arranged for the riverfront property was a shell company called Blue Horizon LLC?"
Savannah stepped back. "I... I don't know anything about his business."
A sharp reversal hit the room. Margaret smiled grimly. "That's strange. Because the notary who supposedly witnessed my client signing her life away in a coma is your brother, Thomas Blake."
Savannah's face flushed red. The investors erupted into shouts.
But Charles wasn't looking at Savannah. He was staring at the plastic evidence bag in Margaret's hand.
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"Where did you get that hospital bracelet?" Charles demanded, his voice cracking.
Margaret let the bag drop onto the table, right next to my scratched music box. "Eleanor didn't give it to me, Charles. Your son did. He found it stuffed in the glove compartment of Savannah's Mercedes."
