Chapter 4 - The Name Claire Wouldn’t Say
“Who knew?”
Claire stared at the handwritten message.
Ethan waited.
“Claire.”
She closed her eyes.
“Dr. Nathan Vale.”
Ethan knew the name.
Everyone at St. Matthew’s did.
Nathan Vale was one of the hospital’s most respected hematologists, a brilliant physician who had spent twenty years treating complex blood disorders.
He was also Ethan’s former mentor.
“Nathan?”
Claire nodded.
“He diagnosed me.”
“Why him?”
“I didn’t want anyone in your department finding out.”
“And you thought Nathan wouldn’t tell me?”
“I made him promise.”
Ethan stood.
“He should have called me.”
“He couldn’t.”
“He could have convinced you.”
“He tried.”
Ethan paced toward the window.
Nathan had attended their wedding.
Nathan had given Ethan his first recommendation for a fellowship.
Nathan knew exactly how much Claire meant to him.
For seven months, he had known she was dying.
“You saw him every week?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s where you were going?”
“Yes.”
“The afternoons you said you were with your sister?”
“Yes.”
Ethan turned.
“And I accused you of seeing someone.”
Claire looked down.
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me then?”
“Because anger was working.”
The words struck him.
“What?”
“You were pulling away.”
She swallowed.
“That was what I wanted.”
Ethan looked sick.
“You deliberately let me think you were cheating?”
“I never said I was.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Claire, do you understand what that did to me?”
“Yes.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
His voice remained quiet, which somehow made the pain sharper.
“I spent months wondering what was wrong with me. Whether I worked too much. Whether I stopped being interesting to you. Whether there was another man who made you happier.”
Claire cried silently.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t get those months back.”
“I know.”
“And neither do I.”
He turned away.
Then Claire said something unexpected.
“There was another reason.”
Ethan slowly faced her.
“For the divorce?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Claire hesitated.
“My medical bills.”
Ethan stared.
She explained.
Her treatment had become complicated.
Experimental options.
Specialists outside their insurance network.
Potential transplant expenses.
Possible long-term cardiac care.
She had begun calculating what prolonged illness might do to their savings.
Ethan almost laughed from disbelief.
“We have money.”
“You have money.”
“We’re married.”
“That was exactly the problem.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If treatment failed, I didn’t want you spending everything we built trying to save me.”
“That was my decision.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that after making every decision for me.”
Claire looked away.
He immediately regretted the harshness.
But it was true.
She had tried to save him from grief by giving him a different kind of grief.
She had tried to protect his future by erasing herself from it.
Ethan sat again.
“Who sent the note?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about the donor?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“You said Nathan knew.”
“Yes.”
“Then we ask Nathan.”
Ethan called.
No answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Strange.
Nathan was notoriously responsive to physicians.
Ethan called his office.
His assistant answered.
“Dr. Vale isn’t here.”
“When will he return?”
A pause.
“Dr. Cole, I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He resigned yesterday.”
Ethan stood.
“What?”
“Effective immediately.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t told.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
The call ended.
Ethan looked at Claire.
Nathan had resigned the same day Claire was hospitalized.
That did not feel coincidental.
Ethan contacted administration.
Then transplant services.
Then medical records.
Slowly, another problem emerged.
Several entries in Claire’s treatment file were missing.
Not deleted.
Restricted.
Someone with high-level access had placed portions of the record behind an administrative confidentiality lock.
Nathan had that access.
But so did several senior physicians.
“Why would anyone lock these?”
Claire asked.
Ethan had no answer.
By afternoon, hospital counsel was involved.
Claire hated it.
“I don’t want an investigation.”
“This isn’t optional anymore.”
“I trusted Nathan.”
“So did I.”
Ethan stopped.
That was precisely why the situation frightened him.
At 4:20, Marcus entered carrying coffee.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
Marcus handed him a cup.
“How’s Claire?”
“Stable.”
“And you?”
“Ask me next year.”
Marcus sat.
Ethan told him about Nathan.
Marcus frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Exactly.”
“Nathan retiring, maybe. Resigning overnight?”
“Exactly.”
“And the donor?”
“Anonymous.”
Marcus looked toward Claire.
She was asleep.
“Could Nathan be the donor?”
Ethan froze.
He had not considered it.
Nathan was sixty-two.
Potentially eligible depending on health and donation type.
“Why anonymously?”
“Maybe because Claire would refuse.”
Ethan immediately understood.
Claire had spent seven months refusing to burden anyone.
If Nathan had offered directly, she might have rejected him.
Ethan contacted the coordinator again.
She could not confirm.
But one detail emerged.
The donor was male.
Older than Ethan.
Testing had begun shortly after Claire’s diagnosis.
Nathan became the obvious possibility.
That evening, Claire woke stronger.
Ethan explained.
She stared at him.
“Nathan wouldn’t.”
“He might.”
“Why?”
“Because he cares about you.”
Claire shook her head.
“There’s something else.”
Ethan sighed.
“Please stop saying that.”
Despite everything, Claire almost smiled.
Then she became serious.
“Years ago, before we met…”
Ethan waited.
“Nathan knew my mother.”
“How?”
“They worked together.”
Ethan remembered Claire’s mother had been a research nurse before retiring.
“They were close?”
“I think so.”
“How close?”
“I don’t know.”
“My mother never talked about that period.”
Ethan felt the puzzle shift again.
Before he could respond, Claire’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A text.
Ethan and Claire looked at each other.
She opened it.
Three words appeared.
Nathan is downstairs.
Another message arrived.
He knows everything.
May you like
Then a third.
But he isn’t your donor.
