Chapter 5 - The Mistress Who Knew Too Much
Sabrina had seen the envelope.
That did not prove she knew what was inside it.
Rebecca reminded me of that six times.
Naomi reminded me once.
I did not need a seventh.
I wanted answers.
Sabrina refused my calls.
Grant claimed he had no idea why she had been near the medication room.
According to him, Sabrina had visited the hospital because she was concerned about me.
That almost made Naomi throw my phone through a window.
“Concerned?”
“She was sleeping with your husband.”
“I noticed.”
“She came to support you?”
“Apparently.”
Naomi paced.
“I dislike her more every minute.”
“You’ve never liked her.”
“I was ahead of the evidence.”
Rebecca arranged for the photograph to be delivered to detectives.
The unknown number could not be traced easily.
Whoever sent it used an encrypted messaging service.
Then Caroline finally spoke.
Her confession came four days later.
Vivian Whitmore had paid her $250,000.
Not to kill me.
At least, not according to Caroline.
The plan had been to administer a medication dose that would create a temporary medical emergency.
A serious one.
Enough to keep me unconscious through Friday’s Hart Biomedical vote.
Caroline claimed Vivian specifically told her I would be monitored closely and would recover.
It was insane.
Criminal.
And catastrophically reckless.
The dose interacted with a complication no one had predicted.
I hemorrhaged.
My heart stopped.
Caroline panicked.
She fled.
“Vivian wanted me incapacitated for the board vote,” I said.
Rebecca nodded.
“That’s Caroline’s statement.”
“And Grant wanted my voting rights.”
“Yes.”
“So tell me again why he hasn’t been arrested.”
“Because Caroline claims Vivian never mentioned Grant.”
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
Naomi opened her laptop.
“What about the forged document?”
Rebecca’s expression changed.
“The notary flipped.”
Darren Cole had admitted he never witnessed my signature.
He claimed the document came from Grant’s corporate legal department already signed.
Grant had told him I executed it privately and asked Darren to notarize after the fact.
“That’s illegal,” I said.
“Extremely.”
“Did Grant forge it?”
“Darren says no.”
“Then who?”
“We’re tracing document metadata.”
The board vote had been delayed because of the criminal investigation.
Hart Biomedical remained mine.
That mattered more than I expected.
My father had started the company in a garage when I was six.
He sold our first house to keep it alive.
When I was twelve, he brought me to the lab and showed me a prototype cardiac monitoring device.
“Companies are just buildings and paperwork,” he told me. “What matters is whether the work helps someone.”
His technology eventually helped millions.
Grant saw Hart Biomedical as an asset.
I saw my father.
That difference had always existed between us.
I simply had not understood how dangerous it would become.
A week after giving birth, I was discharged.
Naomi took me to our mother’s home instead of Grant’s penthouse.
Emma and Sophie came with us.
Grant objected.
Rebecca reminded him there was no custody order requiring otherwise.
He backed down.
For three days.
On the fourth, he filed for emergency temporary custody.
His petition claimed my recent cardiac arrest, hospitalization, medications, and emotional trauma made me unable to care safely for newborn twins.
When Rebecca told me, I nearly dropped Sophie.
“He did what?”
“He wants temporary primary custody.”
“He tried to steal my company while I was unconscious.”
“He’s not mentioning that.”
“He was sleeping with Sabrina.”
“Family court doesn’t award custody based on fidelity.”
“He signed divorce papers while I was dying.”
“That matters morally more than legally.”
“So he gets to use my near-death against me?”
Rebecca’s eyes hardened.
“No.”
That single word calmed me.
“He gets to try.”
The custody hearing was scheduled for Monday.
Grant hired three experts.
I had Dr. Bennett.
He had a private child-development specialist.
I had Mia.
He had reputation.
I had evidence.
But then his attorneys produced something we were not expecting.
A psychiatric consultation supposedly performed at the hospital two days after I woke up.
The report stated I had demonstrated paranoia, impaired judgment, and “possible postpartum psychosis.”
I had never met the psychiatrist whose name appeared on it.
Rebecca stared at the document.
“Another forgery?”
Naomi shook her head.
“The doctor exists.”
“Did she evaluate me?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I called her office.”
Rebecca looked up.
“And?”
“She’s been in Europe for three weeks.”
Silence.
Naomi tapped the signature.
“This report was submitted through a Whitmore Holdings insurance portal.”
Rebecca leaned back.
“Someone is very committed to making Evelyn look incompetent.”
I thought of Vivian.
Of Grant.
Of Sabrina.
“How many people are trying to destroy me?”
Rebecca closed the file.
“We only need to prove one person manufactured this.”
The next morning, Sabrina requested a meeting.
Not with Grant.
With me.
Rebecca wanted to refuse.
I agreed.
We met in a conference room at Rebecca’s office.
Sabrina entered alone.
No dramatic entrance.
No expensive smile.
She looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Naomi almost laughed.
I raised one hand.
“Why were you at the hospital?”
Sabrina sat across from me.
“Grant asked me to come.”
“He said you came because you were concerned.”
“That’s not why.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted the divorce filed electronically before the day ended.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Why did your presence matter?”
“I had access to Whitmore’s executive legal system.”
I stared.
“You helped file it?”
“Yes.”
“At the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“While I was dying?”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
At least she did not lie.
“Did you know about Vivian and Caroline?”
“I knew Vivian was planning something.”
“What?”
“To keep you from voting Friday.”
My blood chilled.
“Did you know she planned to drug me?”
“No.”
“Then what did you think she was doing?”
“She told me she had arranged a medical certification that would temporarily transfer your voting rights to Grant.”
“The forged document.”
Sabrina looked at Rebecca.
“So you found it.”
“Who forged my signature?”
She hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Naomi leaned forward.
“You’re lying.”
Sabrina looked at me.
“I know who ordered it.”
The room went silent.
“Who?”
“Vivian.”
I shook my head.
“Grant said he asked legal to prepare the transfer.”
“He did.”
“So he knew.”
“He knew about the document. I don’t think he knew the signature was forged.”
“You don’t think?”
Sabrina’s eyes dropped.
“Grant cared about the merger more than anything.”
“More than me?”
She did not answer.
“More than his daughters?”
Still nothing.
That was answer enough.
Rebecca asked, “Why are you telling us this?”
Sabrina laughed bitterly.
“Because Grant ended things.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“This morning.”
I should have felt satisfaction.
I felt nothing.
“He said our relationship had destroyed his family.”
Naomi scoffed.
“How observant.”
Sabrina looked at me.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Yes, I did.”
Then she reached into her bag.
Rebecca immediately straightened.
Sabrina removed a flash drive.
“I copied this before Whitmore security locked me out.”
“What is it?”
“Emails. Internal messages. Legal drafts.”
“From Grant?”
“Some.”
“From Vivian?”
“More.”
Rebecca did not touch the drive.
“Why should we trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
For the first time, Sabrina sounded completely honest.
“But you should verify everything on it.”
Naomi took the drive using a tissue and placed it into an evidence bag Rebecca provided.
Sabrina stood.
Before leaving, she turned to me.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“The custody case.”
My chest tightened.
“What about it?”
“Grant didn’t want to file.”
“Then why did he?”
“Vivian convinced him you were going to disappear with the twins.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“Did she create the fake psychiatric report?”
“I don’t know.”
She walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“But I saw the name of the person who uploaded it.”
Rebecca stood.
“Who?”
Sabrina looked directly at me.
“It wasn’t Vivian.”
She said the name.
May you like
I stopped breathing.
Because the person who uploaded the fake report was someone who had been sitting beside my hospital bed the night I woke up.
