Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Red Dress
The door opened only a few inches.
I slid my phone beneath the blanket.
The blonde woman stepped inside.
Alone.
Up close, she looked younger than I had expected. Maybe twenty-eight. Her hair fell in soft waves over the shoulders of her red dress, and one hand remained protectively beneath her pregnant stomach.
She closed the door.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
I pretended to wake.
“Who are you?”
Her face changed.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“My name is Vanessa.”
I waited.
She glanced toward the hallway.
“I need to talk to you before Ethan comes back.”
That surprised me.
“You know my husband?”
Her eyes filled with something I could not identify.
“Yes.”
“How?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“He told me you were getting divorced.”
Of course he had.
“He said you’d been separated for almost a year. He said the pregnancy happened during one attempt to reconcile.”
I said nothing.
“He told me the baby was the only reason he was still helping you.”
My daughter moved beneath my hand.
Vanessa looked at my stomach and seemed ashamed.
“How far along are you?” I asked.
“Twenty-one weeks.”
Five months.
Exactly.
“And Ethan is the father?”
She nodded.
There it was.
The betrayal was real.
But something about Vanessa’s expression did not match the confident woman I had glimpsed earlier.
“Why are you here?”
Her lips trembled.
“Because I heard what he said.”
I stopped.
“You heard him?”
“To Dr. Hale.”
“Then why were you standing beside him?”
“Because I was afraid.”
She opened her purse.
For an instant I tensed.
She removed a small digital recorder.
“I started carrying this three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan changed.”
She placed the recorder on the bedside table.
“He started asking strange questions about life insurance. Guardianship. Your company. What would happen if something happened during childbirth.”
I stared at her.
“And you stayed with him?”
Her eyes dropped.
“I was stupid.”
“No. You were involved with a married man.”
She accepted that without argument.
“Yes.”
The answer took some of my anger away because she did not try to escape responsibility.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that means nothing right now.”
“It means very little.”
“I understand.”
She looked toward the door again.
“Tonight he told me you had a dangerous condition and Dr. Hale was being paid for an emergency private procedure.”
My throat tightened.
“He didn’t tell you what the money was for?”
“Not until I heard him say it.”
“And then?”
“I froze.”
That I understood better than I wanted to.
Vanessa pushed the recorder toward me.
“I recorded part of it.”
I stared at the device.
“Why give it to me?”
“Because whatever I’ve done to you, I won’t help him do this.”
I picked it up.
The recorder felt impossibly small for something that might save two lives.
“Does Ethan know?”
“No.”
“Does Hale?”
“No.”
“Who sent me the photograph?”
Vanessa went pale.
“What photograph?”
I showed her.
Her reaction was immediate.
“That’s not from tonight.”
“I know.”
She enlarged the image.
Then whispered, “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“That medical office closed three years ago.”
I looked at her.
“And I didn’t know Ethan three years ago.”
The room seemed to narrow around me.
The photograph was real.
The woman in it looked enough like Vanessa from a distance to fool me.
But when I zoomed in, I saw the difference.
Different jaw.
Different nose.
Different woman.
Ethan had been photographed with another pregnant blonde years earlier.
Before Vanessa.
Maybe even before my own pregnancy.
“You need to leave,” I said.
Vanessa looked hurt.
“Claire—”
“Not because I don’t believe you. Because if Ethan sees you here, he’ll know.”
Understanding flashed across her face.
She took the recorder back, slipped it into her purse, and headed toward the door.
“Wait.”
She turned.
“Can you send me the recording?”
“Yes.”
“Do it somewhere Ethan can’t see you.”
She nodded.
Then she left.
At 12:31, the file arrived.
I forwarded it to Margaret.
Then I sent another copy to Daniel.
No explanation.
Just one sentence.
If anything happens to me tonight, open this.
My contractions became stronger around one in the morning.
Sofia returned with the nursing supervisor, a stern woman named Helen Price.
They had quietly moved Dr. Hale away from my care without alerting him.
Officially, it was a staffing adjustment.
Unofficially, Helen had already contacted hospital security.
“We need law enforcement,” she said.
“I agree,” I answered. “But not yet.”
She frowned.
“Claire, this is not a television drama.”
“I know.”
“Then you understand how serious this is.”
“I do. And if Ethan realizes we know, he’ll deny everything and disappear.”
Helen studied me.
“You’re willing to keep pretending?”
“I’m willing to do whatever keeps my daughter safe.”
At 2:14 a.m., Margaret arrived.
She entered wearing jeans, a gray sweater, and the expression of a woman who had been awakened by a nightmare and decided to sue it.
Margaret was sixty-one and had known me since childhood.
She listened to the recording twice.
Then she removed her glasses.
“This is enough to call police.”
“I know.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because of the trust.”
She went still.
“You figured that out.”
“If I die, Ethan becomes guardian and controls my daughter’s shares.”
“Temporarily.”
“Temporarily is long enough.”
Margaret nodded.
“There’s something you don’t know.”
I hated those words already.
“What?”
“Your mother amended the trust six months before she died.”
I stared at her.
“She added a misconduct clause.”
“What does that mean?”
“If your death resulted from intentional wrongdoing by a beneficiary, guardian, spouse, or anyone acting for them, that person loses every financial and custodial benefit.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she instructed me not to unless the clause became relevant.”
“Well, Margaret, I think we’re there.”
For the first time that night, something close to satisfaction crossed her face.
“Yes. We are.”
She opened her briefcase.
There was another document.
“Your mother also named a successor guardian.”
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
My brother.
Relief almost made me cry.
“So Ethan gets nothing?”
“If this can be proved, nothing.”
That explained the money.
But not everything.
“Who was the woman in the photograph?”
Margaret looked at it.
Her expression changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Unknown number.”
She zoomed in.
Then she whispered a name.
“Laura.”
“Who?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Laura Mercer.”
“Should I know her?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Margaret.”
She closed her eyes.
“Laura worked for Bennett-Walker Holdings four years ago.”
“And?”
“She disappeared.”
A chill moved through me.
“Disappeared?”
“She resigned suddenly. Ethan told everyone she moved to Arizona.”
“Was she pregnant?”
Margaret looked at the photograph again.
“Yes.”
The silence became unbearable.
“What happened to her?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrated.
Another message from the unknown number.
This time there was an address.
Underneath it:
ASK DR. HALE WHAT HAPPENED TO LAURA MERCER.
Margaret and I looked at each other.
Then a third message arrived.
HE WAS HER DOCTOR TOO.
Before either of us could speak, footsteps stopped outside my room.
Ethan’s voice came through the door.
“Claire? Honey?”
Margaret grabbed her briefcase.
There was nowhere for her to hide.
May you like
The handle turned.
Ethan was coming inside.
