Chapter 4: The Doctor Who Refused to Sign
By sunrise, the mansion had become a crime scene in my mind.
Every hallway seemed to contain a secret.
Every locked door felt like a warning.
I had spent thirty-six years believing money could solve almost anything.
Now I was discovering that money had been the weapon used against my family.
James arrived at 6:30 a.m.
He was fifty-two, silver-haired, and usually calm enough to make a courtroom feel like a waiting room.
But when I showed him the transfer record, his expression changed.
"Where did you get this?""
"Elise.""
He looked at her.
"Who are you?""
"Someone who worked with Isabella.""
"Before or after the birth?""
"Both.""
James examined the document.
"Dominic, this signature is authentic.""
"You're sure?""
"I've handled your mother's legal paperwork for eleven years. I know her signature.""
He placed the record on the desk.
"And this authorization is not a routine medical transfer.""
"What does it mean?""
"It means someone with legal authority approved moving a patient without ordinary family notification.""
"Could they do that?""
"Under certain circumstances, yes. But there should be supporting documentation.""
"Find it.""
James nodded.
"I'll contact the hospital.""
Elise shook her head.
"Don't.""
We both turned toward her.
"Why not?"" James asked.
"Because the people who handled Isabella's transfer may still work there.""
James frowned.
"That's a serious allegation.""
"I know.""
"Do you have proof?""
Elise reached into her bag and pulled out a small black notebook.
"Isabella gave me this.""
I opened it.
Inside were handwritten notes, dates, and phone numbers.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Dr. Samuel Whitmore.
Another appeared only once.
Dr. Helen Mercer.
"Who is she?"" I asked.
"Isabella's obstetrician," Elise replied.
"She's dead," James said.
Elise nodded.
"That's what I was told.""
I looked up.
"What do you mean?""
"Three weeks after Isabella was transferred, I called her office. Her receptionist said she had died in a car accident.""
James took the notebook.
"Where?""
"Outside Hartford.""
He checked his phone.
"Give me a minute.""
He walked into the hallway.
I turned toward Elise.
"Why didn't you tell me all of this before?""
She looked down.
"Because I was afraid.""
"Of my mother?""
"Of what she could do to me.""
I stared at her.
"You've been working in my house for twelve days. You watched my daughters while knowing my wife might be alive. Why?""
Elise's eyes filled.
"Because Isabella asked me to.""
She took a breath.
"She told me that if she couldn't come home, I should find a way to stay near the girls. She believed your mother would try to separate them from anyone who knew the truth.""
I thought of the five nannies who had quit.
"Did my mother scare the others away?""
Elise hesitated.
"She visited the nursery every night during my first week.""
I frowned.
"What?""
"She told me the girls were not to be held unless necessary. She said they needed to become independent.""
My stomach tightened.
"That's ridiculous.""
"She also told me not to sing to them.""
"Why?""
Elise looked at the cribs.
"Because Isabella used to sing the same song every night.""
I remembered it.
A little lullaby Isabella had learned from her grandmother.
My mother hated it.
She said it was old-fashioned.
I had always thought that was a harmless preference.
Now I wondered whether she hated the song because it reminded her of something she had tried to erase.
James returned.
"There's a problem.""
"What?""
"Dr. Mercer didn't die.""
Elise stood.
"What?""
"Her death certificate was issued under a different name. The accident report lists an unidentified female driver, but the hospital's former records clerk says Dr. Mercer was seen alive two months later.""
"Where?""
James looked at his phone.
"A small medical center in Vermont.""
I stepped toward him.
"Find her.""
"I'm trying.""
"James, I don't care what it costs.""
He looked at me.
"Dominic, this is bigger than money.""
"I know.""
"No, you don't. If someone falsified medical records and manipulated a death certificate, we're dealing with potential criminal conduct. We need to be careful.""
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID showed my mother's number.
I answered.
"Dominic," Victoria said, her voice strangely cheerful.
"Have you had breakfast?""
I looked at James.
"What do you want?""
"To make peace.""
"Then tell me where Isabella is.""
A pause.
"You're still obsessed with that nonsense.""
"Where is she?""
"Your daughters need stability. I've arranged for a specialist to evaluate them.""
I frowned.
"What specialist?""
"Dr. Whitmore.""
The room seemed to tilt.
"He's dead.""
"Don't be dramatic. He's perfectly capable of helping the girls.""
I gripped the phone.
"How do you know him?""
"Your father trusted him.""
"That's not an answer.""
Victoria sighed.
"Dominic, you have until noon to reconsider the guardianship arrangement. After that, my attorney will seek an emergency hearing.""
"Good luck.""
"Don't be foolish. You don't want people examining the circumstances surrounding Isabella's death.""
My voice dropped.
"Why? Because they'll find out she wasn't dead?""
Silence.
Then my mother said something I would never forget.
"She was alive when I left her.""
I stopped breathing.
"What?""
"Dominic—"
"You just admitted it.""
"I said nothing of the kind.""
"You said she was alive when you left her.""
"I misspoke.""
"Where did you leave her?""
My mother ended the call.
I stood frozen.
James slowly lowered his phone.
"Did she just—"
"Yes.""
He looked at me.
"That may be enough to get a warrant for her communications.""
I shook my head.
"No. It's not enough.""
I looked at Elise.
"She said she was alive when she left her.""
Elise nodded.
"Then we need to find out where she went.""
James checked his messages.
"There's something else.""
He showed me an email.
It was from a former employee at the rehabilitation center listed on the transfer record.
The subject line read:
*Patient Evelyn Hart — archived admission photograph.*
The email contained one attachment.
I opened it.
A photograph showed a woman lying in a hospital bed.
Her face was partially obscured by a bandage.
But I recognized her wedding ring.
I had chosen that ring myself.
My hands began to shake.
"Isabella.""
James leaned closer.
The photograph was dated four months earlier.
The same month my daughters were born.
I stared at the image.
Then I noticed something written beneath the photograph.
*Discharged to family representative: Victoria Caruso.*
I looked at James.
"Get me the discharge records.""
He nodded.
A second email arrived before he could move.
It contained a scanned document.
The final page had a signature.
Victoria Caruso.
And beneath it was a sentence that made the room go silent.
*Patient's identity and location must remain confidential until the children are legally transferred to the designated guardian.*
I read it again.
Then again.
My mother hadn't hidden Isabella simply to keep her away from me.
She had been waiting for something.
The transfer of my daughters.
And the designated guardian wasn't Victoria.
May you like
It was a name I had never seen before.
*Eleanor Whitmore.*
