Chapter 3
At the hospital, Claire was taken into emergency care.
The baby’s heartbeat was weak, but present.
I stood outside the operating room with bloodless hands and my father’s letter in my pocket.
A detective named Mara Holt arrived.
She had already seized the coffin.
The flowers.
The sedative vial found in my mother’s bathroom.
The fake funeral program printed without a date.
“You understand how serious this is?” she asked.
“My mother and brother tried to bury my wife alive.”
“Yes,” she said. “And we believe they planned to declare the baby dead too.”
I nearly collapsed.
Detective Holt steadied me.
“Stay with me.”
“How?”
“By breathing.”
I did.
Badly.
But I did.
An hour later, the doctor came out.
“Your wife is alive. Still unconscious. We had to deliver the baby.”
My world narrowed.
“A boy,” he said. “Small. Distressed. But alive.”
I covered my face.
My son was alive.
Claire was alive.
That was the first miracle.
The second came three hours later when Claire opened her eyes.
She could barely speak.
I took her hand.
“I’m here.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Baby?”
“He’s alive.”
She sobbed once.
Then panic returned.
“Safe?”
“Yes. NICU. Guarded.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“Evelyn?”
“Police have her.”
“Nathan?”
“Questioned.”
She closed her eyes.
“Safe.”
I leaned closer.
“What did you find?”
She swallowed.
“Your father knew. He hid proof. Evelyn killed Victor.”
My blood went cold.
“Victor is dead?”
“She said he died boating.”
Claire shook her head weakly.
“He didn’t. He wanted more money. Threatened her. Your father found evidence. Then Victor disappeared.”
I thought of my father’s letter.
The hidden files.
The fear in Evelyn’s face.
Claire whispered, “Nathan knows where.”
May you like
“Where what?”
“Where Victor is buried.”
