Chapter 6 - The Ghost of the Past
The sterile smell of the hospital room seemed to suffocate us all as Vivienne’s words hung in the air like a physical weight. My mother, Florence, didn’t flinch. She simply adjusted the collar of her dark wool coat with fingers that didn’t tremble in the slightest. Decades of practiced aristocratic composure shielded her from my scorching glare.
"You are raving, Vivienne," Florence said smoothly, her voice dropping into a patronizing register that used to silence me when I was a child. "The lack of oxygen inside that box has clearly disordered your mind. Conspiring with a beggar woman to fabricate wild conspiracy theories about family finances is quite frankly beneath you."
"It’s not a theory, Florence," a sharp, new voice rang out from the doorway.
We all turned. Dr. Vance stood in the entrance, holding a secure tablet device. Behind her stood two uniformed local police officers, their hands resting casually on their utility belts.
"Mr. Pendelton," the lead officer said, stepping past Dr. Vance. "I’m Detective Miller, Cedar Rapids PD. We received an automated alert regarding the suspicious circumstances surrounding your wife's revival, and Dr. Vance has already briefed us on the toxicology report. We also received a frantic call from an elderly woman named Maeve Higgins, who claims she was assaulted outside the cemetery gates thirty minutes ago."
My blood ran cold. "Assaulted? By whom?"
"By two men wearing corporate security uniforms for Pendelton Enterprises," Detective Miller stated firmly, his eyes locking onto Mason, who flinched and looked away. "They tried to confiscate her bag and force her into an unmarked van. Fortunately, local patrol units intercepted them. Maeve Higgins is currently being brought to this hospital under police protection. And she brought the original paper trail with her."
Brenda, who had finally crept back into the room behind Paige, let out a sharp, hysterical laugh.
"This is insane! A homeless woman and a delirious patient are orchestrating a coordinated attack on our family name! Conrad, you can't possibly believe this garbage over your own mother and your brother!" Brenda shrieked, her mascara running down her cheeks in dark streaks.
I walked slowly toward Brenda. Every step I took felt like walking across broken glass. Twenty-two years of marriage, twenty years of corporate loyalty, a lifetime of believing I understood the people who shared my blood and my home—it was all a carefully constructed theater of deceit.
"Brenda," I said quietly, stopping right in front of her. "You authorized the wire transfer to Dr. Albright. You managed the clinic's administrative interface. And now you're panicking because you know that when Maeve walks through those doors, the legal walls are going to cave in on all of you."
May you like
Before Brenda could formulate another denial, the elevator bell chimed down the hall, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps and authoritative voices.
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