Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN HIS FILE
“Celeste Harrington,” I repeated.
Damian stared at the nurse's clipboard.
“I haven't spoken to Celeste in years.”
“Then why is her name in my son's medical file?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I'm not.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that the man standing beside me was simply a father who had learned about his children too late.
But his face had changed when he heard Celeste's name.
That mattered.
The nurse checked the screen again.
“The contact information appears to have been entered during Evan's referral appointment three weeks ago.”
“That's impossible,” I said. “I filled out every form myself.”
“Someone may have updated the file electronically.”
Damian looked at the nurse.
“Who has access to these records?”
“Authorized clinical staff, the referring practice, and approved administrative personnel. I can request an audit.”
“Please do.”
I caught his arm before he could say anything else.
“You don't get to start giving orders.”
He looked down at my hand.
Then he stepped back.
“You're right. I'm sorry.”
The apology was so immediate that it left me with nowhere to put my anger.
The nurse promised to investigate and returned to the station.
I turned toward Damian.
“Tell me who Celeste is.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“She was a family friend. Her father invested in Cross Atlantic when the company was struggling. Our families expected us to marry.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“But you were photographed together.”
“At business events.”
“And your mother showed me those photographs the day after I told her I was pregnant.”
His head lifted.
“She knew?”
“She knew I was pregnant. She wanted me to disappear. She told me you had moved on.”
Damian's expression darkened.
“She told me you had already moved on.”
We stared at each other.
Two people who had spent five years believing the other had made the choice to leave.
A small, ugly thought began taking shape.
“What if she lied to both of us?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The elevator doors opened again, and a man in a navy suit stepped out. He was in his late forties, with silver at his temples and the self-assured expression of someone accustomed to delivering unpleasant news on behalf of wealthy people.
“Damian.”
Damian turned.
“Richard.”
The man glanced at me.
“Claire. I wasn't expecting you.”
I recognized him then.
Richard Bell, the Cross family attorney. He had handled the final paperwork for our divorce.
I felt my pulse jump.
“Did you prepare my divorce agreement?”
He adjusted his cuff.
“I supervised the legal process.”
“Did I sign it?”
His expression shifted.
“Claire, this isn't the appropriate place to discuss legal matters.”
“Did I sign it?”
Damian stepped closer.
“Richard. Answer her.”
The attorney's jaw tightened.
“There was a document bearing her signature.”
“That wasn't my question,” I said.
He looked at Damian, then back at me.
“The agreement was submitted by your former representative.”
“I didn't have a representative.”
“That's not what our file indicates.”
I stared at him.
“Then your file is wrong.”
Richard lowered his voice.
“I'm sure we can resolve this privately.”
“Did you see me sign it?”
A long pause.
“No.”
The answer landed like a stone.
Damian's face turned frighteningly still.
“Who witnessed it?”
Richard hesitated.
“Vivian arranged the signing.”
“Of course she did,” Damian muttered.
“Damian, I advise you not to make assumptions.”
“I'm not making assumptions. I'm asking why my mother arranged a legal document in my wife's name without my wife's attorney present.”
“Your mother was trying to protect the family.”
“From what?”
Richard's gaze flicked toward me.
“From a situation that could have become considerably more complicated.”
I took a step toward him.
“Say it.”
“Claire—”
“Say what you think I did.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“I was told you were threatening to use a pregnancy to force Damian into changing the divorce settlement.”
“I wasn't threatening him. I was trying to tell him I was having his children.”
Richard said nothing.
For the first time, he looked ashamed.
Damian's phone began vibrating.
He checked the screen and rejected the call.
It rang again.
This time, he answered.
“Mother.”
Vivian's voice was loud enough that I could hear it.
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“I told you not to make a scene.”
“You forged Claire's signature.”
A silence followed.
Then Vivian said, “Be careful what you accuse me of.”
“Did you arrange the divorce agreement?”
“I arranged for the lawyers to complete a process you both wanted.”
“She didn't sign it.”
“She was represented.”
“By whom?”
“Damian, don't do this over the phone.”
He looked at me.
Then he said, “I'm going to do it wherever I have to.”
He ended the call.
Richard stepped forward.
“You need to understand that this could affect the company. If the divorce agreement is challenged, every associated financial transaction could be reviewed.”
“Then review it,” Damian said.
“Your mother's position—”
“Is not more important than my children.”
The words echoed down the corridor.
Richard stared at him.
Then he walked away without another word.
I sat down because my knees were shaking again.
Damian remained standing.
“I should have asked more questions,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I should have called you.”
“Yes.”
“I should have come to your apartment.”
“Yes.”
He nodded, accepting every answer.
“I can't change what I did.”
“No.”
“But I can stop letting them tell me what happened.”
I looked up at him.
“What about Celeste?”
His expression changed.
“Three months before our divorce, my father asked me to meet her privately. He said her family was considering a major investment in the company. Celeste told me she had information about a financial arrangement involving my mother.”
“What kind of arrangement?”
“I don't know. She said she'd explain after I agreed to meet her again. I refused.”
“And then?”
“Two days later, my mother told me you'd been seeing someone.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She showed me a photograph of you leaving a hotel.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“I never went to a hotel with another man.”
“I know that now.”
“No, you don't. You only know what I told you five minutes ago.”
He looked down.
“You're right.”
A nurse appeared at the far end of the corridor.
“Mrs. Bennett? Mr. Cross? The surgeon would like to speak with you.”
I was on my feet before she finished.
Dr. Patel met us in a consultation room.
“Evan is stable at the moment,” he said. “We have completed the initial repair, but we need to monitor his response very closely over the next several hours.”
“Can I see him?” I asked.
“Soon. He's still under anesthesia.”
I pressed a hand to my chest.
“Thank you.”
The doctor nodded.
Then he glanced at Damian.
“One other thing. Our records department has flagged a medication order entered under Dr. Nolan's credentials. The order appears to have changed Evan's dosage shortly before his deterioration.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“It may be a clerical error. We won't know until we review the audit trail.”
Damian's voice became cold.
“Who entered the order?”
“The record shows that it originated from an administrative terminal associated with the Cross Children's Cardiac Foundation.”
I looked at Damian.
His foundation had funded the hospital's pediatric cardiac program for years.
“You sponsor this department?”
“Yes,” he said slowly.
The doctor continued.
“We'll need to investigate before we can determine whether the change contributed to Evan's condition.”
When the doctor left, I turned to Damian.
“Someone connected to your company altered my son's medical record.”
“I'll find out who.”
“And if the answer leads to your mother?”
His jaw tightened.
“Then I'll find out why.”
I wanted to believe him.
But when I stepped into the recovery room and saw Evan lying beneath a blanket of wires, I noticed something beside his hospital bracelet.
A folded piece of paper.
It had not been there when the nurse wheeled him away.
I opened it with shaking fingers.
There were only eight words.
Ask Damian what happened to his father's heart.
I read it twice.
May you like
Then I looked through the glass at my ex-husband.
For the first time since he had arrived, I was no longer sure he was the only person in the Cross family who had been kept in the dark.
