Chapter 5 - The Price of Keeping a Daughter Desperate
“Eighty-four thousand dollars.”
Victor repeated the amount as though testing its weight.
Nina stood beside his desk holding her notebook.
“That's what Meridian Park says I owe.”
“And the same amount appears in your mother's research account?”
“Yes.”
Victor extended his hand.
“Give me the page.”
She placed the notebook in his palm.
He couldn't read it, but he ran his fingers along its edge.
“Gregor knew your mother was a patient.”
“He was listed as her family contact.”
“That doesn't mean your mother gave him permission.”
“I know.”
Nina sat down.
“There's something I don't understand. Why leave me with the debt? Why not just make the money disappear?”
Victor considered the question.
“Because a desperate person is easier to control.”
Nina looked at him.
“You think they wanted me desperate?”
“I think someone benefited from it.”
She shook her head.
“I was the one who reported the altered records. I was supposed to be fired and forgotten.”
“Maybe.”
“Then why would anyone arrange for me to end up here?”
Victor turned toward her.
“That,” he said, “is what worries me.”
The next morning, Nina received permission from Dr. Ellis to attend Victor's specialist consultation.
Dr. Samuel Price, an endocrinologist with extensive experience treating pituitary disorders, examined Victor and reviewed the new imaging.
He studied the changes in Victor's hands, facial features, and hormone results.
“The findings strongly suggest acromegaly caused by a pituitary macroadenoma,” he explained.
Victor listened carefully.
“Speak plainly, Doctor.”
“There's a tumor near the base of your brain. It appears to be producing excess growth hormone, which explains the enlargement of your hands and changes in your facial structure.”
“And the blindness?”
“The mass is pressing against the optic pathways. That pressure can severely damage vision.”
Nina leaned forward.
“Could relieving the pressure help?”
“Possibly. Some patients regain meaningful vision after treatment. But the longer the pressure has been present, the less predictable recovery becomes.”
Victor rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Fourteen months.”
Dr. Price nodded.
“I understand.”
“Would treatment fourteen months ago have offered me a better chance?”
“Earlier treatment generally offers a better opportunity to protect vision. I can't say what your individual outcome would have been.”
Victor looked toward Nina.
“That's the fourth doctor who has refused to promise me a miracle.”
“It's becoming a healthy pattern,” Nina answered.
He smiled faintly.
Price recommended prompt evaluation by a specialized pituitary surgeon.
The likely treatment would involve surgery through the nasal passages to relieve pressure and remove as much of the tumor as safely possible.
Victor agreed to a consultation.
Then he asked Nina to remain after the doctor left.
“You look upset.”
“I'm angry.”
“At me?”
“At the time you lost.”
Victor rested his hands on his knees.
“I've done many things I regret, Nina. But I never imagined I'd regret trusting my own doctor.”
She looked at him.
“You still have choices.”
He smiled bitterly.
“Do I?”
“Yes. And this time, nobody gets to make them for you.”
That afternoon, Nina contacted Meridian Park's patient billing department.
She requested an itemized statement for Margaret Brennan's care and asked whether the Harborlight research program had provided financial assistance.
The representative placed her on hold.
When she returned, her tone had changed.
“Miss Brennan, your account is under administrative review.”
“Since when?”
“This morning.”
“By whom?”
“I don't have that information.”
“Can you tell me why?”
“I'm sorry. You'll need to speak with compliance.”
Nina's stomach tightened.
Compliance meant Evelyn Marsh.
She ended the call.
A minute later, a notification appeared on her phone.
It was an electronic notice from the hospital's collections office.
Her remaining balance had been transferred to a new creditor.
The creditor's name was:
EAST HARBOR ASSET RECOVERY.
Nina recognized it from a folder Gregor had carried into Victor's study.
She walked directly to the main house.
Gregor was waiting beside the fireplace.
Victor had summoned him after learning that East Harbor was associated with a business investment account Gregor managed.
The adviser looked exhausted.
His tie hung loose, and his face was gray.
Nina placed the collection notice on the desk.
“Did you buy my mother's medical debt?”
Gregor said nothing.
“Answer her,” Victor ordered.
“Yes.”
Nina stared.
“You bought my debt?”
“East Harbor purchased a portfolio of hospital receivables.”
“I'm not a portfolio.”
Gregor looked down.
“I know.”
“You knew my mother was sick. You knew I was working nights to care for her. And you bought the bills I couldn't pay?”
“I was trying to keep that account out of someone else's hands.”
“By leaving me in collections?”
Gregor's eyes closed.
Victor's voice was dangerously calm.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the payments to Meridian Park weren't supposed to be traced back to the foundation.”
“Why?”
Gregor stood.
“Because the entire Harborlight project was built on false financial reporting.”
Nina felt cold.
Gregor continued.
“The hospital recorded private research donations as patient-support payments. Then executives redirected those funds through consulting contracts and outside vendors.”
“Who benefited?” Victor asked.
“Hospital executives. Contractors. Several donors who received tax advantages from inflated research expenditures.”
“And you?”
Gregor hesitated.
“Yes.”
Victor's face hardened.
“How much?”
“Enough to make me ashamed.”
“An amount, Gregor.”
“Just over six hundred thousand dollars in fees over three years.”
Nina felt sick.
Six hundred thousand dollars.
Her mother's care had cost eighty-four thousand.
“Did you know the patients weren't receiving the money?” she asked.
Gregor looked at her.
“Not when the program began.”
“But later?”
He nodded.
Nina stepped away.
She had spent years telling herself she should have worked harder.
Should have saved more.
Should have sold her car sooner.
And all that time, people with more money than they could spend had been treating her mother's care as a line on a balance sheet.
Victor pushed himself upright.
“You're finished managing my money.”
Gregor lowered his head.
“I understand.”
“You'll turn over every account, every authorization, and every record you've kept.”
“Yes.”
“And you'll answer questions under oath if that's what it takes.”
Gregor looked up.
“Victor, if I do that, Marsh will release the other files.”
“What other files?”
Gregor hesitated.
“The files she used to keep me cooperating.”
Victor's expression changed.
“About my businesses?”
“Some.”
“And?”
Gregor looked toward Nina.
“About your daughter.”
Victor stopped moving.
“What about Sofia?”
Gregor didn't answer.
Victor took a step forward.
“Gregor.”
“She was approached three years ago by people connected to Meridian Park. They told her they had proof you were using the foundation to launder money.”
Victor's face turned white.
“They threatened her?”
“They showed her financial records. Some were real. Some had been altered.”
“Why didn't she come to me?”
Gregor gave a broken laugh.
“Because she thought you'd kill whoever was responsible. And because she believed you were responsible for part of it.”
Victor gripped the desk.
Nina watched the realization settle over him.
His daughter's silence hadn't been simple rejection.
It had been fear.
That evening, Victor asked Anton to arrange a private meeting with Sofia.
No pressure.
No threats.
Just an invitation.
Nina was surprised.
“You're not going to call her yourself?”
Victor shook his head.
“She deserves the choice to refuse.”
He sat quietly for several minutes.
Then he asked Nina to read him a letter.
It was handwritten on thick cream paper.
Dad, I keep remembering the morning you promised you would come to my graduation ceremony.
I watched every person walk through the auditorium doors.
You never came.
You told me afterward that you had important business.
You always had important business.
Nina stopped.
Victor's face was expressionless.
“Continue.”
When Mom needed you, you sent money.
When I needed you, you sent someone else.
I don't want your gifts anymore.
Nina lowered the letter.
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Why didn't you go?”
Victor was silent.
Then he said, “My brother had been shot that morning. I was at the hospital.”
Nina looked at him.
“Did you tell Sofia?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought protecting her meant keeping her away from that life.”
“And what did she think?”
“That I didn't care.”
Nina folded the letter.
Victor whispered, “I let her believe that for fourteen years.”
Shortly before midnight, Anton returned from checking Gregor's former office.
He carried a sealed storage box.
Inside were accounting records, copies of hospital contracts, and several encrypted drives.
But one item had been placed carefully on top.
A small red velvet jewelry box.
Nina opened it.
Inside was a child's silver charm bracelet.
Three charms hung from the chain.
A star.
A little book.
And a heart engraved with the letter S.
Victor recognized the faint sound of the charms.
His expression changed.
“Sofia's bracelet.”
“Why would Gregor have this?”
Victor reached for it.
“I gave it to her on her tenth birthday.”
Anton stood beside the desk.
“There was a note underneath.”
Nina unfolded the paper.
It contained one sentence.
ASK SOFIA WHAT SHE SAW THROUGH THE HOSPITAL WINDOW THE NIGHT YOUR BROTHER DIED.
Victor's hand froze.
“My brother died fourteen years before she stopped speaking to me.”
Nina looked at the bracelet.
Sofia had been ten when she received it.
And Victor's brother had died when she was eighteen.
The note connected two events that should have had nothing to do with each other.
Then Victor whispered something that made Nina's blood run cold.
“My brother wasn't shot at the hospital.”
Nina turned toward him.
“He was shot before they brought him there.”
May you like
Victor's voice grew quieter.
“And the doctor who declared him dead was Adrian Sloane.”
