Chapter 7 - The Medicine That Was Meant for Someone Else
Vincent read the note three times.
“The first dose was never meant for Caroline.”
Ethan stood beside him.
“Boss, we need to understand what that means before confronting anyone.”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
Caroline's medicine case.
Her wedding ring.
A desk he'd sat behind countless times.
Somebody had arranged the objects in a room inside his own home.
“Check the office,” Vincent said.
Ethan nodded.
“And Vincent?”
“What?”
“Please don't go alone.”
Vincent almost argued.
Then he remembered Oliver's frightened face.
“Fine.”
The office was empty.
The desk looked exactly as it had that morning.
But when Ethan removed the lower drawer, he found scratches on the wooden rails.
The compartment had been opened recently.
Inside was a small square of white paper.
Vincent unfolded it.
A list of dates.
Beside each date was a number.
At the bottom, three initials appeared.
V.C.
Vincent Castellano.
Ethan studied the page.
“These dates go back to the months before Caroline died.”
Vincent recognized one immediately.
The day he'd collapsed at a charity dinner.
At the time, doctors had blamed exhaustion and dehydration.
Caroline had insisted something was wrong.
He'd brushed her off.
Now he remembered waking in the hospital and finding her crying beside his bed.
“She thought someone was poisoning me,” Vincent whispered.
Ethan looked up.
“What?”
“Caroline kept asking what I'd eaten. What I'd drunk. She wanted the doctors to run more tests.”
Ethan examined the numbers.
“They could be dosage amounts.”
Vincent sat heavily.
“Vale wasn't trying to kill Caroline first.”
“He was trying to weaken you.”
“Why?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Because if you became incapacitated, somebody else could control your companies.”
Vincent looked at the initials.
“Who?”
Ethan didn't answer.
But both men knew Richard Vale had spent years positioning himself as the family's most trusted adviser.
Madeline was still at the mansion under Vincent's instructions.
He found her in the sitting room, holding Daniel's broken watch.
When she saw him, she stood.
“Did you find my brother?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why are you here?”
Vincent placed the photograph of Caroline's medicine case on the table.
“Have you seen this?”
Madeline studied it.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
Vincent stiffened.
“Where?”
“In your office.”
“Who brought it?”
“Vale.”
Vincent stared.
Madeline sat down.
“He said he had something Caroline left behind.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That Caroline had been taking medication without telling you.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“And you believed him?”
“I didn't know what to believe.”
Madeline looked at the photograph.
“Vale said Caroline had discovered Daniel was alive and that she'd become obsessed with protecting him.”
Vincent waited.
“He told me she was emotionally unstable.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“Caroline was investigating him.”
“I know that now.”
Madeline looked ashamed.
“But I wanted to believe she was the problem.”
“Why?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because if Caroline was a good person, then I had spent years hating someone who tried to save my brother.”
Vincent said nothing.
Madeline wiped her face.
“I loved Daniel. After he died, or after I thought he died, there was nothing left of my family. Vale gave me answers. He gave me a purpose.”
“And what did he want in return?”
Madeline looked at him.
“You.”
Vincent stared.
“He encouraged me to meet you. He said if I became part of the Castellano family, I'd finally learn what happened to Daniel.”
“Did he tell you to marry me?”
She nodded.
Vincent stepped backward.
Their entire relationship suddenly looked different.
The chance meeting at a fundraiser.
The carefully timed conversations.
Madeline's interest in his businesses.
His grief.
His loneliness.
Vale had used all of it.
“Did you ever love me?” Vincent asked.
Madeline began to cry.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the first time I realized I loved you, I'd already lied about how we met.”
Vincent looked away.
He didn't know which part hurt more.
The manipulation.
Or the possibility that some of their happiness had been real.
Meanwhile, Grace received permission from Vincent to review Caroline's old correspondence with an independent investigator.
She discovered several handwritten notes in a recipe book Caroline had given her years earlier.
Most were ordinary family recipes.
But one page contained a list of ingredients arranged in a strange order.
Grace recognized the handwriting.
Caroline had used the same method when they secretly exchanged information at the hospital.
The first letter of each ingredient spelled a location.
GREENHOUSE.
Grace called Vincent.
He came to his sister's house immediately.
She showed him the recipe.
“Caroline loved the greenhouse,” Vincent said.
“She told me it was the one place in the mansion where she could think.”
“Why hide a message in a recipe?”
“Because she knew I kept every recipe she gave me.”
Vincent studied the page.
At the bottom, Caroline had written:
For Oliver, when he's old enough to understand why flowers need sunlight.
Vincent felt his throat tighten.
“She's still trying to tell us something.”
The greenhouse stood beyond the east garden.
Vincent hadn't entered it since Caroline's funeral.
Dust covered the shelves.
Dead vines hung from wooden frames.
But near the back wall, one ceramic planter looked recently moved.
Vincent lifted it.
Underneath was a small wooden box wrapped in waterproof cloth.
Inside lay a gold bracelet.
Not yellow fabric.
Gold.
Its chain was threaded through a faded yellow ribbon.
Attached to it was a tiny heart-shaped charm.
Vincent recognized it.
Caroline had worn that bracelet when Oliver was born.
He opened the charm.
Inside was a photograph of Caroline and Oliver.
Behind the photograph was a folded paper.
Vincent opened it carefully.
The message was written in Caroline's handwriting.
If anything happens to me, don't trust the medical report. The medication was changed. I saw who did it.
Vincent's hands shook.
Below the words was a date.
The day before Caroline died.
Then another sentence.
The person who changed it knew the truth about Daniel.
Vincent stared.
Madeline had known something about Daniel.
Vale had known everything.
But Caroline hadn't named either one.
At the bottom of the note was a drawing.
A small black cross.
Grace, standing beside Vincent, inhaled sharply.
“What is it?” he asked.
She pointed at the symbol.
“I've seen that before.”
“Where?”
“On the medication labels at St. Andrew's.”
Vincent looked at her.
“What did it mean?”
“It marked prescriptions prepared by one particular pharmacist.”
“Who?”
Grace hesitated.
“Mr. Castellano, that pharmacist was also the person who helped Vale control Daniel's treatment.”
Vincent's voice hardened.
“Name.”
Grace looked up.
“Dr. Leonard Price.”
Vincent remembered the name immediately.
Price had been Caroline's personal physician.
He'd signed her death certificate.
And he was still employed by the Castellano family's medical foundation.
The following afternoon, Vincent arranged a formal meeting with Price.
He brought an independent medical investigator and Ethan.
Price appeared calm when they entered.
“Vincent. It's been a long time.”
“Not long enough.”
Price frowned.
Vincent placed the bracelet on his desk.
“Do you recognize this?”
Price's face changed.
Only slightly.
But Vincent saw it.
“Caroline's bracelet,” Price said.
“Why would she hide it?”
“I couldn't possibly know.”
Vincent unfolded the note.
Price read it.
His hands began to tremble.
“Where did you find this?”
Vincent leaned forward.
“You're going to tell me what happened to my wife.”
Price looked toward the door.
Ethan moved in front of it.
Nobody threatened him.
Nobody needed to.
Price lowered himself into his chair.
“Caroline wasn't supposed to die.”
Vincent felt the room tilt.
“What?”
“The medication had been altered, but not the way you think.”
“Then explain.”
Price swallowed.
“Vale wanted you incapacitated. Caroline discovered the plan and switched the medication back.”
Vincent stared.
“Then why did she die?”
Price closed his eyes.
“Because somebody discovered what she'd done.”
“Who?”
Price opened a locked drawer and removed a small medical chart.
He slid it across the desk.
Vincent looked at the name printed at the top.
It wasn't Caroline's.
It wasn't his.
It was Oliver's.
May you like
Price whispered:
“The next patient was supposed to be your son.”
