Chapter 7 - THE WARNING NOBODY WANTED TO SEE
“I signed this.”
Adrian's voice sounded unfamiliar.
He stood in the east gallery holding the maintenance order.
Maren could see the moment his anger turned inward.
He had spent two days looking for the person responsible for his daughter's suffering.
Now his own name sat on the page.
“I approved clearing the corridor,” he said.
Rafe nodded.
“But that never meant removing a safety barrier.”
“Miss Ward said the repair had been completed.”
“Did you check?”
Rafe lowered his eyes.
“No, sir.”
Adrian folded the paper carefully.
“Then we both failed her.”
Maren had expected him to threaten Rafe.
Perhaps even strike him.
Instead, Adrian looked suddenly older than thirty-five.
“Get me the complete maintenance history,” he said. “And don't alter a single thing.”
That evening, Celia found Maren in the conservatory.
Iris was upstairs with Dr. Shah, and the house had become unusually quiet.
“You've accomplished quite a lot in forty-eight hours,” Celia said.
Maren continued arranging the picture books on a low shelf.
“I haven't accomplished anything.”
“Adrian no longer trusts his security chief. His household is questioning me. His daughter is being examined by strangers.”
“She's being evaluated by an independent doctor.”
Celia stepped closer.
“Do you think I don't love Iris?”
Maren turned.
“I don't know what you feel.”
Celia looked genuinely hurt.
“I was there when she screamed every night after the accident. I learned how to adjust her brace. I stayed awake when Adrian couldn't bear to enter her room.”
“Then why was her medication chart changed?”
Celia's expression tightened.
“Because she was suffering.”
“Did a doctor authorize the change?”
“I was trying to help her sleep.”
“That isn't the same answer.”
Celia sat on a bench.
For a moment, the polished woman from the ballroom disappeared.
“My younger brother spent years in rehabilitation after a serious illness,” she said quietly. “My family had money, but every doctor seemed to tell us something different. I hated watching him suffer.”
Maren listened.
“When Iris was injured, I thought I knew what she needed.”
“You thought you knew better than everyone?”
Celia looked down.
“Perhaps.”
Maren moved closer.
“You knew that red ribbon was on the gate.”
Celia's face changed.
“Who told you?”
“Iris remembered.”
Celia pressed a hand to her forehead.
“The gate repair was supposed to be finished that afternoon. I marked it because I didn't want anyone going near it.”
“Then someone removed your warning.”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed silent afterward.”
Celia's eyes filled.
“Do you understand what that night would have done to this family? Reporters were already investigating Adrian's business dealings. The clinic was struggling financially. There were contracts, employees, patients depending on us.”
Maren shook her head.
“You're talking about contracts. I'm talking about a child.”
“Everything isn't as simple as you think.”
“No,” Maren said. “But some things are.”
Celia rose.
“You have no idea what people in this family sacrifice.”
Maren touched her bracelet.
“My sister sacrificed her reputation trying to protect Iris.”
Celia looked at the silver chain.
For the first time, she seemed unable to find the right expression.
Then she walked away.
Later that evening, Adrian called Maren into the study.
He had spent hours reviewing charitable payments connected to Larkhaven, the rehabilitation clinic.
“Celia's family has controlled that clinic for twenty years,” he explained.
“I know.”
“I funded an expansion after Iris's accident. New therapy rooms. Additional pediatric staff.”
“That sounds like a good thing.”
“It would have been.”
He turned a financial summary toward her.
Several payments had been classified as intensive rehabilitation services for Iris.
But the dates matched weeks when Iris had remained at home.
Maren frowned.
“Were those visits provided here?”
“Not according to the household schedule.”
“Then where did the money go?”
“That's what I'm trying to determine.”
He showed her another record.
A large transfer had been made into a clinic support account under Celia's authority.
The same account appeared in the billing system linked to Tess's disputed signature.
Adrian rubbed his eyes.
“I trusted Celia because I thought she was the only person strong enough to manage everything.”
Maren looked toward Iris's photograph.
“Maybe she wanted you to need her.”
Adrian said nothing.
Then Maren noticed a small notation on the bottom of the financial record.
A complaint reference number.
Beside it were the initials T.A.
She pointed.
“That's Tess.”
Adrian turned the page.
The complaint had been marked withdrawn.
Its withdrawal date was eleven days after Tess's funeral.
Maren stared at the signature.
Someone had used her dead sister's name again.
And this time, they hadn't simply changed a medication record.
They had erased a formal complaint.
Adrian looked at the account attached to the withdrawal.
Then his expression changed.
May you like
Because the person who approved it wasn't an ordinary clinic employee.
It was Celia Ward herself.
