Chapter 3 - the name inside the black file
Vivian kept her hand on the file.
Julian remained between her and the door.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Vivian forced herself to speak calmly.
“Why did you have a file on my mother?”
Julian walked toward the desk.
“My father had files on hundreds of employees.”
“She never worked for your family.”
“You don’t know that.”
Vivian stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Julian reached for the folder.
She pulled it away.
“Answer me.”
His gaze hardened.
“Your mother worked at St. Catherine’s when she was younger.”
“She was an elementary school teacher.”
“After she left the hospital.”
Vivian felt the room tilt slightly.
“My mother never told me she worked in a hospital.”
“Perhaps she had reasons.”
“Why was she photographed?”
“Because she was questioned after Adrian’s accident.”
The word accident sounded different now that Vivian had seen the death certificate.
“What happened to him?”
“You know the story.”
“I know three different stories. You told me he drowned. Five minutes ago, that certificate said he died in a car fire. Which one is true?”
“The car went off a coastal road and caught fire near the water.”
“Was his body recovered?”
Julian did not answer.
Vivian looked down at the document.
The cause of death had been typed as severe trauma following a motor vehicle accident.
No identifying examination was listed.
No relative had signed the release.
The attending physician’s signature was difficult to read.
Vivian turned the page.
A photograph showed a young man lying in a hospital bed. His face was partly obscured by an oxygen mask, but the eyes were visible.
The left iris held a silver crescent.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
Patient transferred alive at 4:17 a.m.
Vivian looked up.
“You said he died at the scene.”
Julian snatched the file from her.
“That photograph proves nothing.”
“It says he was alive.”
“It could have been another patient.”
“With Adrian’s name on the bed?”
Julian placed the folder on the desk and closed it.
“You are carrying our child. This stress is not good for you.”
“Stop using the baby to silence me.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
He looked toward the windows.
“From the kind of history that destroys people.”
Vivian moved closer.
“Did my mother know Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“You kept her file in your private office.”
“It belonged to my father.”
“And now it belongs to you.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Adrian was reckless. He stole from the company. He threatened people. When he died, my father protected the family from scandal.”
“By changing the story?”
“By ending it.”
Vivian thought of the warning she had received.
Do not let the Vale family choose the embryo.
“Did you choose our embryo?”
The question came out more quietly than she intended.
Julian’s expression did not change, but his hand stopped moving.
“The clinic selected the healthiest embryo.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“We made the decision together.”
“I signed a consent form that listed both of us as the genetic parents.”
“And we are.”
Vivian watched his face.
“Then show me the original laboratory record.”
“I don’t carry medical files in my pocket.”
“You could request it.”
“So could you.”
“I tried.”
That was not entirely true. She had called the clinic that morning but disconnected before reaching a staff member.
Julian studied her.
“What did they tell you?”
Vivian realized he was asking for information rather than offering reassurance.
“They said the file was sealed.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Who did you speak to?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because patient records should not be discussed over the phone.”
“Julian, was your genetic material used?”
“Yes.”
He answered too quickly.
Vivian stepped back.
He came around the desk.
“You are frightened because of a strange note and an old family document. I understand that. But this suspicion is becoming unhealthy.”
“Do not call me unhealthy.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were about to.”
His phone vibrated.
He checked the screen, and Vivian saw the name Celeste.
Julian’s mother.
He answered.
“I found her,” he said.
Vivian froze.
A woman’s voice spoke sharply through the phone, too faint to understand.
Julian looked at Vivian.
“No, she didn’t see everything.”
He ended the call.
Vivian moved toward the door.
Julian caught her wrist.
He did not squeeze hard, but he did not release her.
“Where are you going?”
“To my sister’s house.”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“To anyone’s house that isn’t this one.”
“Vivian.”
“Let go.”
His fingers remained around her wrist for one more second.
Then he released her.
She walked out of the office without running.
At the bottom of the staircase, the new driver stood beside the entrance. Two security guards waited near the front doors.
Vivian understood immediately.
Julian had not merely installed cameras.
He had turned the estate into a controlled perimeter.
She went upstairs instead and locked herself in the bathroom.
Her phone showed no signal.
The house network had been disabled.
She searched through her handbag until she found an old emergency phone she kept for charity travel. It had little battery remaining, but one bar of reception appeared near the window.
Vivian called the number printed on the death certificate.
St. Catherine’s Medical Center answered.
She asked for the physician whose signature appeared at the bottom.
The receptionist took several minutes to search old records.
“Dr. Elias Hart still works here,” she finally said.
“Can you connect me to him?”
“May I ask what this concerns?”
Vivian looked toward the locked bathroom door.
“Tell him Helena Mercer’s daughter found Adrian Vale’s file.”
The receptionist became quiet.
“One moment.”
A man answered less than thirty seconds later.
“This is Dr. Hart.”
Vivian lowered her voice.
“My name is Vivian Vale.”
The silence on the line lasted so long that she wondered whether the call had failed.
Then Elias spoke.
“Where are you?”
“At the Vale estate.”
“Can Julian hear you?”
“No.”
“Listen carefully. Do not ask the household staff for help. Do not use a family vehicle. Take only what you can carry, and leave through the old greenhouse passage.”
Vivian stared at the bathroom door.
“How do you know there is a greenhouse passage?”
“Because your mother used it twenty-eight years ago.”
A knock sounded.
Julian’s voice came from the bedroom.
“Vivian, open the door.”
Elias continued.
“Your husband will tell you I am lying.”
“What happened to Adrian?”
The handle moved.
May you like
Elias’s answer was almost a whisper.
“Your mother saved his life.”
