Chapter 4 - THE CHILD MY FATHER HID
The next morning, Raymond placed an old file on my desk.
“Your father kept this sealed.”
I opened it.
The first page contained a birth certificate.
The name had been blacked out.
The second page contained medical records.
The third contained adoption papers.
Then I saw the mother's name.
Evelyn Hayes.
Samantha's mother.
I stared at Raymond.
“Why would my father be involved?”
“We don't know.”
I kept reading.
The child had been born twenty-eight years ago.
Female.
Premature.
Transferred to a private hospital.
Then the records stopped.
But there was another document.
A trust.
Created by my father.
For the child.
I whispered,
“Who was she?”
Raymond looked at me.
“We believe it was Samantha.”
I shook my head.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“Why?”
“Because my father knew Samantha's family.”
“Yes.”
“But he treated her like an enemy.”
Raymond said nothing.
I read the next page.
My father had provided medical expenses for Samantha until she turned eighteen.
Then payments stopped.
Why?
Because another person had assumed responsibility.
The name made my stomach drop.
Victor Fairchild.
Brendan's uncle.
I looked up.
“Victor raised her?”
“Not exactly.”
“What then?”
“He financed her education.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
I leaned back.
Suddenly everything felt connected.
Victor.
Samantha.
The Fairchild Group.
My father.
The hidden trust.
And Brendan.
Then my phone rang.
An unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice said,
“You're looking in the wrong place.”
“Who is this?”
“You think Samantha is the threat.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone who knows what happened to Chloe.”
My blood turned cold.
“What did you say?”
The call ended.
I immediately called the number back.
Disconnected.
I stood.
“Raymond.”
He entered.
I told him.
His face hardened.
“Don't speak to anyone else about Chloe.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever called you knows something.”
“About her death?”
“Possibly.”
I sat down.
“What are you not telling me?”
He hesitated.
Then he opened another file.
“Your daughter's medical records were altered.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Three pages are missing.”
“From the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Who removed them?”
“We're trying to find out.”
My hands began shaking.
“Raymond.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Someone interfered with Chloe's medical care.”
He nodded slowly.
“We believe so.”
The room went silent.
For three years, I had believed my daughter had died because her heart was too weak.
Now someone was suggesting that her final days might have been manipulated.
I couldn't breathe.
“Find out.”
“We will.”
“Find everyone.”
He nodded.
That afternoon, we contacted the hospital.
The hospital's legal department initially refused to cooperate.
Then Raymond mentioned my father's trust.
Their tone changed.
Within two hours, we received archived records.
There was one missing medication order.
Signed by a hospital administrator.
The order had been marked:
FAMILY FINANCIAL RESTRICTION.
I stared at the signature.
It belonged to Ximena.
But there was a problem.
Ximena didn't have authority to approve medical restrictions.
Only Brendan did.
I called him.
He answered immediately.
“What?”
“Did you authorize Chloe's medication restriction?”
Silence.
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you?”
“I don't remember.”
“You signed the policy.”
“That doesn't mean I knew every request.”
“You knew she needed it.”
“I was told it wasn't necessary.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
“Brendan.”
He finally said,
“Ximena handled those things.”
“Who instructed Ximena?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
His voice became angry.
“Don't accuse me of things you can't prove.”
I closed my eyes.
Then asked,
“Where were you the night Chloe died?”
“I told you.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You told me you were working.”
Silence.
“I checked.”
His breathing changed.
“You weren't working.”
“Nora—”
“You were at the Fairchild Club.”
No answer.
“With Samantha.”
Still no answer.
“And Victor.”
His silence told me everything.
I ended the call.
Then I looked at Raymond.
“Find out what happened that night.”
Hours later, we discovered something.
There had been a private meeting at the club.
Brendan.
Samantha.
Victor.
And Ximena.
The meeting began at 8:10 p.m.
Chloe's condition became critical at 8:22.
I had called Brendan at 8:25.
He ignored me.
At 8:31, the meeting ended.
At 8:42, Chloe died.
I stared at the timeline.
Then Raymond found one final detail.
At 8:27 p.m., someone at the club made a phone call.
The call lasted four minutes.
The number belonged to the hospital administrator.
I felt my stomach drop.
“Who called?”
Raymond looked at me.
“Brendan.”
I stared at the page.
My husband had known my daughter was dying.
He had been told.
And he had stayed at the meeting.
But there was worse.
The administrator had received one instruction.
Do not authorize any additional medication until the Fairchild office approves it.
I closed my eyes.
Chloe hadn't simply been forgotten.
She had been placed behind a financial decision.
And suddenly, I knew what my father had been trying to protect me from.
This wasn't about an affair.
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It was about power.
And somebody had been willing to gamble with my daughter's life to protect it.
