Chapter 4 - THE DEATH THAT WASN'T NATURAL
Nathaniel had met Camille’s father only twice.
Dr. Alan Royce was seventy-one.
Retired.
Respected.
A neurologist who had spent decades treating wealthy families.
Nathaniel had never known Alan treated Sarah.
Camille did.
“You knew.”
She looked away.
Nathaniel’s voice hardened.
“You knew your father treated my wife.”
“Yes.”
“And never told me.”
“It wasn’t relevant.”
“My wife died under his care.”
“He consulted once.”
Nathaniel turned to David.
“You?”
David looked sick.
“I knew.”
Nathaniel laughed without humor.
“Wonderful.”
Clara remained on the phone.
Her breathing sounded weak.
Nathaniel forced himself to focus.
“Can you see anything?”
“Concrete walls.”
“Windows?”
“One.”
“What outside?”
“Trees.”
“Road noise?”
“No.”
Elias and security were tracing the signal.
Clara whispered:
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“I found old medical invoices in the ledger.”
Nathaniel’s pulse slowed.
Sarah Vaughn.
Payments to Alan Royce.
Then additional payments from Vaughn Capital accounts.
“Why would my company pay my wife’s doctor?”
Clara answered:
“They weren’t paying him for treatment.”
Nathaniel stared at David.
“What were they paying him for?”
Clara swallowed.
“To keep something quiet.”
Nathaniel felt cold.
“What?”
“I only saw part of the note.”
“Tell me.”
“It said Sarah discovered the offshore accounts.”
Everything stopped.
Sarah.
His wife.
She had been an attorney before stepping away from practice.
Smart.
Curious.
Impossible to intimidate.
Nine years earlier, she had asked Nathaniel strange questions about company audits.
Then she became sick.
Headaches.
Confusion.
Weakness.
Six months later, she died.
Nathaniel had spent years believing stress and an aggressive neurological disorder took her.
Now—
“Camille.”
She stared at him.
“No.”
He had not accused her yet.
That response was enough to make the room colder.
“Did your father kill Sarah?”
Camille shook her head violently.
“No.”
“Did he poison her?”
“No!”
David stood.
“Nathaniel, stop.”
“Sit down.”
David did.
Nathaniel looked at Camille.
“Why was he paid?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thirty-two million dollars moved through your brother’s companies.”
“I didn’t know about that.”
“But you received money.”
She looked away.
“What did you think it was?”
“Family money.”
“From where?”
Silence.
Nathaniel’s phone buzzed.
Security had a location.
A hunting property owned by Royce Holdings forty miles north.
Nathaniel was already moving.
Camille grabbed his arm.
He looked down.
She released him.
“If you go there, my father will know.”
Nathaniel stopped.
That sentence told him more than she intended.
“You know he has Clara.”
Camille’s face collapsed.
“No.”
“You know enough.”
“I only knew David was supposed to scare her.”
Clara heard.
Nathaniel went completely still.
“What did you just say?”
Camille covered her mouth.
David cursed.
Nathaniel looked at him.
“You ordered this?”
David shook his head.
“Dad did.”
The truth landed.
Camille knew Clara was supposed to be frightened.
David knew she was taken.
Alan Royce ordered it.
Nathaniel left without another word.
At the hunting property, security found Clara in a locked basement room.
Alive.
Drugged.
Bruised.
Nathaniel knelt beside her.
“Clara.”
Her eyes opened.
“You came.”
“Yes.”
She tried to sit.
He stopped himself from touching her until she nodded.
Then helped.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“Your wife.”
His throat tightened.
“You did nothing.”
Clara looked at him.
“No.”
She reached inside her sweater and pulled out a folded page she had hidden.
“I found this before they took me.”
Nathaniel unfolded it.
Sarah’s handwriting.
One sentence.
IF I DIE, ALAN ROYCE DIDN’T DO IT ALONE.
Below it:
May you like
ASK ELIAS.
Nathaniel stopped breathing.
