Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN I CHOSE OVER MY WIFE
Vanessa's plane never reached Maine.
It landed in Boston.
She rented a car.
Then vanished.
Every security team I controlled began searching.
For the first time, I called the FBI.
I gave them everything.
The financial records.
The altered medication.
Lauren Pike.
Vanessa.
My own affair.
Everything.
There was no company reputation worth protecting anymore.
There was only Grace.
At 4:12 p.m., my phone rang.
Private number.
Vanessa.
“Richard.”
“Where are you?”
“You sound angry.”
“If you go near Grace—”
“What? You'll destroy me?”
Her laugh sounded broken.
“You already did.”
“You poisoned her?”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
“I didn't know she'd miscarry.”
The world stopped.
“Vanessa.”
“I didn't.”
My hand shook around the phone.
“What did you do?”
“I told Lauren to switch the vitamins.”
“You killed my child.”
“No!”
Her voice cracked.
“I was told it would only make Grace sick. Enough to scare her. Enough that she'd stop trying for a baby.”
I could barely breathe.
“Who told you?”
“You think I planned all of this?”
“You paid Lauren.”
“I transferred the money because someone told me Grace was investigating the accounts.”
“Who?”
She started crying.
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because he'll kill me.”
“He?”
Silence.
That single pronoun mattered.
“Who is he?”
A noise sounded behind her.
Vanessa gasped.
Then the line disconnected.
We traced the call to a motel outside Portsmouth.
Police arrived twelve minutes later.
The room was empty.
But there was blood on the sink.
And Vanessa's phone on the floor.
She had recorded another message before disappearing.
Not for me.
For Grace.
“I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting my future. I thought Richard was going to leave you. I believed what he told me.”
I stared.
I had never told Vanessa I would leave Grace.
Then Vanessa continued.
“He said you were trying to steal the company through the baby. He said making you sick would protect Richard.”
“He.”
Again.
“He gave me the pills. I gave them to Lauren. I didn't know what they really were.”
Then came a name.
“Grace, if something happens to me, don't trust—”
The audio cut.
Corrupted.
Marcus tried recovery.
Nothing.
I slammed my hand against the desk.
“There has to be something.”
“We're working on it.”
Then Jonathan entered.
He held an envelope.
“This arrived for you.”
No return address.
Inside was another ultrasound photograph.
Not the one Grace had left.
A later scan.
Twelve weeks.
I stared.
“That isn't possible.”
The miscarriage happened around eleven weeks.
The date printed on this image was six days after Grace's hospitalization.
My hands began shaking.
“Marcus.”
He leaned closer.
The patient name read:
GRACE HAYES.
I couldn't breathe.
Had the hospital lied?
Had Grace?
Then I noticed something in the lower corner.
TWIN A.
I turned the photograph over.
Another image had been taped behind it.
TWIN B.
May you like
Grace hadn't been carrying one baby.
She had been carrying two.
