Chapter 3 - The Miscarriage Nobody Investigated
For one terrible moment, I forgot how to breathe.
My first baby's death.
The words echoed through the hallway.
I remembered the night I'd miscarried.
The pain.
The blood.
The desperate drive to the hospital.
The way I'd kept calling Vincent.
Seventeen times.
He hadn't answered until the following morning.
I'd spent a year telling myself that losing the pregnancy was simply a tragedy.
That sometimes terrible things happened without anyone being responsible.
Now Rosa was suggesting something else.
"Rosa," I whispered, "what do you mean?"
Her breathing trembled.
"Mrs. Sofia was worried about your medication."
My stomach tightened.
"What medication?"
"The vitamins you took during your pregnancy."
I stared.
"Rosa, those were prescribed by my obstetrician."
"I know."
"Then why would Sofia be concerned?"
"Because she found an unopened bottle with a different label."
I felt sick.
Vincent stepped forward.
"Rosa, tell me exactly what my mother said."
A long pause followed.
"She said someone had been tampering with the things Dr. Claire trusted."
My knees weakened.
I leaned against the wall.
Vincent reached toward me.
I stepped away.
"Don't."
He stopped immediately.
Maya appeared at the far end of the hallway.
"Claire?"
I looked toward her.
"I'm okay."
She studied my face.
"No, you're not."
I wanted to argue.
But I couldn't.
I was an emergency physician.
I understood medicine.
I understood that miscarriages were common and frequently occurred without an identifiable cause.
I also understood that a serious accusation required evidence.
I wasn't going to let grief become proof of a crime.
"Rosa," I said carefully, "did Sofia have the bottle tested?"
"She said she was arranging it."
"Did she receive results?"
"I don't know."
I closed my eyes.
Then Rebecca spoke.
"We should preserve any remaining records and contact investigators. The claims need independent verification."
I nodded.
That was the right thing to do.
Not guesses.
Not revenge.
Evidence.
Vincent looked at me.
"Claire, I swear I didn't know."
I studied him.
For once, I believed he might be telling the truth about that specific thing.
But it didn't excuse the rest.
"Then why was Adrian searching your mother's study?"
Vincent's face hardened.
"I don't know."
"He's your business partner."
"I know."
"He has access to your house."
"Apparently."
"And he's been meeting with Vanessa."
Vincent froze.
"What?"
I reached for my phone.
Three weeks earlier, I'd found photographs of Vanessa leaving a hotel with Adrian.
At the time, I assumed they were discussing Vincent's business.
Now the images looked different.
I showed him.
His expression changed immediately.
"Where did you get these?"
"From a private investigator."
He stared.
"You hired someone?"
"After you stopped coming home."
The words landed hard.
Vincent looked toward the photographs.
Then whispered, "Adrian told me he barely knew Vanessa."
I folded my arms.
"Apparently, he lies too."
Suddenly, Maya's phone rang.
She listened.
Her expression shifted.
Then she approached me.
"Claire, the obstetrics team needs to speak with Vincent."
He looked up.
"Is Vanessa okay?"
"She's stable."
"Then what's wrong?"
Maya glanced toward me.
I stepped aside.
Whatever happened next, I couldn't remain involved in Vanessa's treatment.
But Vincent's expression changed as he listened to the obstetrician over the phone.
"What do you mean the dates don't match?"
He stared at the floor.
Then whispered, "No. She told me eight weeks."
A long silence followed.
His face went pale.
Finally, he looked toward me.
"Claire..."
I didn't move.
He swallowed.
"Vanessa's documented pregnancy timeline is different from what she told me."
I waited.
May you like
Then he whispered the words that made my heart stop.
"She may have been pregnant before the last time I was with her."
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