Chapter 1 - THE NINETY-NINTH CALL
Grant’s ninety-ninth call arrived at 3:18 p.m.
I watched his name flash across my phone while Chloe’s ventilator pushed another measured breath into her lungs.
I did not answer.
The next message came seconds later.
EVELYN, THIS IS INSANE. CALL ME NOW.
Then:
WE’RE STRANDED.
Then:
MIRANDA IS PANICKING.
Miranda.
So the blonde had a name.
I blocked the number.
Five minutes later, my chief of staff, Daniel Hart, entered the ICU waiting area carrying a laptop.
“I found the yacht manifest.”
I looked up.
“How many people?”
“Grant. Miranda Cole. Two crew members. A chef.”
“Who is Miranda?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Officially? A brand consultant.”
“And unofficially?”
“Grant has paid her eighty-seven thousand dollars from one of your family holding companies over the last eight months.”
My chest tightened.
“He used my company?”
“Yes.”
“For an affair?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That answer bothered me more than yes.
Daniel sat beside me.
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
He opened Chloe’s medical file.
The allergy section was highlighted.
TREE NUTS — SEVERE ANAPHYLAXIS.
I knew that.
Every teacher knew that.
Every caregiver knew it.
Our home kitchen was completely nut-free.
Then Daniel showed me the emergency intake note.
SUBSTANCE RECOVERED FROM PATIENT’S CLOTHING: CASHEW-BASED SAUCE.
I stared at the screen.
“Cashew?”
“Yes.”
“That food does not exist in my house.”
“I know.”
The attending physician approached.
“We found something in Chloe’s stomach contents.”
My heart stopped.
“A small amount of cashew protein. Enough to trigger the reaction.”
I stood.
“Was she eating?”
“We don’t know.”
“Rosa said Chloe was found on the kitchen floor.”
“Yes.”
Then the doctor looked uncomfortable.
“What?”
“When paramedics searched the kitchen for possible exposure, they found a takeout container in the trash.”
“What restaurant?”
He handed me a photograph.
A gold logo.
SANTORINI.
Grant’s favorite Mediterranean restaurant.
The receipt was still attached.
Order:
GRILLED CHICKEN.
ROASTED VEGETABLES.
CASHEW TAHINI SAUCE.
Customer name:
GRANT VANCE.
Time ordered:
10:42 a.m.
Eight minutes before he left for the yacht.
I felt something inside me go completely still.
Grant knew about Chloe’s allergy.
He had known since she was four.
He had carried an EpiPen in his jacket for years.
Why would he bring cashew sauce into the house?
I looked toward Chloe.
Then Daniel’s laptop chimed.
Security footage from my home had finally uploaded.
At 10:39, Grant entered the kitchen carrying the Santorini bag.
At 10:51, he left.
At 10:53, Chloe came downstairs.
Then the video cut to black.
May you like
Someone had deleted twelve minutes.
And according to the security log, the deletion was performed remotely from Grant’s phone.
