Chapter 5 - THE UNCLE WHO NEVER EXISTED
Victor Bennett was my father’s older brother.
I had never seen a photograph.
Never heard his name.
According to my mother, that was intentional.
Victor had been brilliant.
Charismatic.
And dangerous.
He built the original research company with my father thirty years earlier.
Then something went wrong.
A patient died.
My father wanted to stop.
Victor did not.
So George walked away.
Victor disappeared.
Or so everyone believed.
Until Richard found him.
“How?” I asked my mother over secure video.
She was safe.
For now.
Victor had called from her house but left before police arrived.
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Five years ago, probably.”
The same year.
Everything began there.
My mother continued.
“Richard always admired your father.”
“He barely knew him.”
“He knew his work.”
That sentence chilled me.
My husband had not simply married into my family.
He had married into research.
“Did Richard marry me because of Dad?”
Mom hesitated.
That hurt more than if she said yes.
“You think he did.”
“I don’t know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He stayed twelve years for the long con?”
“People can love someone and still use them.”
That was worse.
I looked at Martin.
He nodded slightly.
Possible.
I hated possible.
Then Naomi handed me another record.
Funding dates.
Richard reopened Hawthorne Street five years ago.
But he began accessing my father’s archived research eleven years ago.
One year after we married.
My stomach dropped.
Not before marriage.
After.
That mattered.
Maybe I had not been selected.
Maybe he discovered the opportunity later.
Still betrayal.
Different shape.
Then another number caught my eye.
$8,000.
Regular transfers.
Every month.
Recipient:
A. Royce.
Alexis.
I stared.
Her birthday necklace was eight thousand.
But these transfers were monthly.
“She said they’d been together six months.”
Martin frowned.
“They’ve been paying her account for two years.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Who?”
He checked the source.
Victor Bennett Research Trust.
Alexis had been receiving money long before the affair.
“Why?”
Naomi said quietly:
“Recruitment.”
My stomach tightened.
“For what?”
“She wasn’t only his mistress.”
I looked at her.
“What was she?”
“A subject.”
Silence.
“No.”
“She signed trial paperwork under a different study name.”
My anger toward Alexis vanished instantly.
“Did she know?”
“Not the real purpose.”
“What was the trial?”
Naomi looked at me.
“Relationship influence.”
I stared.
“Explain.”
“They were testing whether the compound increased attachment, risk-taking, and dependency.”
My skin went cold.
Richard had been sleeping with a woman who might have been chemically manipulated.
Then I thought of his behavior.
The lies.
The spending.
The recklessness.
“What about Richard?”
Naomi went still.
Martin looked at me.
“What?”
I asked.
“Was he taking it too?”
No one answered.
I knew.
“How long?”
Naomi swallowed.
“Three years.”
The exact period his practice began failing.
His personality changed.
He became secretive.
More impulsive.
Less present.
I should have felt relief.
Instead, I felt furious.
A drug could explain changes.
It could not absolve choices.
Then my phone buzzed.
Alexis.
I answered.
She was crying.
“Claire.”
“What happened?”
“I found something in Richard’s apartment.”
“Which apartment?”
She froze.
Another secret property.
Of course.
“Downtown.”
“What did you find?”
“Medication.”
My pulse changed.
“Blue capsules?”
“Yes.”
Naomi went pale.
I looked at her.
“What?”
She whispered:
“That’s the trial compound.”
Alexis continued.
“And Claire?”
May you like
“Yes?”
“There are bottles with your name on them.”
