Chapter 9 - The Recording Inside the Piano
The grand piano still smelled faintly of Claire's lavender perfume.
I hadn't opened it since the week after her funeral.
Grace stood beside me while Marcus examined the wooden panels.
"Your father knew how to hide things," Marcus muttered.
After several minutes, he located a narrow compartment beneath the keyboard housing.
Inside was a small digital recorder wrapped in velvet.
My hands trembled as I pressed play.
First came static.
Then my father's voice.
"Claire, you need to leave Miami until this is settled."
My breath caught.
Claire answered.
"I'm not abandoning my home, Vincent."
"You don't understand how dangerous Richard Hart is."
"I understand perfectly. He stole money from my grandmother's trust, and now he's threatening my baby."
A pause.
Then my father spoke again.
"I can get you protection."
"I don't want protection that comes with silence."
I closed my eyes.
It hurt to hear her voice.
So alive.
So determined.
Then another voice entered the recording.
A woman.
Dr. Eleanor Shaw.
"Mrs. Romano, you're under tremendous stress. We should discuss your delivery plan."
Claire sounded suspicious.
"Why are you here?"
"Your father-in-law invited me."
Vincent interrupted.
"I didn't invite you."
A sharp noise followed.
Then Claire said something I would remember forever.
"If anything happens during the delivery, I want another doctor reviewing every decision."
The recording ended abruptly.
I stared at the device.
"She knew something was wrong."
Grace touched my shoulder.
"She was trying to protect Noah."
Marcus immediately arranged for the original recording to be preserved and delivered to an independent forensic specialist.
That afternoon, I contacted the police and my attorney.
I was done handling everything through private channels.
Claire deserved justice that could survive outside my family's walls.
By evening, investigators had begun reviewing the trust documents.
Samuel agreed to provide testimony.
Then we received another development.
A hospital employee who had worked the night Claire died wanted to speak.
Her name was Patricia Collins.
She had been one of the nurses assigned to Claire's maternity floor.
We met her at a secure law office.
Patricia was sixty-one, with trembling hands and tired eyes.
"I should have come forward years ago," she whispered.
"What happened?" I asked.
She began crying.
"Your wife was stable after delivery. She was speaking. She asked to see her baby."
My pulse thundered.
"Then why did she die?"
Patricia looked toward the attorney.
"There was an emergency medication order. It didn't match the treatment plan."
"Who authorized it?"
"I thought it came from Dr. Shaw."
"Thought?"
She nodded.
"Because the electronic signature was hers."
I gripped the edge of the table.
Patricia slowly opened her handbag.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
"I kept this because something felt wrong."
It was a copy of the medication administration record.
At the bottom, someone had written an instruction in red ink.
Proceed. Family authorization obtained.
May you like
Beneath those words was a familiar signature.
Margaret Romano.
