Chapter 2 - THE TREATMENT THEY WANTED TO STOP
Holly stabilized twelve minutes later.
Her blood pressure dropped suddenly because of an infection, but the doctors responded quickly. She remained unconscious, though Dr. Patel assured me the Boston transfer could proceed if the medical team left within the hour.
I signed every authorization.
Calvin arranged payment directly from the trust.
Derek watched from the hallway as the transport nurses prepared my daughter.
He did not ask whether she would survive.
He asked whether the frozen accounts would reopen.
That told me everything I still needed to know about our marriage.
“You threatened me with my mother’s death,” I said.
Derek glanced toward the security cameras.
“I told you something you deserved to know.”
“Your father killed her?”
“I did not say that.”
“You said he made sure she never finished her investigation.”
His jaw tightened.
“My father handled problems.”
“What company stole the patent?”
He said nothing.
Calvin joined us.
“Northbridge Therapeutics.”
Derek looked at him sharply.
Calvin continued.
“Founded by Derek’s father, Grant Holloway, and your mother, Eleanor Bennett.”
I had never known my mother co-founded a pharmaceutical company.
She told me she worked in medical administration.
Calvin explained that twenty years earlier, Eleanor developed a delivery system for a gene-targeting treatment. The technology could help children with rare blood cancers similar to Holly’s.
Grant Holloway controlled the investors.
Eleanor controlled the science.
When early trials succeeded, Grant filed patents under a separate company and removed Eleanor’s name.
“She prepared a federal complaint,” Calvin said. “Three days later, her car went over a mountain guardrail.”
The death had been ruled an accident.
I was nineteen.
Vanessa was sixteen.
Our father had died years earlier, leaving our mother to raise us alone.
“She never told us,” I whispered.
“She feared Grant would target you.”
I looked toward Derek.
“When did you know?”
“After we married.”
The betrayal became deeper.
“You knew your family might have caused my mother’s death?”
“I knew she accused my father of theft. That does not prove murder.”
“And you married me anyway.”
“My father encouraged it.”
Calvin’s expression hardened.
“Because Marissa inherited Eleanor’s residual patent claim.”
Derek’s silence confirmed it.
Our marriage had been another acquisition.
Grant Holloway believed marrying his son to Eleanor’s daughter could prevent future litigation.
When Holly was born, the patent claim transferred partly into her trust.
Derek’s company later borrowed money from that same trust because Grant believed family control made the arrangement safe.
They had underestimated Calvin.
They had underestimated me.
The medical team moved Holly into the transport elevator.
I followed until a nurse stopped me.
“You can ride with her, but we need your bag immediately.”
Calvin promised to handle everything else.
As I entered the elevator, Vanessa called my name.
She stood at the end of the hallway, one hand resting on her stomach.
“Marissa, wait.”
I looked at her.
For years, I had defended Vanessa.
She was my younger sister.
She struggled after our mother died. I paid her rent, introduced her to employers, and believed every story she told me about bad relationships and unfair bosses.
Then she slept with my husband.
“What?”
She looked toward Derek.
“He lied to me.”
“You became pregnant by a married man.”
“He said your marriage was already over.”
“You attended Holly’s birthday three months before the affair began.”
Vanessa began crying.
“I didn’t know about the trust.”
“But you knew about Holly’s treatment money.”
Her tears stopped.
That was the part she could not deny.
She had stood in the hospital room and smiled while Derek said my dying daughter had enjoyed enough life.
“I’m carrying your nephew,” she whispered.
“No. You are carrying your son.”
The elevator doors began closing.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Derek said Holly would not survive long enough to need the money.”
I pressed the door-open button.
“Who told him that?”
She looked frightened.
“His father.”
Grant Holloway was not Holly’s doctor.
Yet he seemed certain she would die.
“How would Grant know?”
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Because Northbridge has been paying someone inside this hospital.”
The elevator alarm sounded.
The nurse urged me to release the door.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Vanessa.”
She looked toward the nurses’ station.
“Dr. Patel’s research assistant.”
Then the doors closed.
During the flight to Boston, I called Calvin.
He contacted hospital security and federal investigators.
The assistant, Dr. Miles Kane, had disappeared ten minutes earlier.
A search of his office revealed copied medical records, hidden payments, and messages sent to Northbridge executives.
One message concerned Holly.
PROGRESSION CONFIRMED. FAMILY LIKELY TO ACCEPT TERMINAL OUTCOME.
Another message was more recent.
MOTHER SEEKING BOSTON PROTOCOL. INTERVENTION MAY BE REQUIRED.
They had not merely expected Holly to die.
They were trying to prevent her treatment.
When we landed, Boston doctors rushed Holly into isolation.
I remained outside, unable to follow.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
A man’s voice said, “Mrs. Holloway, cancel the treatment.”
“Who is this?”
“You are risking more than your daughter.”
“What does that mean?”
“If the Boston team analyzes Holly’s blood, they will discover why Northbridge’s original trial failed.”
I gripped the phone.
“Why did it fail?”
“It didn’t.”
The caller lowered his voice.
“The treatment worked. Grant buried the results because the surviving children carried evidence of illegal experiments.”
Before I could respond, someone shouted behind him.
The line went dead.
Minutes later, a Boston physician emerged carrying Holly’s preliminary scan.
“Mrs. Holloway,” she said carefully, “your daughter’s cancer may not be a natural recurrence.”
I felt the hallway tilt.
“What are you saying?”
“We found a synthetic compound in her blood.”
“Medication?”
“No.”
May you like
The doctor looked horrified.
“It appears someone has been deliberately suppressing her immune response.”
