Chapter 9 - THE DOCTOR WHO KNEW MY MOTHER'S SECRETS
Dr. Nathaniel Price had treated my mother for fourteen months.
He knew her medications.
Her symptoms.
Her insurance problems.
He knew exactly how frightened I was of losing her.
And now his voice appeared to be connected to the people threatening us.
I stared at Adrian.
"That can't be right."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he asked, "Would you recognize his voice without seeing the video?"
I thought about the dozens of appointments.
The phone calls.
The way Dr. Price always spoke slowly when explaining Mom's test results.
"Yes."
"But we should have the recording authenticated."
I nodded.
For once, I wanted someone to tell me I was wrong.
Unfortunately, the investigators uncovered more evidence.
Dr. Price had served as a medical adviser to Vane Medical Charities.
He also received consulting payments from several companies connected to Sebastian Vane.
The payments weren't automatically illegal.
But their timing raised questions.
Some coincided with disputed treatment authorizations.
Others followed unusually large withdrawals from charitable accounts.
When the investigators contacted the clinic, Dr. Price was suddenly unavailable.
He'd taken emergency leave.
His office had been cleared.
And his personal contact number was disconnected.
I sat beside Mom's hospital bed, staring at the empty chair where he'd normally sit.
"Did you know?" I asked.
Mom looked devastated.
"No."
"Did you suspect?"
She hesitated.
"Sometimes."
I stared.
"Mom."
She squeezed my hand.
"He asked strange questions about the old hospital records."
"What kind?"
"Whether I still had copies. Whether I'd spoken to Julian."
My chest tightened.
"And you answered?"
"I told him I didn't know anything."
I closed my eyes.
Even while sick, Mom had been protecting me.
But the secrecy had left us vulnerable.
"Please don't hide things anymore."
Her eyes filled.
"I won't."
That afternoon, an independent physician reviewed her treatment plan.
The doctor explained that several previous decisions required closer examination.
Some authorizations had been delayed without clear medical reasons.
Her medication history also contained inconsistencies.
None of that proved deliberate harm.
But it meant her care needed independent oversight.
For the first time in months, Mom received a clear explanation of her options.
I almost cried from relief.
Later, Adrian arrived carrying a small paper bag.
I looked at him.
"What's that?"
"Bread."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously?"
He nodded.
"From Rossi's."
I laughed.
"You're mocking me."
"A little."
He handed me the bag.
Inside was a fresh loaf and two cups of coffee.
I smiled despite myself.
"How much?"
"Six dollars."
I shook my head.
"That's becoming a very expensive joke."
He sat beside me.
For a while, we ate in silence.
Then he asked, "Hannah, if you could do anything after this is over, what would it be?"
I considered the question.
"Open a little bakery."
He smiled.
"A bakery?"
"Nothing fancy. Good bread. Coffee. Soup in winter."
I looked down.
"And a place where nobody gets humiliated because they can't pay."
Adrian's expression softened.
Before he could answer, my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I answered.
A woman whispered, "Hannah Ellis?"
"Yes?"
"My name is Whitney Mercer."
My stomach tightened.
The second woman outside Rossi's.
She was crying.
"Coraline knows where your mother is."
I stood.
"What?"
Whitney's voice broke.
"And Dr. Price didn't disappear."
"Then where is he?"
A long silence followed.
"Coraline has him."
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Then Whitney whispered something even worse.
"He's the only doctor who can explain why your mother was given the wrong diagnosis."
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