Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN ARTHUR FAILED TO SAVE
Arthur did not sleep.
Neither did Norah.
By sunrise, Maya was stable enough to rest.
Norah sat beside her bed.
Arthur remained in the hallway because she had not invited him inside.
That was new for him.
Waiting.
Around eight, Norah stepped out.
“You said your wife died after Henry was born.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Arthur looked through the window toward Maya.
Then told the story he had never told anyone outside his inner circle.
Catherine had been thirty.
Healthy.
Strong.
Pregnancy uncomplicated until labor.
Then bleeding.
Too much.
Vale told Arthur it was placental abruption followed by catastrophic hemorrhage.
By the time Arthur understood how serious it was, Catherine was already gone.
Henry survived.
Catherine did not.
Norah listened quietly.
“Did you ever see her records?”
“Vale gave me copies.”
“Originals?”
“No.”
“That never bothered you?”
“Everything bothered me.”
His voice hardened.
“I was holding a newborn whose mother was dead.”
Norah’s anger softened.
Not disappeared.
Softened.
Arthur continued.
“Richard handled the investigation.”
“Your uncle.”
“Yes.”
“And found nothing.”
“No negligence. No malpractice.”
Norah crossed her arms.
“That sounds convenient.”
“It does now.”
Vincent arrived with a box.
Catherine’s archived medical file.
Arthur had ordered it brought from his private vault.
Norah looked surprised.
“You kept everything?”
“I keep records.”
“Because you’re sentimental?”
“Because I distrust people.”
“That sounds more accurate.”
Together, they reviewed the file.
Norah was not a doctor.
But she had spent two years learning medical language for Maya.
She noticed something before Arthur did.
“Her hemoglobin.”
“What?”
“Look.”
One test had been taken hours before delivery.
The number was dangerously low.
Arthur stared.
“She was already bleeding.”
“Or something else was wrong before labor.”
Then another result.
Platelet count.
Abnormal.
Liver enzymes.
Elevated.
Norah frowned.
“This doesn’t look sudden.”
Arthur called the nephrologist who had treated Maya.
The doctor reviewed Catherine’s numbers reluctantly.
“These could indicate severe HELLP syndrome.”
“Could it have been missed?”
“Potentially.”
“Could she have survived?”
The doctor went quiet.
“With proper intervention, possibly.”
Arthur felt something inside him split.
For five years, he had lived with tragedy.
Tragedy was easier than negligence.
Negligence had a name.
Vale.
And perhaps Richard.
Then Norah found a handwritten note clipped behind the medication record.
ADMINISTER 2MG IV.
No drug listed.
Just initials.
E.V.
“Vale,” she whispered.
Arthur’s phone rang.
Vincent.
“We searched Richard’s old storage office.”
Arthur put him on speaker.
“What did you find?”
“Financial records.”
“To Vale?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
Norah looked at Arthur.
“For Maya’s toxicology?”
Vincent’s silence was heavy.
“No.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“What was the date?”
“Three days before Catherine died.”
The room went cold.
Arthur gripped the edge of the table.
Then Vincent added:
“There’s another payment.”
“To who?”
“Elise Hayes.”
Norah stopped breathing.
Arthur looked at her.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“Why?”
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“The memo says: SILENCE AGREEMENT.”
Norah stared at Arthur.
May you like
Her mother had not only discovered something connected to the Cole family.
She had been paid to keep quiet by the same man who may have helped cover up Catherine’s death.
