Chapter 7: Richard Vance Speaks
I didn't put it on speaker immediately.
I wanted to hear him first.
Hear how he framed it.
Hear what he thought I knew.
"Mr.
Vance," I said.
"I hope you're recovering well.
A first child is — it's a significant thing.
I remember when Daniel was born.
The world looks completely different afterward." A pause.
"I'd like to come and see you, if you're willing.
I think there's been some confusion today, and I'd like to clear it up in person."
"What kind of confusion?"
"The kind that happens when people who care about each other stop communicating." His voice was warm.
Practiced.
"Daniel is not a perfect man.
I know that.
But he loves you, Elena.
This situation today — it was fear.
Men do foolish things when they're afraid."
"What was he afraid of?"
"Fatherhood.
Responsibility.
The weight of it." Another pause.
"I'd like to help.
Financially, practically, in whatever way makes sense.
You shouldn't be navigating this alone."
He was offering money.
That was the first move.
"That's very generous," I said.
"Family takes care of family." The warmth in his voice didn't waver.
"May I come this evening?"
"Of course," I said.
"Come at seven."
I ended the call and put the phone down.
Luka was in the doorway.
He had heard enough.
"He's going to try to read the room," he said.
"See how much you know.
See if you're manageable."
"I know." I looked at Rosa.
"I need you to take Ada to the nurses' station for the seven o'clock feeding.
I don't want her in the room when he comes."
Rosa nodded once.
"And I need whatever your contact pulled from that drive," I said to Luka.
"Before seven."
"It'll be here by six."
It was there by five-forty.
Luka's contact — a woman named Petra who had apparently spent fifteen years working in data forensics before deciding she preferred to work for herself — had sent a compressed file to a secure address.
Luka opened it on a tablet and handed it to me without comment.
The drive contained everything my father had described in the letter.
Patient records.
Internal communications.
Authorization signatures.
And a chain of emails between Richard Vance and the two Halcyon physicians that began six weeks after my father filed his internal report and ended four days before my father's accident.
The last email in the chain was two sentences.
*The auditor is becoming a problem.
Handle it cleanly.*
I read it twice.
Then I handed the tablet back to Luka and sat quietly for a moment.
"Is this enough?" I asked.
"For a criminal referral, yes.
For civil liability, more than enough." He set the tablet on the windowsill.
"Petra has already made three encrypted copies.
One with a civil attorney she trusts.
One with a journalist who has been investigating Halcyon's successor entity for two years.
One in a location only she knows."
"And the original drive?"
"Stays with you until you decide what to do with it."
I looked at the time.
Six-eighteen.
"When Richard comes," I said, "I want you in the corridor.
Not in the room."
"Why?"
"Because if he sees you, he'll know immediately how much I know.
I want him to think he's still managing this." I paused.
"And I want to hear what he says when he thinks he's winning."
Luka studied me for a moment.
"Your father really did know what he was doing when he chose you," he said.
It was the kindest thing anyone had said to me all day.
I didn't let myself feel it yet.
There wasn't time.
At six fifty-five, Rosa carried Ada out to the nurses' station.
At seven-oh-two, Richard Vance walked through the door.
He was exactly as I remembered from those Christmas dinners — tall, silver-haired, the signet ring dark against his right hand.
He smiled when he saw me, the kind of smile that had probably worked on a great many people over a great many years.
He looked around the room.
Noted the empty bassinet.
Noted that I was alone.
His shoulders settled slightly.
"Elena," he said.
"Thank you for seeing me."
"Sit down, Richard," I said.
May you like
He sat.
And I opened the folder on my lap.
