Chapter 5 - What Richard Decided
The camera angle showed only half the music room.
Lydia lay on the floor beside the piano.
Blood darkened one side of her hair.
Vanessa stood against the wall, both hands over her mouth.
“I didn’t mean to.”
Richard Whitmore knelt beside Lydia.
Gregory Kane entered carrying a medical kit.
Adrian stared at the screen.
“Why does he have that?”
Mara answered.
“Gregory’s father was a doctor. He trained as an EMT before law school.”
On screen, Gregory checked Lydia’s breathing.
“She needs an ambulance.”
Richard said, “No.”
Gregory looked up.
“She is alive.”
“I heard you.”
Vanessa started crying.
“It was an accident.”
Richard turned on her.
“Then stop talking.”
Adrian’s hands shook.
Gregory said, “Richard, if we delay care—”
“An ambulance comes here, Lydia talks.”
“Yes.”
“She has the foundation ledger.”
Gregory stared.
Richard continued.
“She takes Sophie. She takes Adrian. She hands auditors the port transfers. Banks accelerate everything.”
Gregory’s face went white.
“You cannot calculate this like a loan.”
Richard looked at Lydia.
“Everything becomes a calculation when enough people depend on the answer.”
Adrian felt nauseated.
That sentence sounded like his father.
Calm.
Practical.
Terrifying.
On screen, Lydia moved.
A small sound escaped her.
Vanessa whispered, “She’s waking up.”
Gregory reached for his phone.
Richard grabbed his wrist.
“No ambulance.”
“Then what?”
Richard looked toward the service corridor.
“We move her.”
Adrian stepped away from the monitor.
“No.”
Mara did not pause the video.
He needed to see it.
Gregory and Richard lifted Lydia onto a wool blanket.
Vanessa opened the service door.
The recording cut to another camera.
Garage.
Lydia was placed into the back of Richard’s SUV.
Then the image ended.
Adrian’s voice was barely audible.
“She was alive.”
Mara nodded.
“At that point, yes.”
“What happened after?”
“We’re still recovering files.”
Gregory sat in a chair in the corner under guard.
He looked fifteen years older.
Adrian turned.
“Tell me.”
Gregory said nothing.
“Tell me what my father did.”
“He drove her to the old Whitmore clinic.”
“What clinic?”
“The private occupational clinic near the port.”
“That closed ten years ago.”
“Not then.”
“Was there a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Did she receive treatment?”
Gregory’s eyes filled.
“Not enough.”
Adrian crossed the room in two steps.
Security moved.
Mara raised a hand.
“Adrian.”
He stopped himself.
Barely.
“What does not enough mean?”
Gregory swallowed.
“Richard wanted her stabilized without creating a hospital record.”
“Who treated her?”
“Dr. Simon Vale.”
Adrian remembered him.
Company physician.
Dead now.
“Did she die there?”
Gregory closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Adrian stared at the floor.
Seven years of grief reorganized itself.
Lydia did not die instantly in an accident.
She survived long enough for three adults to choose secrecy before medical care.
Vanessa began sobbing.
“I thought Richard was taking her to a hospital.”
Mara turned.
“You went with them?”
Vanessa froze.
Gregory looked at her.
That was enough.
Mara said, “Did she?”
Gregory nodded.
Vanessa backed toward the door.
“No.”
Mara stepped between her and the hallway.
“Stay.”
Vanessa shouted, “I didn’t kill Lydia!”
Sophie was upstairs.
Thank God.
Adrian looked at Vanessa.
“You pushed her.”
“She grabbed me.”
“You left with my father.”
“I was terrified.”
“You helped hide her body.”
Vanessa’s face collapsed.
“Richard said if the foundation scandal came out, your company would fail. He said thousands of people would lose jobs. He said you would lose Sophie.”
Adrian laughed once.
“My father told everyone exactly what fear they needed.”
Mara’s phone rang.
She listened.
Then looked at Gregory.
“We found the clinic records.”
Gregory’s face went blank.
Mara continued.
“One entry says Lydia regained consciousness at 11:06 p.m.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“What did she say?”
Mara read from the recovered note.
“Call Adrian. He doesn’t know.”
Adrian’s knees almost gave out.
— — —
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