Chapter 1 - The Power of Paper
The sterile smell of the hospital room was suffocating as I watched the steady rise and fall of my son's chest.
Eli was finally sleeping peacefully after the most terrifying night of my entire life.
I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, clutching my phone with the secure document folder still open on the bright screen.
The document was a blanket power of attorney and corporate proxy that Grant had signed two years ago during a massive corporate tax audit.
He had transferred total control of Whitmore Enterprises to my name to shield his assets from federal investigators.
Once the audit cleared, he was supposed to file the revocation paperwork with the state board.
He had been too busy taking trips with his college sweetheart to ever finish the paperwork.
It was a loaded gun resting right in the palm of my hand.
I heard the heavy trauma doors swing open down the hall, followed by the familiar sound of expensive leather shoes against the linoleum floor.
Grant had finally decided to show up for his family.
He walked into the room looking perfectly rested, his designer suit unwrinkled and his hair impeccably styled.
He did not look like a father whose child had almost died in a pool of his own blood.
He looked around the room with a sigh of mild inconvenience, as if he had been forced to attend a boring corporate seminar.
"I told you everything would be fine, Mara," he whispered, glancing briefly at the monitors instead of at his son.
I stood up slowly, feeling a cold rage replace the absolute terror that had gripped me for the last ten hours.
"You diverted emergency medical supplies from a trauma center for a birthday party," I said, my voice dangerously calm.
Grant rolled his eyes and checked his luxury watch.
"Sophie has a fragile heart condition, and Rachel was having a panic attack about the upcoming surgery," he replied dismissively.
He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I stepped back before his fingers could graze my skin.
That was when the heavy scent of vanilla and expensive jasmine perfume washed over me.
It was Rachel's signature scent.
"You brought her here," I stated, staring at him in absolute disbelief.
Grant looked away, suddenly fascinated by the hospital floorboards.
"She wanted to offer her support, Mara, since we were all together when the news broke," he explained.
Before I could scream at him to leave, the hospital room door slowly creaked open.
Rachel Palmer walked in, holding a cheap plastic bouquet of gift shop flowers with a sympathetic smile plastered on her face.
May you like
I felt all the blood drain out of my face as I looked directly at her collarbone.
Resting perfectly against her skin was the custom diamond pendant Grant had sworn was stolen from my jewelry box three months ago.
