Chapter 6 - Cracks in the Marriage and Hidden Alibis
I slipped the diary, the flash drives, and the mysterious photograph into my coat pocket just as the distant crunch of tires on gravel echoed outside the front driveway.
Detective Vance’s cruiser had arrived early.
I slipped out through the French doors of the study leading out to the back garden, skirting the edge of the manicured boxwood hedges before cutting through the dense line of pine trees toward my car. I drove straight back to the hospital, my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. The evidence I had just recovered didn't just implicate my father in corporate crimes; it suggested that my family’s entire fortune was built on a foundation of systemic destruction—and that Lily had somehow stumbled onto the key to the whole conspiracy.
When I pushed open the door to Lily’s PICU room, James was standing by the bed, talking in hushed, urgent tones with a man in a sharp gray suit.
As I walked in, James turned around, looking unusually defensive.
"Claire," James said quickly, clearing his throat. "You're back early. Where were you?"
"I went to the house," I said flatly, pulling the black leather diary and the flash drives out of my coat and dropping them onto the small medical tray table. "I found the hidden compartment in my father's study. This isn't just a random act of violence, James. My father is hiding a thirty-year criminal enterprise. And look at this photograph."
I held up the picture of the young woman holding the newborn infant.
James glanced at the photograph, but instead of showing shock or horror, his expression hardened into a strange, unreadable mask. He didn't even blink.
"Who is this man?" I demanded, pointing to the sharp-suited attorney standing beside James. I hadn't formally been introduced.
"Claire, this is Richard Sterling," James said, stepping between me and the stranger. "He's... well, he's your father's new senior defense counsel. He reached out to me while you were at the estate."
A cold spike of adrenaline pierced my chest. I stared at my husband, the man I had shared a bed with for six years, the father of my injured child.
"You invited my father's defense attorney into our daughter's hospital room behind my back?" My voice dropped into that terrifying, controlled register. "James, what the hell is going on here?"
Richard Sterling stepped forward, offering a thin, polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Mrs. Hutchinson, please calm down. Your husband was simply trying to protect your family's interests. This public scandal is destroying the firm's stock value, and by extension, your future inheritance. Your father made a regrettable mistake, but airing dirty laundry in public isn't going to help little Lily recover."
"My father fractured my daughter's skull," I hissed, stepping right up to the attorney, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. "And you think I give a damn about stock value or corporate inheritance? Get out of this room before I call security and have you thrown out on the street."
Richard looked at James, raising an eyebrow. James wouldn't meet my eyes; he kept staring fixedly at the linoleum floor, his jaw clenched tight.
"We'll be in touch, James," Richard murmured, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.
May you like
The heavy door clicked shut, leaving James and me alone in the sterile silence of the intensive care unit.
"Explain yourself, James," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of grief and absolute betrayal. "Why was my father's lawyer here? What do you know about that photograph?"
