Chapter 6 - The Nurse Who Kept a Copy
Natalie Price refused to come to the hospital.
She refused to meet at my house.
She refused to enter any Mercer-owned building.
That alone told me how frightened she was.
Naomi arranged a private conference room inside her law firm.
I was discharged the following afternoon.
I did not return home.
Elias placed me in a furnished apartment owned by the Rowan trust under security.
At six that evening, Natalie arrived.
She looked younger than I expected.
Maybe thirty.
Dark circles under her eyes.
Hands that would not stay still.
Naomi began.
“Why did you leave Dr. Lyle’s practice?”
Natalie looked at me.
“Because of you.”
Grant’s face flashed through my mind.
“Explain.”
Natalie swallowed.
“Dr. Lyle told us you had an anxiety disorder.”
“I don’t.”
“I know that now.”
“He said your husband was concerned you were becoming paranoid.”
Naomi leaned forward.
“What happened the night of the gala?”
Natalie reached into her bag.
She removed a small flash drive.
“I copied the medication log before I quit.”
Nobody moved.
“Why?”
“Because Dr. Lyle changed it.”
My skin went cold.
Natalie continued.
“The original log showed he withdrew two milligrams of midazolam from his emergency case.”
I knew the name only vaguely.
A sedative.
“He changed it the next morning to show the medication had been discarded.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I prepared the case.”
Naomi’s pen stopped.
“Did you see him administer it to Mrs. Mercer?”
“No.”
Natalie looked ashamed.
“But when he came back downstairs, the vial was empty.”
I closed my eyes.
Three months.
Three months of questioning my own memory.
Three months of wondering whether I had embarrassed myself.
Three months of apologizing to Grant for being “difficult” after he told me I had become irrational.
“What happened afterward?” Naomi asked.
“Dr. Lyle asked me to modify the inventory entry.”
“Did you?”
“At first.”
Her face crumpled.
“I was scared.”
She pushed the flash drive toward Naomi.
“But I kept the original.”
That evening, Naomi’s forensic team confirmed the file had been created before the altered record.
It was not enough to prove Grant ordered anyone to drug me.
But it was enough to widen the investigation.
Grant responded exactly as expected.
He attacked Natalie.
By morning, articles appeared describing her as a “disgruntled former employee.”
A Mercer spokesperson denied all allegations.
Dr. Lyle’s attorney released a statement saying any medication given to me had been medically appropriate.
Grant called me.
This time, I answered.
“What do you want?”
“You need to stop Naomi Chen.”
“No.”
“She’s destroying reputations.”
“Yours?”
“Innocent people.”
“Like Natalie?”
He exhaled.
“You don’t understand what happened that night.”
“So explain.”
“You were threatening to expose confidential company information.”
I froze.
“What information?”
“You had been asking questions about payments.”
I remembered.
At the gala, I had confronted Victoria after seeing an invoice on Grant’s desk.
Lyle Strategic Health.
Eight hundred thousand dollars.
I had asked why Mercer Healthcare was paying Grant’s personal physician.
Victoria told me it was none of my business.
Later that evening, I felt dizzy.
Then nothing.
“You drugged me because I asked about invoices?”
“I did not drug you.”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
“Grant?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
My stomach turned.
“From what?”
He lowered his voice.
“My mother.”
There it was again.
Always Victoria.
The convenient hurricane responsible for every broken thing.
“Then testify against her.”
Grant said nothing.
“Tell Naomi everything.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“If my mother goes down, Mercer goes down.”
“So?”
“So twenty thousand people work for us.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re hiding behind employees now?”
“You think this is revenge against two people.”
His voice sharpened.
“It isn’t. You pull the wrong thread, hospitals get sold. Clinics close. Jobs disappear.”
For a second, doubt found me.
Grant heard it.
“That’s what Elias isn’t telling you.”
I looked toward the city skyline.
“Then help me protect the company.”
“How?”
“Step down temporarily.”
Silence.
“Absolutely not.”
“Submit to the audit.”
“No.”
“Turn over your communications.”
“No.”
There was my answer.
“You don’t want to save Mercer.”
I spoke quietly.
“You want to save yourself.”
He hung up.
At eleven that night, Naomi called.
“We found the thread.”
“What thread?”
“The consulting payments.”
My heart quickened.
“Where did they go?”
“Not to Victoria.”
I sat up.
“Then where?”
“A holding company in Nevada.”
“Owned by whom?”
“That’s where it gets interesting.”
She sent me the incorporation record.
I opened it.
Registered beneficiary:
Rebecca Rowan.
May you like
My cousin.
The woman who had spent eleven years helping administer my father’s trust.
