Chapter 3 - THE ACCIDENT THAT WASN'T
For five years, Vivienne had remembered rain.
Headlights.
A guardrail.
The violent spin of the steering wheel.
Then darkness.
The police called it hydroplaning.
Adrian called it the worst night of his life.
Vivienne had believed both.
Until now.
Evelyn placed an old photograph on the hospital table.
A man in his late forties stood beside Charles Hartwell.
"Dr. Marcus Vale," Evelyn said.
Vivienne knew the name.
"Neurosurgeon."
"And director of Project Meridian."
"Where is he?"
"Missing."
Vivienne looked up.
"Since when?"
"The night of your accident."
Vivienne felt cold all over.
Evelyn explained.
Five years earlier, Marcus had contacted Vivienne privately.
He told her he possessed evidence that Project Meridian had been deliberately buried.
He claimed patient data had been falsified.
Millions had disappeared.
He refused to discuss details by phone.
Vivienne agreed to meet him.
She never arrived.
"You don't remember?"
Vivienne shook her head.
Her memories surrounding the accident had always been fragmented.
Doctors blamed trauma.
Medication.
Swelling.
Now she wondered what else they had blamed on convenience.
Elias opened another folder.
"We pulled your vehicle file this morning."
Vivienne gave a bitter laugh.
"My vehicle file?"
"The original police report is gone."
"Gone?"
"Replaced three years ago."
"By whom?"
"We're tracing it."
Evelyn placed another document beside the first.
A mechanic's handwritten inspection.
Vivienne read one line repeatedly.
BRAKE LINE: CLEAN INCISION.
Her fingers went numb.
"Someone cut my brakes."
"We believe so."
"Adrian?"
"We don't know."
Vivienne looked at her mother.
"But he benefited."
"Yes."
"And he became the perfect husband after."
"Yes."
Vivienne remembered waking after surgery.
Adrian beside her.
Crying.
Holding her hand.
Promising they would survive anything.
The thought made her stomach turn.
The hospital door opened.
A detective entered.
Lena Ortiz.
Mid-forties.
No wasted movement.
No performative sympathy.
"I need to ask you about your sister."
Vivienne's expression hardened.
"What about her?"
"Sloane requested an attorney and a deal."
Evelyn frowned.
"A deal for what?"
Ortiz looked at Vivienne.
"She says Adrian didn't start planning your death six weeks ago."
Vivienne already knew what was coming.
"How long?"
"Five years."
Silence.
Sloane claimed Adrian had once told her the crash was "the first time Vivienne refused to die correctly."
Vivienne closed her eyes.
The sentence felt like a knife.
Ortiz continued.
"Sloane says she thought he was exaggerating."
"And now?"
"Now she believes he was confessing."
Vivienne looked at her mother.
"Get me the original accident records."
"We're trying."
"No."
Vivienne pulled herself upright.
"Get me out of this hospital."
Ortiz shook her head.
"You're not medically cleared."
"I'm not safe here."
"Neither is anyone trying to reach you."
Vivienne stared.
Ortiz placed a transparent evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a small black object.
A listening device.
"We found it beneath your bed thirty minutes ago."
Evelyn stood.
"How?"
"That's the question."
Ortiz looked toward the ceiling camera.
"Your mother's people controlled this room all night."
Evelyn's face tightened.
"Which means?"
Ortiz looked at her.
"Either your security isn't as secure as you think."
She looked at Elias.
"Or someone already inside this room planted it."
No one spoke.
Then Vivienne's monitor began beeping.
Not medically.
Her phone had connected to a new message.
Unknown number.
One photograph.
Vivienne opened it.
Her stomach dropped.
It showed her car from five years earlier.
Crumpled against the bottom of the ravine.
On the back window, someone had written three words in white marker before investigators arrived.
SHE KNOWS MERIDIAN.
A second message appeared.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE IN THAT CAR.
Vivienne slowly looked at Evelyn.
May you like
Her mother was no longer pale.
She looked terrified.
