Chapter 4 - SOFIA’S DOCTOR
Damian read the signature until the letters blurred.
Dr. Elliot Crane.
For eight years, Damian had believed Sofia died instantly when her car went through a guardrail during a rainstorm.
He had never questioned the physician who signed the hospital records.
Never questioned the emergency report.
Never questioned the funeral.
He had been too broken to question anything.
Now the same doctor’s name sat beneath a prescription connected to Victoria Sinclair.
And that medication had somehow reached Noah.
Emma watched the change in him.
It wasn’t grief.
Not yet.
It was suspicion.
A far more dangerous emotion.
“Vincent.”
The security chief stepped forward.
“Find Crane.”
“I already started.”
Damian looked at him.
“When?”
“The moment the pharmacy confirmed the name.”
Damian gave one short nod.
That was why Vincent had survived beside him for fifteen years.
He anticipated.
He moved.
He rarely needed orders twice.
Damian turned toward Dr. Mercer.
“Do not release Noah’s blood results to anyone outside this room.”
“Of course.”
“No hospital administrator.”
“No.”
“No police officer without my attorney.”
Mercer hesitated.
Damian noticed.
“This involves suspected harm to a child,” the doctor said. “I have mandatory reporting obligations.”
“I know.”
Damian’s answer surprised Emma.
He wasn’t trying to bury it.
“Make the report.”
Mercer nodded.
Damian continued.
“But nobody gets to turn my son into a press spectacle.”
After the doctor left, Emma sat beside Noah’s bed.
Damian remained standing.
“You knew Sofia?”
The question startled her.
“Only from photographs.”
“Victoria said you act like his mother.”
Emma lowered her eyes.
“I don’t.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Emma looked up.
“No. I never knew her.”
Damian watched her carefully.
It was not distrust.
Not exactly.
But tonight had broken his ability to take anything for granted.
“When did you first suspect Victoria?”
“About four months ago.”
“And you waited.”
The words hurt.
Emma stood.
“I didn’t wait.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I tried.”
His expression changed slightly.
“When?”
“The night of the winter fundraiser.”
Damian frowned.
“You handed me an envelope.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it contained Noah’s pediatric schedule.”
“It contained a letter.”
Damian’s eyes sharpened.
“What letter?”
“A written account of what I had seen.”
“I never received one.”
“I handed it to you personally.”
“No. You handed it to Vincent.”
Emma stopped.
The room went quiet.
Both of them slowly turned toward the glass panel in the door.
Vincent was no longer outside.
Damian reached for his phone.
Before he could dial, it rang.
Vincent.
Damian answered.
“Where are you?”
A burst of static.
Then Vincent’s voice.
“Sir, we found Crane.”
“Where?”
“His clinic.”
Damian listened.
His expression changed.
“What happened?”
Another pause.
Vincent spoke more quietly.
“He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Not missing.”
Emma felt cold.
Damian’s eyes closed for half a second.
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Police estimate three hours ago.”
The timing was impossible to ignore.
Emma whispered—
“Before we even knew his name.”
Damian heard her.
So did Vincent.
Which meant someone else had known they were about to find him.
Damian’s voice hardened.
“Was it natural?”
“No.”
Emma’s breath caught.
Vincent continued.
“And there’s something else.”
Damian’s grip tightened around the phone.
“What?”
“His office was searched.”
“For records?”
“It looks that way.”
“Did they take everything?”
“No.”
A pause.
“We found a locked cabinet behind the wall panel.”
Damian waited.
Vincent said—
“There are files in it.”
“On Sofia?”
“Yes.”
Damian stopped breathing.
Emma saw it.
Vincent continued.
“And Victoria.”
Damian’s eyes became unreadable.
“But that isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?”
“There’s a file on Noah.”
Damian stared through the hospital window into the dark city.
“Bring it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“The police already sealed the office.”
“Then photograph it.”
“I did.”
Damian’s phone chimed.
An image arrived.
Emma watched his face as he opened it.
The first page showed Noah’s name.
NOAH HAWTHORNE.
Underneath it:
GUARDIANSHIP CONTINGENCY ASSESSMENT.
Damian scrolled.
Then stopped.
His face drained of emotion.
Emma stood.
“What does it say?”
For several seconds, Damian could not answer.
Finally, he turned the phone toward her.
One line had been circled in red.
Subject’s biological father may be medically and psychologically unsuitable for long-term guardianship.
Below that was another line.
Recommended alternate guardian: Victoria Sinclair.
Emma stared at him.
“You never agreed to that.”
“No.”
“Then why does it exist?”
Damian slowly lowered the phone.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
Noah stirred.
Emma immediately looked toward him.
The toddler’s eyes opened slightly.
“Daddy?”
Damian moved to the bed.
“I’m here.”
Noah’s tiny hand caught his finger.
Then the child whispered something neither adult expected.
“Lady hurt Mommy.”
Damian froze.
Emma leaned closer.
“What did you say, sweetheart?”
Noah’s eyes were already closing again.
“Lady hurt Mommy.”
Damian and Emma stared at each other.
Noah had been six months old when Sofia died.
Too young to remember her.
Too young to remember an accident.
May you like
And yet someone had clearly been speaking to him about his mother.
The question was who.
