Chapter 3 - The ICU File Exposed a Lie That Had Been Buried Since the Night Dominic Was Shot
The hospital database showed that Jonathan Vale's records had been created at 11:48 p.m. on the night Dominic was brought in.
The problem was simple.
Dominic arrived at 12:21 a.m.
His identity had been entered thirty-three minutes before anyone officially registered him.
I stared at the computer screen.
“That isn't possible.”
My colleague, Sarah Mills, looked over my shoulder.
“Someone entered it manually.”
“Who?”
“Administrator credentials.”
“Which administrator?”
She checked.
Then stopped.
“Dr. Hale.”
I felt cold.
Sarah looked at me.
“Are you sure you want to keep digging?”
“No.”
She waited.
I continued:
“But I'm going to.”
We found more discrepancies.
His insurance records had been created before arrival.
His emergency contact was missing.
His blood type was listed incorrectly.
His surgical consent appeared digitally signed.
The signature was not Dominic's.
Someone had constructed an entire identity around him.
The federal agents took copies.
Dominic's security team took everything else.
But I kept thinking about one detail.
The photograph.
The anonymous note.
He woke because of you.
I asked Dominic about it.
His answer came immediately.
“Because you talked.”
“I talk to everyone.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Not like you talked to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You never asked anything from me.”
I looked at him.
“You were unconscious.”
“Exactly.”
He smiled weakly.
“Everyone else wanted something.”
“What did you think I wanted?”
“Nothing.”
That answer hit harder than I expected.
Then he reached beneath his pillow.
He pulled out a small photograph.
An old picture of a woman.
I recognized her.
My mother.
I froze.
“Where did you get that?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
He stared at the photograph.
“She saved my life.”
My heartbeat stopped.
“What?”
“Twenty years ago.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My mother died when I was thirteen.”
“I know.”
“How did you know her?”
“She worked for a financial firm connected to my father.”
I stared.
“My mother never told me.”
“She wanted you away from my world.”
“Why?”
“Because my world killed people.”
He turned the photograph over.
A date.
The date my mother died.
My hands shook.
“Why do you have this?”
“She gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Before she died.”
I sat beside the bed.
“What did she say?”
Dominic's eyes closed.
“She told me if I ever met you, I was supposed to protect you.”
My heart broke.
“You met me before?”
“No.”
“Then how did she know?”
“She didn't know when you'd come.”
He looked at me.
“She just believed you would.”
The room became quiet.
Then Dominic whispered:
“Your mother wasn't a banker.”
I frowned.
“What was she?”
“She was an accountant who discovered money being moved through my father's company.”
“Illegal money.”
“Yes.”
“Did she work for him?”
“Briefly.”
“She was involved?”
“She tried to expose him.”
I swallowed.
“Then why did she die?”
Dominic looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“That isn't good enough.”
“I know.”
His eyes darkened.
“But I know who was afraid of her.”
“Who?”
“My brother.”
I froze.
“You have a brother?”
“Daniel.”
The name echoed through the mystery.
Daniel Vale.
His younger brother.
According to the newspapers, Daniel was a respected investment executive.
Quiet.
Charitable.
A beloved public figure.
Dominic's expression hardened.
“He was the one person my father trusted more than me.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel never challenged him.”
“And you did.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My father died.”
“Natural causes?”
Dominic didn't answer.
I understood.
“Daniel killed him?”
“I don't know.”
“But you suspect.”
“Yes.”
Then his monitor changed.
Heart rate increasing.
Dominic looked toward the door.
“Someone's coming.”
“Who?”
“Don't know.”
The door opened.
Daniel Vale entered.
He was younger than Dominic.
Blond.
Perfect suit.
Warm smile.
He looked nothing like the man I expected.
His eyes landed on Dominic.
“My brother.”
Dominic stared.
“Daniel.”
Daniel walked closer.
“I was told you were awake.”
Dominic said nothing.
Daniel looked at me.
“You must be Anna.”
“Yes.”
“I've heard quite a lot about you.”
I frowned.
“How?”
Daniel smiled.
“Hospital staff talk.”
Dominic's fingers curled around the blanket.
“Leave.”
Daniel laughed softly.
“You just woke up.”
“I said leave.”
Daniel turned toward me.
“Does he always talk to nurses this way?”
“Usually worse.”
For the first time, Daniel looked amused.
Then he leaned toward Dominic.
“You survived.”
Dominic looked into his eyes.
“Yes.”
Daniel's smile disappeared.
“I didn't expect that.”
The room became silent.
Dominic spoke quietly.
“That's the problem.”
Daniel left.
I looked at Dominic.
“You don't trust him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn't look surprised to see me alive.”
I stared at the door.
Then I remembered something.
The photograph.
The note.
The blue room.
Daniel's arrival.
Maybe the person who wanted Dominic dead wasn't trying to hide.
Maybe they were waiting for him to wake.
That night, someone slipped another note under the ICU door.
I opened it.
Three words.
ASK ABOUT ANA.
I stared.
My own name.
Written differently.
Ana.
Not Anna.
I flipped the paper.
May you like
A second sentence.
That isn't your real name.
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