Chapter 6 - What They Sold
Preston built his fortune out of other people's gratitude. At charity dinners, he smiled beside premature babies whose hospital bills donors had helped pay. He called the maternity ward "our family's gift to the city." He never mentioned Eleanor Saint Claire.
Now Emily lay beneath a fetal monitor while Raymond's lawyer spread financial statements across a desk downstairs.
"Ava Brooks," she said by video call. "I've represented the trust for twelve years. Emily, I'm sorry we are meeting like this."
"Show me what he did," Emily said.
The numbers were ugly. Money designated for neonatal equipment had been routed through consulting firms with no employees. A charity account had paid for a beachfront condo under Vanessa's mother's name. Preston had approved every transfer; chief financial officer Simon Graves had buried them in legitimate invoices.
"The board saw balanced reports," Ava explained. "These are the underlying bank records. Someone made sure we couldn't see them."
"How much?" Emily asked.
"At least six million dollars we can trace. Possibly more."
She remembered an old woman pressing a twenty-dollar bill into her palm after a fundraiser. "For the little ones," the woman had said. Emily felt sick.
"Why sell the ward?"
Ava opened Northstar's draft acquisition plan. The neonatal unit would be moved across town. Forty-eight jobs were marked for elimination. The free prenatal clinic would close within ninety days. Preston had negotiated a personal "transition fee" worth another four million dollars.
"He wasn't saving the hospital," Emily whispered. "He was selling the people who trusted us."
"The transaction is scheduled to close tomorrow morning," Ava said. "I can ask a judge to stop it, but I need proof the signatures were forged. The originals would help."
Raymond's radio crackled. Security had stopped the man from the stairwell near the loading dock. He was a maintenance contractor, not a hospital employee. His name was Jonah Price, and he had a prepaid phone.
"The drive?" Raymond asked.
May you like
"Recovered," the officer said. "But its contents appear wiped."
Jonah insisted a woman had hired him. When the officer asked which woman, he held up the phone. The most recent message read: If they catch you, say Emily Whitmore paid you.
