Chapter 3

Three days after Gabriel's death, I was still waking up expecting to hear my brother's voice.

It happened in the quietest moments. While brushing my teeth, I would remember the way Gabriel used to complain about my expensive shampoo. While making coffee, I would think about the ridiculous restaurant he had promised to take me to after leaving the hospital. Sometimes I would reach for my phone because I wanted to tell him something, only to remember that there was no number I could call anymore.

Grief had made everything around me feel unreal.

But one thing remained painfully clear: Gabriel's death had not been an accident.

I had asked Clara to investigate the hospital records, and she had spent the previous two days contacting people who were willing to speak with her off the record. She called me shortly after nine that morning.

"Elena, I found something."

I sat up immediately.

"What?"

"The surgeon assigned to Gabriel wasn't simply removed from the schedule."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"I knew it."

"Someone from Cross Corporation contacted the hospital personally. The instruction came through a senior executive who had enough authority to have the operating schedule changed without going through the normal administrative process."

"Who was the patient they prioritized?"

There was a pause.

"Vivian Laurent's father."

For a moment, I couldn't process what I had heard.

"Her father?"

"Yes. His name is Henri Laurent. He was admitted that afternoon."

I stood and walked toward the window.

"Was his condition serious?"

"According to the medical records, it was serious enough to require treatment eventually, but there was no indication that he needed emergency surgery that night. His condition was classified as stable."

I closed my eyes.

Gabriel had been fighting for his life while another man's treatment had been moved ahead of his because someone at Cross Corporation had decided that the Laurent family mattered more.

"Do you have proof?"

"Not enough to take directly to court yet, but there are records showing the request came from Cross Medical. I'm still trying to identify the executive who authorized it."

"Could Damian have done it?"

"Possibly."

The answer was careful, but I didn't need Clara to say more.

I already knew.

Damian had known Gabriel was dying. He had known I was calling. He had been informed that the specialist was needed, and yet he had done nothing.

What I hadn't understood until now was that someone had actively intervened.

Someone had chosen another patient over my brother.

I thought about Vivian.

Her silver dress. Her flowers. The way Damian had looked at her while celebrating her birthday on the same night my brother died.

I decided I would speak to her.

Not as Damian's wife.

Not as the woman who had spent years pretending not to notice her.

I would speak to her as the woman who had nothing left to lose.

Vivian agreed to meet me that afternoon at a private café owned by one of her family's companies. When I arrived, she was already seated in a corner booth, wearing a cream-colored dress and sunglasses despite being indoors.

She smiled when she saw me.

"Elena. I was wondering when you would come."

I stopped beside the table.

"You were expecting me?"

She removed her sunglasses and placed them beside her coffee.

"Of course."

There was something different about her today.

The woman who had looked uncomfortable in Damian's garden was gone. In her place was someone composed and almost amused, as though she had been waiting for this conversation for a very long time.

I sat across from her.

"Did you know about my marriage?"

Vivian smiled.

"I've known for years."

The answer was so casual that I almost laughed.

"You knew I was Damian's wife?"

"I knew you were living with him."

"My marriage certificate was forged."

"I know."

My stomach tightened.

"You know?"

She stirred her coffee slowly.

"Elena, did you honestly believe Damian would marry someone like you without protecting himself?"

Someone like you.

The words were deliberately cruel.

I kept my expression steady.

"Then what was I?"

Vivian looked at me with an almost sympathetic expression.

"You were useful."

I felt something inside my chest tighten.

"Damian was fighting his family when you met him. He needed someone loyal, someone who would believe in him when no one else did. You gave him exactly what he needed."

She took a sip of coffee.

"But people like you always mistake being needed for being loved."

I stared at her.

"You've been waiting for me to leave."

"I never needed to wait."

Her smile widened.

"You were temporary from the beginning."

I thought about the six years I had spent beside Damian, believing every promise he had made. I remembered the nights I had helped him prepare presentations, the campaigns I had designed, and every time I had accepted being hidden because he told me he was protecting me.

"You knew he used my work."

"Of course."

"Did you know he was using my money to support you?"

Vivian's expression didn't change.

"Money has never been important to me."

That was almost laughable coming from a woman sitting in a café owned by her family while wearing jewelry worth more than most people's homes.

"Then what do you want?"

She leaned back.

"The same thing I have always wanted."

"Damian?"

Her smile answered before she did.

"Eventually."

I looked at her carefully.

"Did you know about Gabriel's surgery?"

For the first time, Vivian's expression became completely still.

"My father needed the specialist."

"Your father's condition wasn't urgent."

"He was still a patient."

"My brother was dying."

Vivian shrugged lightly.

"And my father needed treatment."

"You had Gabriel's surgeon reassigned."

"I didn't personally make the call."

"But you knew it happened."

She looked directly into my eyes.

"I knew my father was receiving the treatment he needed."

I felt my hands curl beneath the table.

"You knew my brother might die."

Vivian's smile returned, but there was no warmth in it.

"Some people are simply less important than others."

The words settled between us.

I had expected denial. I had expected tears, perhaps even an attempt to convince me that she loved Damian and had never wanted Gabriel harmed.

Instead, she had looked me in the eyes and told me that my brother's life had been worth less than her father's comfort.

I stood.

"You're not who you pretend to be."

Vivian tilted her head.

"Neither are you."

I stopped.

She smiled again.

"That's what makes this interesting, Elena."

I left without answering.

Outside, the afternoon air felt heavy against my skin. I had gone into that café believing Vivian was simply a spoiled woman who had manipulated Damian.

I was wrong.

She had confidence that didn't come from Damian alone.

She spoke about my marriage as though she had known its details before I ever suspected anything was wrong. She knew about the forged certificate. She knew about Gabriel's treatment. More troublingly, she spoke about her father's medical arrangements as though the hospital had simply done what she expected it to do.

Vivian Laurent had influence.

The question was how far that influence reached.

I had barely reached my car when my phone vibrated.

The number was unfamiliar.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it, but a message appeared immediately afterward.

You should see this before you trust anyone at Cross Corporation.

An image was attached.

I opened it.

My breath caught.

The photograph showed Damian standing outside a private hospital entrance. Beside him was a man I recognized from Cross Medical's executive directory.

The hospital's chief executive.

I zoomed in.

The timestamp was visible in the corner.

Three days before Gabriel died.

Damian wasn't alone.

Vivian's father stood with them.

I stared at the photograph, unable to look away.

If Damian had met the hospital executive three days before Gabriel's death, then the reassignment of Gabriel's surgeon had not been a decision made at the last minute.

It had been planned.

Another message appeared beneath the photograph.

Ask yourself why Damian needed to meet the hospital executive before your brother was even admitted.

My hands began to tremble.

For the first time since Gabriel died, I understood that I might have been looking at the wrong betrayal.

I had spent years believing Damian had simply stopped loving me.

Now I was beginning to wonder whether my marriage, Gabriel's death, and Vivian's place inside the Cross family had always been connected.

And if they were, then someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to make sure I never discovered the truth.