Claire set the coffee down.
“Did you know Grant increased his life-insurance coverage six months ago?”
Everett frowned.
“No.”
“Twenty-five million.”
“On himself?”
“On me.”
Everett went still.
Claire continued.
“He said it was estate planning because of the baby.”
“When?”
“February.”
“Beneficiary?”
“Grant, through a family trust.”
Everett’s face changed.
Claire immediately raised a hand.
“I’m not saying what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Twenty-five million dollars.”
“I know.”
“And Halcyon Ridge needed money.”
“We don’t know that.”
Everett stood.
“I’m calling Nathan.”
“Wait.”
Everett looked at her.
Claire’s pulse had quickened.
But her voice remained steady.
“Grant is reckless. He’s arrogant. He is controlling.”
“Yes.”
“But don’t turn him into a murderer because tonight was ugly.”
“He hit you.”
“Yes.”
“And forged your signature.”
“Apparently.”
“And insured you for twenty-five million dollars.”
“That is evidence of insurance, not murder.”
Everett studied her.
“You’re defending him?”
“No.”
Claire looked him directly in the eye.
“I’m protecting the truth from our anger.”
Everett slowly sat again.
Claire continued.
“If Grant committed financial fraud, prove financial fraud.”
“Yes.”
“If he assaulted me, prove assault.”
“We have.”
“If there is something else, prove that too.”
Everett nodded.
“You sound like your old audit reports.”
“Less punctuation.”
That got a small laugh.
The first of the night.
At 3:12 a.m., Marcus Bell called.
Everett answered.
“Marcus?”
A pause.
Everett’s face changed.
Claire noticed immediately.
“What?”
Everett raised one finger.
Listened.
Then stood.
“Send it to Nathan first.”
Another pause.
“No. Do not send it to me.”
Claire put down her coffee.
“Everett.”
He listened another ten seconds.
Then ended the call.
“What happened?”
Everett stared at the phone.
“Marcus found something.”
“What?”
“Someone tried to access the wedding surveillance remotely.”
“When?”
“Eleven fifty-eight.”
“Grant?”
“No.”
Claire’s skin prickled.
“Who?”
“The login belonged to Reese Calder.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Of course.
The CFO.
Grant’s oldest friend.
The man who was waiting for her signature.
“What did he access?”
“He attempted to delete corridor footage.”
“Attempted?”
“Marcus had locked permissions.”
Claire nodded.
Miniature confirmation.
Reese was involved.
Everett looked furious.
Claire was thinking.
“If Reese tried to delete the slap footage, he was protecting Grant.”
“Or himself.”
Claire looked up.
“What else was on that system?”
Everett understood.
“Every hallway.”
“Every service entrance.”
“Yes.”
“Every private meeting room.”
“Yes.”
“Loading area?”
“Probably.”
Claire pushed away the blanket.
Everett immediately said, “You’re not leaving.”
“I’m not.”
She grabbed her phone.
“I need Marcus.”
“Why?”
“Because Reese didn’t know the slap would happen.”
Everett stared.
Claire continued.
“So why was he prepared to access the surveillance system?”
Silence.
“He may not have been trying to delete the slap.”
Everett dialed Marcus.
Marcus arrived at the hospital at 4:01 a.m.
He brought a laptop.
Nathan joined by encrypted video call from the Whitmore estate.
Claire sat upright in bed wearing a hospital gown, an emerald silk wedding dress folded over a chair, and the expression she once wore while telling executives that seven million dollars was missing from their subsidiary.
Marcus opened a system log.
“Calder’s credentials accessed the remote surveillance portal at 11:58.”
Claire asked, “How did he have credentials?”
“He didn’t. Not officially.”
“So someone created them.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Marcus clicked.
“Six days ago.”
Everett swore quietly.
Claire asked, “By whom?”
“An event IT contractor named Daniel Shore.”
“Connection to Reese?”
“Don’t know yet.”
Claire nodded toward the laptop.
“What cameras did Reese attempt to access?”
Marcus hesitated.
“That’s where it gets strange.”
“Show me.”
“C-seventeen.”
“The slap.”
“Yes.”
Claire waited.
“And?”
“B-four.”
“Where?”
“Underground parking entrance.”
“Anything else?”
“D-nine.”
“What’s D-nine?”
Marcus looked at Everett.
“West staircase.”
Claire felt the room narrow.
Dr. Patel’s earlier words echoed.
Babies at thirty-one weeks need advocates.
Claire looked at Marcus.
“What happened at the west staircase?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“No incident.”
“Then why access the footage?”
“I don’t know.”
“Play it.”
Marcus did.
The camera showed an elegant stone staircase on the west side of the estate.
Guests passed occasionally.
Staff carried flowers.
At 8:14 p.m., Grant appeared.
Claire leaned closer.
Grant was not alone.
Reese stood beside him.
They spoke for less than a minute.
No audio.
Then Grant walked away.
Reese remained.
Thirty seconds later, another man entered frame.
Claire didn’t recognize him.
Mid-forties.
Gray suit.
No tie.
He handed Reese a small padded envelope.
Reese checked its contents.
Then handed the man something that looked like cash.
Everett leaned closer.
“Who is that?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Unknown.”
Claire stared.
“Go back.”
Marcus rewound.
“Freeze.”
The image stopped as the unknown man turned.
A guest badge hung from his jacket.
Too blurred to read.
Claire pointed.
“Can you enhance?”
“Not much without exporting original resolution.”
“Do it later.”
Marcus nodded.
“Keep playing.”
The man left.
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