Chapter 8 - THE HIDDEN DOSSIERWhile Grace and the children slept out of sheer exhaustion, I sat in the estate’s study, placing rapid calls to my private investigator and personal legal team.
"David," I spoke into the phone to my close friend in pathology. "I need you to re-examine Grace Miller's medical records from Chicago Women's Hospital three years ago. The night of October 14th."
"Ryan, that was three years ago..."
"Just do it! Cost is no object!" I demanded.
Just two hours later, an encrypted dossier arrived directly in my inbox, complete with an audio file retrieved from the old hospital's internal archives.
I pressed Play. The voice coming through the speaker made my blood run cold.
"Dr. Evans, this is Amelia Brooks. Mrs. Eleanor Brooks has finalized the $5 million grant for your department. In exchange, Grace Miller's discharge summary must state that she suffered a miscarriage from falling down the stairs. Under no circumstances are you to mention that she was carrying triplets."
A nervous male voice replied: "But Ms. Brooks, she really was pregnant with triplets, and all three fetuses are viable..."
"Just do as you're told," Amelia's voice was icily practical. "Transfer her under psychiatric observation for delusions. If Ryan Brooks asks, hand him the report confirming the miscarriage. He needs to believe the baby was lost for this marriage to end definitively."
SNAP!
The expensive fountain pen in my hand snapped in two, black ink running over my fingers.
The truth was sickeningly cruel. Three years ago, I wasn't just cold and indifferent—I had been rendered completely blind by my own mother and fiancée! They had staged a flawless deception: convincing me that Grace had miscarried and abandoned our marriage due to a psychological breakdown. They severed all communication, erased every trace, and drove my pregnant wife into a corner!
Just then, the study door softly opened. Grace stood in the doorway. She had changed into simple clothes; her face was pale, but her eyes looked somewhat rested after a few hours of sleep.
"You haven't slept?" Grace asked softly, her eyes catching the black ink and my trembling hands.
Without a word, I turned the computer screen toward her and replayed the audio file.
As Amelia's voice echoed through the room, Grace stood frozen. Her eyes widened in horror, and she buried her face in her hands, wracked by silent, heartbreaking sobs.
"I... I thought I was going crazy..." Grace sank to her knees on the floor, weeping bitterly. "That night at the hospital, the doctors kept telling me I was delusional... saying I was never pregnant... Your mother hired people to intimidate me, threatening to commit me to an asylum if I didn't sign the divorce papers and disappear! I had to run in the dark, living like a fugitive just to protect these three children!"
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I dropped down and pulled Grace tightly into my arms. This time, she didn't push me away. She rested her head against my shoulder, pouring out all the bitterness, terror, and sorrow she had buried for a thousand days.
"I'm sorry... Grace, I'm so sorry..." I whispered through my own tears, holding the woman I had unknowingly pushed into hell. "I swear to you, I will make them pay for every bit of this. No one will ever touch you or our children again."
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