Chapter 8 - MY MOTHER’S HEART
Celeste Vale died at fifty-two.
Official cause:
Sudden cardiac death associated with inherited arrhythmia.
The same condition I carried.
I had always been told that was why Victor worried excessively about me.
Why Arthur funded cardiology research.
Why the Blackwood Foundation called our family history a mission.
My mother collapsed at home.
Arthur was not there.
They had been divorced.
Victor was not part of my life romantically yet.
Voss had been one of the consulting cardiologists.
Adrian was still in fellowship.
Rachel remembered something.
“Celeste wanted a second opinion before she died.”
“From whom?”
“A university center.”
“Why?”
“She believed Voss overstated progression.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did she think someone was making her sick?”
“No.”
Important.
No invented conspiracy.
But her final ECG disappeared from the archived chart.
The medical center produced a report without the tracing.
Voss wrote:
Increasing electrical instability consistent with natural disease progression.
Adrian contacted the university center.
They had received a scanned ECG from Celeste two weeks before death.
The tracing showed something unexpected.
Her underlying condition.
Yes.
But also a rhythm pattern that could be worsened by certain medications.
Her pharmacy record showed a new prescription from Voss shortly before death.
A legitimate medication for another complaint.
One known to require caution in patients with her arrhythmia.
Did it cause her death?
No one could say.
Eight years later, causation would be extremely difficult.
No preserved blood.
No autopsy toxicology for that specific drug.
No proof of intent.
Adrian said firmly:
“We are not calling your mother’s death homicide.”
“Then why did the anonymous sender mention it?”
“Because whoever wrote this thinks the same medical system that minimized her risk is being used with you.”
Detective Hayes traced the anonymous email through layers.
Eventually, a public library terminal.
Security footage showed a woman in a hood.
Not identifiable.
Then a second email came.
YOU ARE LOOKING AT THE WRONG DOCTOR FIRST.
ASK WHO CONTROLS VOSS’S DEBT.
Voss’s finances.
Julia Chen assisted after warrants and lawful financial review by investigators.
Dr. Malcolm Voss had significant gambling debt.
Not illegal itself.
Three years earlier, a private company called Aster Ridge Holdings paid off $1.2 million in liens against him.
Aster Ridge’s beneficial owner:
Arthur Blackwood’s family office.
Voss called it a private loan.
Terms were favorable.
Repayment minimal.
Arthur had financial leverage.
Again, leverage was not proof of medical crime.
But Voss’s independence was gone.
He resigned from the Blackwood Health Foundation pending investigation.
Then the hospital laboratory identified the substance in my gala samples more specifically.
A prescription-only cardioactive stimulant not prescribed to me.
The level was enough to plausibly provoke dangerous tachycardia in someone with my condition.
Not necessarily fatal.
Not predictable in exact effect.
Adrian’s voice remained clinical.
“Combined with destroyed or substituted medication, the risk was substantial.”
I sat very still.
“Could someone have intended only to make me look sick?”
“Yes.”
“And accidentally killed me?”
“Yes.”
The word accidentally did not make the plan smaller.
The next question was how the drug reached my glass.
The hotel camera had one missing angle.
But Jennifer—no Jennifer here; the banquet photographer was Leah Morrison—had taken hundreds of still photographs.
One image captured Victor near the drinks station.
Behind him, reflected in a silver champagne bucket, someone’s hand held a small amber vial.
The cuff showed a valet uniform.
May you like
Adrian’s uniform.
For twelve hours, the internet decided Adrian had drugged me.
