Chapter 7 - The Black Drive
Dr. Harrington asked me to come forward. Every camera turned with me as I stood. I picked up the reserved card Sloane had dropped on the floor and handed it back to her. “You dropped this,” I said softly. Her fingers shook when she took it.
Grant whispered my name, "Evelyn..." but it no longer sounded like a warning. It sounded like a man reaching for a door after it had already locked. I walked past him and took the microphone. I looked at the nurses first. They deserved that. Then I looked at the cameras. “This gift was not made by the Whitaker Foundation.”
Grant’s face went completely pale. The silence in the atrium was absolute. “It was not arranged by Grant Whitaker. It was not connected to Ms. Pierce or her consulting firm.” The whispering started immediately. Flashbulbs went off in a blinding wave.
Sloane stepped back. Grant tried to move toward me, but Dr. Harrington’s legal counsel stepped between us. Then Helena opened the black folder. Inside was the one thing Grant had prayed I would never use. A small black drive marked Room 904.
May you like
Helena handed the drive to the AV technician at the back of the room. A moment later, my husband's voice echoed through the state-of-the-art sound system of the atrium. "If she dies, her shares pass to me. The trust dissolves into my accounts. We just have to wait."
A collective gasp ripped through the crowd. Regina Whitaker dropped her designer handbag, her hand flying to her chest in horror. The board of trustees looked at Grant as if he had turned into a monster right before their eyes. Sloane covered her face, trying to push through the crowd to escape, but she was cornered by aggressive reporters demanding answers. Grant stood frozen, his perfect reputation shattering into a million irreparable pieces on the marble floor.
