Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew Claire
Hannah woke at 5:18 the next morning.
Ellie was crying.
The apartment was cold.
The heater had stopped sometime during the night.
Hannah sat up, grabbed the baby, and wrapped her in the thickest blanket she owned.
“I know, sweetheart.”
Ellie buried her face against her mother's neck.
Hannah kissed her hair.
“Mommy's here.”
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice whispered.
“Are you Hannah Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“You worked at Whitmore Confections.”
“Yes.”
“Did you clean Ethan Whitmore's office last night?”
Hannah's body went rigid.
“Who is this?”
“You need to stay away from him.”
“Who are you?”
The line went dead.
Hannah stared at the phone.
Then another message appeared.
You don't know what happened to Claire.
She immediately deleted it.
But the fear remained.
At 8:04, she arrived at Whitmore Confections.
Ethan was waiting.
He had changed into a charcoal suit.
No tie.
No smile.
“Sit.”
Hannah sat.
Ellie slept beside her.
Ethan closed the door.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Did you know my daughter?”
Hannah frowned.
“No.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Eight months.”
“Before that?”
“St. Catherine's Medical Center.”
Ethan stopped.
“What department?”
“Housekeeping.”
His face changed.
“Which floor?”
“Pediatrics.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
Ethan slowly sat down.
“Were you there the night Claire Whitmore died?”
Hannah's mouth opened.
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
“I didn't know she was your daughter,” Hannah continued. “I wasn't assigned to her room.”
“Who was?”
“Her nurse.”
“Name.”
Hannah hesitated.
“Rachel Mercer.”
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
“Mercer?”
“She was my mother.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Ethan stood.
“Your mother was Claire's nurse?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“You never asked.”
“Where is she now?”
Hannah looked down.
“She died three years ago.”
Ethan froze.
“How?”
“Cancer.”
“Did she ever talk about Claire?”
Hannah nodded.
“She talked about that night.”
“What did she say?”
Hannah's eyes filled.
“She said something was wrong.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“What?”
“My mother said Claire didn't die from the fever alone.”
The color drained from Ethan's face.
“She said the medical chart was changed.”
“Who changed it?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she tell you anything else?”
Hannah swallowed.
“She said someone had access to the medication cabinet.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
For four years, he had believed his daughter died because he wasn't there.
Because he chose work.
Because he missed the warning signs.
Because fate had simply been cruel.
But now—
Someone had changed the chart.
Someone had access to medication.
And his father knew something.
Ethan looked at Hannah.
“Why didn't your mother report it?”
“She tried.”
“To whom?”
“The hospital board.”
“And?”
“They threatened to fire her.”
Ethan's fists tightened.
Hannah continued.
“She kept copies.”
“Where?”
“She told me she gave them to someone she trusted.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Think.”
“I was twenty-three. My mother was dying. I didn't understand.”
“Did she leave you anything?”
Hannah looked at Ellie.
Then at him.
“She left me a box.”
Ethan's voice became quiet.
“What was inside?”
“Letters. Old photographs. Some hospital documents.”
“Do you still have them?”
“Yes.”
“Bring them to me.”
Hannah shook her head.
“No.”
Ethan looked surprised.
“Why?”
“Because they're my mother's.”
“And my daughter may be in them.”
Hannah's eyes hardened.
“My mother spent years terrified because of what happened at that hospital. I'm not handing them over because a billionaire suddenly wants answers.”
Ethan stood.
“You think this is about money?”
“I don't know what it's about.”
He walked to the window.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he turned.
“I'll pay you for your time.”
“No.”
“I'll compensate you for—”
“No.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
Hannah looked at Ellie.
“A safe place for my daughter.”
Ethan frowned.
“What?”
“I don't need money.”
She took a breath.
“I need health insurance. Reliable childcare. And a job where I don't have to choose between feeding my daughter and taking care of her.”
Ethan stared at her.
“You want benefits.”
“I want stability.”
He nodded slowly.
“You'll have it.”
Hannah blinked.
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“And the documents?”
“You keep them.”
She looked surprised.
Ethan walked toward the door.
“Bring them when you're ready.”
Hannah stood.
As she reached the doorway, Ethan spoke again.
“Hannah.”
She turned.
“I don't know what your mother found.”
His voice broke slightly.
“But if someone hurt my daughter…”
His jaw tightened.
“I will find them.”
Hannah believed him.
That frightened her more than anything.
May you like
Because somewhere deep inside her, she knew the truth would not only destroy Ethan Whitmore.
It would destroy Whitmore Confections.
