Chapter 5 - A SECRET HIDDEN IN THE MEDICAL RECORDS
Gabriel Moretti looked smaller in a hospital bed.
Not physically.
He was still broad-shouldered, imposing, and handsome in a way that made strangers turn their heads.
But the penthouse had surrounded him with wealth and armed men.
The hospital surrounded him with monitors, medication pumps, and people who had no interest in being intimidated.
I liked this version of the world better.
He watched me enter.
“Claire Bennett.”
“Gabriel Moretti.”
One corner of his mouth moved.
“You came.”
“Your doctor said you were well enough for a short conversation.”
His eyes dropped toward my wrist.
The bruises were fading.
His expression changed.
“Did I do that?”
I looked down.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
I waited.
He continued, “Luca told me. I don't remember how hard I grabbed you.”
“You were seriously ill and confused. That explains what happened. It doesn't make it acceptable.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Gabriel said, “Three weeks ago, Vincent invited me to dinner.”
I pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Where?”
“Belladonna. A private restaurant owned by one of our companies.”
He looked toward the window.
“He told me there were concerns about financial transfers inside the family trust.”
“What kind of transfers?”
“Money moving through accounts I hadn't authorized.”
I listened.
Gabriel continued.
“We argued. He insisted everything was normal.”
“And then you were shot?”
He nodded.
“As I left.”
“Did you see the shooter?”
“No.”
“What happened afterward?”
“Vincent arranged my medical care. Said the hospitals weren't safe because someone might attempt another attack.”
He swallowed.
“I trusted him.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“He was family.”
Gabriel explained that Vincent had been raised alongside him after Vincent's parents died.
They attended the same schools.
Worked in the same companies.
Spent summers together at the Moretti family estate.
Gabriel considered him a younger brother.
“When my father died, Vincent helped me take over the business,” he said.
I studied him.
“Legitimate business?”
His smile was humorless.
“Some of it.”
I didn't smile back.
He noticed.
“I'm not going to insult you by pretending you don't know who I am.”
“Good.”
“I've done things I'm not proud of.”
“Then perhaps you should start deciding which of those things you're willing to take responsibility for.”
He stared at me.
Nobody had ever spoken to him like that.
At least, not recently.
Then he nodded.
“Fair.”
Dr. Walsh entered with the latest findings.
She explained that the infection appeared to have developed following an invasive procedure near Gabriel's lower spine.
The surgical site had become infected and an abscess had formed.
There was evidence of localized tissue damage and inflammation contributing to his neurological symptoms.
But one detail remained troubling.
The procedure had not been documented in his discharge papers.
Gabriel looked at her.
“Are you saying they operated near my spine without telling me?”
Dr. Walsh answered carefully.
“We have evidence that a procedure occurred. We need the complete operative records and an independent review before determining exactly what was done and whether consent was obtained.”
Gabriel's face went white.
I watched him absorb the information.
For a man accustomed to controlling everyone around him, the possibility that somebody had altered his body while he was unconscious seemed almost unbearable.
Then he whispered, “Vincent.”
Later, Rebecca called with news about the temporary business authorization.
Gabriel's legal team had located two versions of the same document.
One granted Vincent limited administrative responsibility.
The other appeared to transfer substantially greater authority.
The signatures looked similar.
But the witness records didn't match.
Investigators were examining whether the broader authorization had been altered or forged.
I stared at Rebecca.
“Someone tried to take over his businesses while he was unable to walk.”
She nodded.
“And the medical records might have been used to support the claim that he was incapable of making decisions.”
I felt sick.
Gabriel's paralysis wasn't simply a medical tragedy.
It might have been the foundation of a planned financial takeover.
Then Rebecca turned another page.
“Claire, there's something else.”
“What?”
“A woman contacted the investigators this morning. She says she worked at Dr. Vale's clinic.”
I leaned forward.
“And?”
“She claims the second procedure was never supposed to appear in Gabriel's medical file.”
I stopped breathing.
“Why?”
May you like
Rebecca looked at me.
“Because it wasn't performed by the surgeon whose name is on the report.”
