Chapter 3 - SOFIA DIDN’T DIE THE WAY GABRIEL WAS TOLD
Gabriel told Hannah the official story.
Sofia had relapsed with leukemia.
A physician at St. Catherine offered entry into an experimental treatment program.
Their father approved.
Gabriel objected.
He was twenty-one.
Angry.
Suspicious.
Sofia wanted to try.
“She told me she was tired of everyone deciding how much hope she was allowed to have.”
Hannah looked at him.
“That sounds familiar.”
Gabriel’s eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
He accepted the hit.
The first rounds of treatment went well.
Then suddenly Sofia developed a severe reaction.
Multi-organ failure.
She died within forty-eight hours.
Gabriel’s father exploded.
Threatened doctors.
Threatened the hospital.
Threatened lawsuits.
Then everything stopped.
“What changed?”
Hannah asked.
“My father said the hospital proved there was no negligence.”
“And you believed him?”
“I was twenty-one.”
“Gabriel.”
“No.”
He looked down.
“I wanted to.”
That was different.
After Sofia’s death, Gabriel left Chicago for almost a year.
When he returned, his father had donated money to St. Catherine.
Anonymous at first.
Later publicly.
“Why would he donate after threatening to destroy the hospital?”
“I asked.”
“What did he say?”
“That Sofia wanted sick kids treated regardless of money.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“So maybe—”
“No.”
Gabriel tapped the sheet.
“This is not charity.”
Harbor Children’s Outreach had moved money for his father’s illicit businesses.
If St. Catherine sent $148,000 into that shell months after Sofia died, somebody inside the hospital had participated.
“Could be reimbursement.”
“Possible.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m not.”
Then Hannah asked:
“What does the West Wing have to do with it?”
Gabriel looked toward the window.
“The Bellamy family donated twenty million for that expansion.”
“After Sofia?”
“Four months after.”
“Was your father involved?”
“I don’t know.”
He hated saying those words.
Hannah could tell.
Gabriel liked knowing.
Knowledge was control.
This story was full of holes.
Then he surprised her.
“I need to leave.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“If I stay, I’m going to start making phone calls.”
“That sounds useful.”
“It won’t be.”
He looked at her.
“It will be me deciding again.”
She understood.
“You want to know who put the envelope there.”
“Yes.”
“You want to put security on me.”
“Yes.”
“You want to confront Bellamy.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
He exhaled.
“You did not ask for any of that.”
Hannah studied him.
Then:
“I’m asking now.”
His posture changed.
“For what?”
“Help.”
Simple.
Gabriel’s eyes softened.
“What kind?”
“I want to know what happened to Sofia.”
Pause.
“And I don’t want anyone following me unless we agree first.”
“Okay.”
“No intimidation.”
He almost laughed.
“Hannah.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Then say it.”
He looked at her.
“No intimidation.”
“No threatening hospital staff.”
“Yes.”
“No showing up at Bellamy’s house.”
His jaw moved.
“Yes.”
“And if something changes?”
“I tell you.”
“Before you act?”
He hesitated.
Hannah raised an eyebrow.
“Before I act.”
“Good.”
Then Gabriel asked:
“Would you like security outside your building?”
She thought.
“Yes.”
That pleased him far too much.
“Do not smile.”
“I’m not.”
“You are internally.”
“Possibly.”
They started with records.
Not guns.
Hannah accessed what she was legally entitled to through hospital channels.
Gabriel used attorneys and independent investigators.
They found Sofia’s trial.
Different name.
Different program.
The lead investigator:
Dr. Malcolm Bellamy.
Not board chairman then.
Young hematologist.
Ambitious.
Brilliant.
And according to archived reports, Sofia was not the only patient who died.
Six patients suffered severe reactions.
Three deaths.
Yet the published study listed only one death as directly treatment-related.
Hannah stared at the article.
“How?”
“Definitions.”
Gabriel sounded disgusted.
Two deaths were categorized as disease progression.
One:
Sofia.
Her chart summary stated:
complications related to underlying leukemia.
But Hannah found something wrong.
Her lab values.
Her reaction began minutes after infusion.
Not days later.
A medication error?
Maybe.
Then one nurse’s handwritten note appeared in the scanned chart.
Patient developed sudden hypotension after Batch 7 infusion. Dr. Bellamy notified. Trial medication stopped.
Batch 7.
Hannah searched.
The official study said Batch 7 was never administered at St. Catherine.
She stared.
“That’s impossible.”
Gabriel looked up.
“What?”
“Either the nurse lied…”
“Or?”
“The published trial record did.”
Then the archived nurse signature caught her attention.
C. WARREN, RN.
Hannah’s blood went cold.
Celia.
Her charge nurse.
May you like
The woman who told her to throw the envelope away.
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