Chapter 3 - The Traitor’s Trap
At noon, Eric returned to the hospital. He didn't come alone. Diane was floating behind him, her eyes darting around the recovery room like a vulture looking for scraps. She had replaced her white baby shower dress with an expensive silk blouse that I knew for a fact had been purchased using our joint credit card just last week.
"Maya, dear," Diane said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she glided to the side of my bed. "How are we feeling? Such a tragedy about the baby, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't he? We must remain strong as a family."
I didn't look at her. I kept my gaze fixed on Eric, who was looking distinctly sweaty around the collar. His fingers were nervously tapping against the screen of his phone.
"The token didn't work, Maya," Eric said, his voice clipped, trying to hide his panic. "I tried to input the verification code for the insurance authorization, but the system kept saying 'Error 404: Device De-synchronized.' What's going on with your business account?"
"Oh, that's strange," I said, putting on my best performance of an exhausted, brain-fogged patient. "Sometimes the server requires a secondary physical confirmation from my primary laptop. It’s at the house, in the bottom drawer of my desk. The password is our anniversary date."
Eric’s face filled with visible relief. "Right. The laptop. I’ll go get it right now."
"Before you go, Eric," I said quietly, my voice turning flat, losing all its previous weakness. "I want my twenty-three thousand dollars back. The hospital needs the deposit for the NICU care today, or they'll have to transfer Lily to a public facility downtown."
Diane gasped loudly, clutching her chest. "Eric, listen to her! After everything we've been through, she's still obsessing over money! Your daughter is alive, isn't she? The doctors are working! Why must she be so greedy?"
"Maya, drop it," Eric snapped, his true colors flashing violently. "The money is with Mom's bank now. It’s processed. You can't just undo a transaction because you're having an emotional breakdown. I'm going to get the laptop. We'll fix the insurance, and then we'll talk about your attitude."
They turned and walked out of the room, Diane muttering about how "ungrateful modern women" were.
The moment the door shut, I pulled out my phone and dialed the corporate helpline for Vance Marketing Solutions. I asked to speak directly to Arthur Pendelton—Eric’s senior business partner, a man who had invested his entire life savings into the firm and trusted Eric completely.
"Arthur," I said when he answered, my voice steady and cold. "This is Maya. I think you need to come down to the hospital. And you might want to bring your corporate legal counsel. I have some financial statements you urgently need to review."
"Maya? What's going on? Eric said you had an accident and were completely incapacitated," Arthur said, sounding confused and alarmed.
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"I’m very much conscious, Arthur. And I’ve just discovered where your missing Q3 client retainers went. They're sitting in a bank account in Belize under the name of Diane Vance."
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a chair scraping back violently against a floor. "I’ll be there in twenty minutes."
