Pregnant Wife Overhears Her Husband Paying $500,000 to Make Sure She Never Leaves the Delivery Room Alive

“How long is that?”

“Potentially months.”

“Potentially?”

“It depends on probate filings, trustee certifications, and the company’s bylaws.”

Ethan set his coffee down too hard.

The lid popped loose and a brown crescent splashed across the counter.

“So he kills you and gets the company.”

“Temporary voting control.”

“Claire.”

“I’m telling you what the documents say.”

“I don’t care what vocabulary the documents use.”

His voice rose.

“He gets control.”

“Enough to make decisions.”

“What kind of decisions?”

I looked at Ruiz.

“Board appointments.”

“Asset sales?”

“Possibly, with board approval.”

“Borrowing?”

“Yes.”

“Management changes?”

“Yes.”

Ethan swore under his breath.

Ruiz leaned back in the chair.

“Could he convert that temporary control into money?”

“Not legally for himself.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

I pressed my palm against the mattress.

“With cooperation from the wrong people, he could create transactions that benefit companies he controls, push through consulting contracts, leverage properties, replace directors, authorize compensation.”

“And then?”

“Then someone would challenge it.”

“How quickly?”

I hated the answer before I gave it.

“Not quickly enough.”

The next contraction tightened before Ruiz could continue.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the pressure moving through my lower back.

Teresa came in from the adjoining work area and checked the monitor.

“Five minutes.”

“That’s closer.”

“Yes.”

“Is that bad?”

“It means we’re paying attention.”

I opened my eyes.

“You say that when you don’t want to scare someone.”

“I say it when we’re paying attention.”

Ethan picked up his ruined coffee and tried to snap the lid back on.

His hands were shaking too badly.

“Throw it away,” I said.

“I paid three dollars for this.”

“It’s hospital coffee.”

“Exactly.”

That was so completely Ethan that for a few seconds I could almost pretend we were somewhere ordinary.

Then Ruiz’s phone buzzed.

She checked it and stood.

“They found Hale’s vehicle.”

My chest tightened.

“Where?”

“Abandoned in a grocery store parking lot about four miles from here.”

“Abandoned?”

“That’s what the officer on scene says.”

“Was he in it?”

“No.”

Ethan looked toward the door.

“So he’s running.”

Ruiz did not answer.

“Do you have people looking for him?”

“Yes.”

“Is Daniel still downstairs?”

“Yes.”

“Then why isn’t he detained?”

Ruiz’s expression stayed patient.

“Because we are still building probable cause and determining what each person actually did.”

Ethan laughed without humor.

“My sister has an audio recording.”

“And we’re acting on it.”

“He ran.”

“Hale left.”

“He abandoned his car.”

“We don’t yet know why.”

Ethan rubbed both hands over his face.

“Do cops take classes in saying things that make normal people insane?”

Ruiz almost smiled.

“Mostly we learn on the job.”

I would have laughed if the fear had not been sitting so high in my throat.

“Can Daniel contact Hale?”

“Not if he gave us the only phone he’s using.”

“Did he?”

Ruiz said nothing.

That was answer enough.

I reached for my phone.

“We need Miriam.”

Ethan looked at me.

“Now?”

“Now.”

“What can she do from a hospital room?”

“She doesn’t need the hospital.”

I called her.

She answered on the first ring.

“Claire.”

“I need you to suspend Daniel’s succession authority.”

“No.”

The answer came so fast that even Ruiz looked surprised.

“No?”

“I need the board to do it.”

“Then get the board.”

“I already started.”

I stared at the phone.

“You knew?”

“I listened to the recording, and unlike you, I had the benefit of not being in labor while thinking.”

“I am not in labor.”

Teresa looked at me.

I ignored her.

Miriam continued.

“I reviewed the succession documents after your message.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because police and personal safety came first, and because telling you an incomplete legal theory while you were trapped in a hospital room would have been useless.”

Ethan muttered, “I like her.”

“You don’t,” I said.

“I like her tonight.”

Miriam heard him.

“Is that Ethan?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him not to hit Daniel.”

Ethan frowned.

“Why does everybody keep assuming I’m going to hit Daniel?”

“Because you have been threatening to since 2019.”

“That was one Thanksgiving.”

I closed my eyes.

“Can we focus?”

“Yes,” Miriam said.

“I have contacted three directors.”

“There are five.”

“One is on a plane over the Atlantic, and one is apparently at a yoga retreat where civilized communication has been prohibited.”

“Barbara.”

“Obviously Barbara.”

Despite everything, I smiled.

Miriam never liked Barbara.

“Can three act?”

“Under the emergency provisions, yes, if we satisfy notice requirements and document the basis.”

“Do it.”

“I need something from you first.”

“What?”

“A signed statement that you are revoking Daniel’s role as designated interim successor and requesting immediate board action.”

“Send it.”

“I already did.”

Of course she had.

My phone chimed.

A PDF arrived.

Ruiz raised a hand.

“Before you sign anything, I need you to understand that your phone and account activity may become evidence.”

Miriam heard her.

“Who is that?”

“Officer Ruiz.”

“Good.”

Her tone changed instantly.

“Officer Ruiz, I am Claire’s counsel on corporate and estate matters.”

Ruiz introduced herself.

Miriam continued.

“I am preparing an emergency corporate action to prevent Daniel Mercer from obtaining voting authority if Claire becomes incapacitated or dies.”

Ethan went absolutely still at the last word.

I looked away from him.

Ruiz said, “That may be relevant to motive.”

“It is relevant.”

“Can you preserve every version of those documents and any access logs?”

“I have already instructed our outside IT vendor to preserve server logs, administrative actions, downloads, forwarding rules, and credential resets.”

I sat straighter.

“Outside IT?”