Chapter 6 - The Doctor’s Confession
Dr. Malcolm Hargrove looked twenty years older than the man I remembered.
We met him inside the district attorney’s office the following morning.
Naomi sat beside me.
Noah was safely at home with Ruth, Grant, two police officers, and enough security to protect a head of state.
I still hated leaving him.
Naomi hated it more.
But she wanted to hear the truth.
So did I.
Hargrove wouldn’t look at either of us.
His attorney did most of the talking.
“My client is prepared to cooperate fully.”
I leaned forward.
“Then he can start by looking at Naomi.”
The doctor slowly lifted his eyes.
Naomi didn’t blink.
“You told me my son was dead.”
His face crumpled.
“I know.”
“You sedated me.”
“Yes.”
“You handed me ashes.”
His mouth trembled.
“They weren’t human remains.”
Naomi inhaled sharply.
I reached for her hand.
She let me hold it.
Hargrove whispered, “I am sorry.”
Naomi’s voice turned cold.
“No, you’re scared.”
He looked down.
She was right.
The prosecutor stepped in.
“Dr. Hargrove, explain the arrangement.”
He began.
Isabella and I had been referred to his fertility clinic by my mother.
Victoria privately instructed him to use Naomi’s egg instead of the anonymous donor material listed in our contract.
“Why?” I asked.
Hargrove rubbed his forehead.
“Your mother was obsessed with genetic compatibility.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“She had investigated Naomi.”
Naomi frowned.
“Investigated me?”
“Health history. Academic records. Family medical history.”
Her expression changed from confusion to disgust.
“She chose me?”
Hargrove nodded.
“You were healthy. No hereditary conditions. High test scores.”
Naomi stood.
“You treated me like livestock.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her chair fell behind her.
“You don’t know what it feels like to spend five years visiting a grave that never contained your child.”
Hargrove cried.
I felt nothing for him.
The prosecutor continued.
“What happened when Mrs. Isabella Hale discovered the truth?”
Hargrove swallowed.
“She confronted me.”
“When?”
“About nine months before her death.”
“She threatened to expose you?”
“Yes.”
“And Victoria?”
“She tried to convince Isabella to keep quiet.”
“How?”
“Money first.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then?”
“Threats.”
Naomi sat again.
I tightened my hand around hers.
“What happened the night before Isabella died?”
Hargrove began shaking.
“Conrad told me Victoria wanted Isabella frightened.”
I leaned forward.
“What did you do?”
“I went to the parking garage.”
My chest tightened.
“I left a note inside the vehicle.”
“What note?”
“It said Naomi had disappeared.”
Naomi gasped.
He continued.
“Isabella had been trying to contact Naomi. Victoria wanted her to believe Naomi had taken money and left.”
“Did you touch the brakes?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
He looked at the prosecutor.
His attorney whispered, “Answer.”
Hargrove shut his eyes.
“Conrad.”
The room went silent.
I thought of the dead fixer.
The man my family paid to solve problems.
“Did my mother order him to sabotage the car?”
Hargrove hesitated.
“I never heard her say it directly.”
The prosecutor frowned.
“What did you hear?”
“A phone call.”
He looked at me.
“Victoria told Conrad, ‘Make sure she can’t get to Mason tomorrow.’”
My stomach turned.
“That could mean anything.”
“Yes.”
“Did Conrad tell you what he planned?”
“No.”
“Then why do you believe he touched the brakes?”
“Because he called me afterward.”
Hargrove wiped sweat from his forehead.
“He said he had gone too far.”
Naomi whispered, “Oh God.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Hargrove’s voice dropped.
“He said, ‘I only meant to make the car fail in the garage. She drove too fast before it happened.’”
I couldn’t move.
The accident replayed in my mind.
Wet road.
Guardrail.
Metal crushed around the woman I loved.
“Did my mother know?”
“Yes.”
My voice barely came out.
“How?”
“Conrad told her.”
“When?”
“Before the police arrived.”
“And she covered it up.”
Hargrove nodded.
“She paid for the private mechanic’s report to disappear.”
I stood and walked to the window.
The city moved below me.
People crossing streets.
Taxis.
Normal lives.
Mine had stopped being normal five years ago.
I just hadn’t known.
Naomi came beside me.
“I’m sorry.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You’re apologizing to me?”
“For Isabella.”
“She tried to help you.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Naomi.
“And my family got her killed.”
She shook her head.
“Conrad caused the crash.”
“My mother covered it.”
“Yes.”
“She threatened Isabella.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“But Isabella still tried.”
Naomi’s eyes filled.
“She did.”
The prosecutor approached.
“With Dr. Hargrove’s testimony and the financial records, we can pursue conspiracy, obstruction, medical fraud, falsification of records, unlawful detention related to Ms. Carter’s hospitalization, and several other charges.”
“Kidnapping?”
“That will depend on how prosecutors classify the transfer of the infant under fraudulent documents.”
Naomi stared through the glass.
“Call it whatever you want.”
Her voice broke.
“My child was taken.”
The prosecutor nodded.
“We understand.”
“No.”
Naomi turned.
“You understand paperwork.”
She pressed her hand against her chest.
“I understand waking up every morning for five years thinking my baby had died alone.”
Nobody answered.
There was nothing to say.
Then Hargrove spoke.
“There’s something else.”
I turned.
“What now?”
He looked at Naomi.
“Isabella recorded a statement.”
Naomi froze.
“When?”
“A week before she died.”
“Where?”
“I kept it.”
My anger flared.
“For three years?”
“I was afraid.”
“Everyone was afraid.”
My voice rose.
“And somehow the only people who paid for that fear were Isabella, Naomi, and Noah.”
Hargrove lowered his head.
His attorney placed another drive on the table.
We watched the recording in silence.
Isabella appeared on-screen.
Alive.
Her blond hair pulled back.
Her eyes tired.
My wife looked straight into the camera.
“Mason, if you ever see this, I am sorry.”
My breath stopped.
She continued.
“I loved Noah from the first second I held him.”
Naomi began crying.
“But love does not make a lie right.”
Isabella swallowed.
“Naomi is his mother.”
She looked away for a moment.
“And if she ever finds her way back to him, please don’t punish her for wanting what was stolen.”
Naomi covered her face.
Isabella looked back at the camera.
“And Mason…”
Her smile destroyed me.
“Don’t confuse loyalty to your mother with love.”
I broke.
For the first time since Isabella died, I cried without hiding it.
Naomi held my hand.
Isabella’s final words filled the room.
“Give Noah the family we should have given him from the beginning.”
The screen went black.
For several minutes nobody spoke.
Then my phone vibrated.
Grant.
I answered.
His voice was tight.
“Sir, you need to come home.”
My pulse jumped.
“Is Noah okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
Grant hesitated.
“A reporter got onto the property.”
“How?”
“We don’t know yet.”
My jaw tightened.
“What did he want?”
May you like
Grant’s next words made Naomi look at me in alarm.
“He told Noah that Naomi is trying to take him away from you.”
