Chapter 2 - The Brother She Had LostThe ambulance doors closed just as Sarah heard another suitcase being dragged across the pavement.
Through the rear window, she saw Christopher picking up her scattered belongings.
He wasn't collecting them for her.
He was carrying them back toward the mansion.
"Stop him," she whispered.
The paramedic beside her adjusted the blood pressure cuff.
"Ma'am, I need you to focus on your breathing."
"My things. He can't take them."
Mr. Wilson appeared outside the ambulance window.
"I'll take care of your bags," he promised.
Christopher stopped when he saw the older man approaching.
They exchanged words Sarah couldn't hear.
Then Christopher stepped backward, leaving both suitcases on the sidewalk.
The ambulance pulled away.
Sarah pressed her palm against her stomach.
"Please," she whispered to her unborn daughter. "Stay with me."
At Fairmont Regional Medical Center, the nurses connected her to a fetal monitor and checked for signs of preterm labor.
Sarah was thirty-four weeks pregnant.
Her contractions were real, but an examination showed no significant cervical change.
For the moment, the baby appeared stable.
The doctor ordered continued monitoring and explained that Sarah might be discharged if the contractions settled and there was no further evidence of labor.
Sarah listened, nodding automatically.
All she could see was Christopher standing behind his mother.
"Do you feel safe going home?" the nurse asked.
Sarah looked at her.
"No."
The answer came out before she could stop it.
The nurse pulled a chair closer.
"Then we'll talk about where you can go."
An hour later, the door opened.
A tall man entered wearing faded jeans and a charcoal jacket.
His dark hair had started turning gray at the temples.
Sarah recognized the face immediately.
"Alex?"
Her brother stopped.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then he crossed the room.
Sarah reached for him.
He wrapped both arms around her carefully, avoiding the monitor wires.
She began to cry so hard that she couldn't speak.
"I'm sorry," she managed.
"Not now."
"I should have called."
"Not now, Sarah."
He pressed his cheek against her hair.
"Right now, I need to know you're safe."
Alex had been twenty-nine when their mother died.
He had helped Sarah settle the estate, sell their childhood home, and handle the small life-insurance payment their mother left behind.
He'd also been the only person who objected openly when Christopher proposed.
Sarah remembered his warning.
People who make you prove your loyalty by abandoning everyone else don't deserve your loyalty.
She'd called him jealous.
Then she'd blocked his number after Christopher convinced her that Alex was interfering with their marriage.
Now her brother was standing beside a hospital bed, holding the hand she'd refused to offer him for years.
"How did you get here so fast?" she asked.
"I was in Baltimore for a work meeting."
"You still live in Virginia?"
"Yeah."
He studied her face.
"Sarah, what happened?"
She told him.
Not everything.
Just the accusation, the suitcases, Margaret's screaming, and Victoria wearing her robe.
Alex listened without interrupting.
But when Sarah mentioned the missing money, his expression hardened.
"How much?"
"Margaret says a hundred eighty-six thousand four hundred dollars."
Alex slowly released her hand.
"From what account?"
"The Bradford Holdings renovation reserve."
His eyebrows drew together.
"Your husband's property company?"
"Mine, too."
Alex looked at her sharply.
"You're still a member of that company?"
Sarah nodded.
"Twenty percent."
"And you signed the amended operating agreement three years ago?"
"I did."
"Have you ever signed another one?"
"No."
Alex leaned back.
"What exactly did Margaret accuse you of doing?"
"She said I authorized a transfer from the company's renovation account. That the money went to a fake contractor."
"Did you?"
"Of course not."
"Did they show you a document?"
Sarah hesitated.
"Christopher showed me one page on his tablet. It had my name at the bottom."
"An actual signature?"
"Electronic."
"What else?"
Sarah swallowed.
"He wanted me to sign something saying I'd repay the money by giving up my ownership interest."
Alex became very still.
"Did you sign it?"
"No."
"Good."
She looked at him.
"Why?"
Before he answered, someone knocked.
Mr. Wilson entered carrying a battered shopping bag.
"I couldn't fit the suitcases in my car," he explained. "But I saved what was spilling out."
He placed the bag on a chair.
Inside were folded baby clothes, Sarah's prenatal records, a framed ultrasound picture, and a small white envelope.
Sarah recognized the envelope.
She had hidden it beneath the lining of her suitcase weeks earlier.
It was a letter from the attorney who prepared the Bradford Holdings operating agreement.
Alex noticed the return address.
"Sarah, where did you get this?"
"The lawyer mailed it after I invested in the house. Christopher told me it wasn't important."
Alex opened the envelope with her permission.
He read the letter once.
Then again.
His face tightened.
"Sarah, listen carefully."
He turned the page toward her.
"According to this, the estate can't be sold without your written consent."
She blinked.
"What?"
"Not while you still own your twenty percent."
Sarah stared at the paper.
Then she remembered Margaret's strange remark outside.
He kept those papers.
"Alex," she whispered, "Christopher told me the property was never going to be sold."
May you like
Her brother studied the letter.
"Then why," he asked, "did their attorney send notice of a proposed sale six weeks ago?"
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