Chapter 4 - The Yellow Dress
Junie hated hospitals because everyone asked questions before giving her crackers.
The emergency physician was kind, but he wanted to know where she'd hurt herself, whether she'd hit her head, and what had happened to her wrists.
She answered the first two questions.
When he asked about the yacht, she went quiet.
Adrian sat beside her examination bed.
“You can tell him, sweetheart.”
Junie looked toward the door.
“Is she outside?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The doctor waited without rushing her.
Then Junie whispered, “Corinne got mad.”
“What happened after that?” he asked.
“She pushed me.”
Adrian's hands tightened around the chair arms.
The doctor asked no leading questions. He documented Junie's account and checked her injuries.
Later, a child protection specialist helped coordinate a forensic interview so Junie would not have to repeat her story to every adult involved.
Adrian listened to the plan and felt an unfamiliar helplessness.
He could buy hospitals.
He could finance entire medical wings.
But he couldn't give his daughter back the hour before she'd learned she might die.
After the examination, Junie refused to remove her yellow dress.
A nurse offered her soft pajamas.
Junie shook her head.
“Mommy picked it.”
Adrian looked up.
“Your mom?”
Junie nodded.
“She bought it before she went to heaven.”
Adrian stared at the dress.
He remembered now.
Elise had bought it during the final summer of her life, insisting their daughter would grow into it.
His first wife had died of complications from an illness eighteen months earlier. She'd left behind a closet, a collection of handwritten recipes, and a hundred unfinished conversations.
Adrian had spent the following year trying to outrun grief with work.
Corinne had arrived while he was exhausted and lonely.
And she'd made everything seem easier.
Until today.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you throw it away?”
He looked at the torn seam near Junie's shoulder.
“Absolutely not.”
“But it's dirty.”
“Then we'll wash it.”
“It's ripped.”
“We'll fix it.”
Junie considered that.
“Can you fix the part where I fell?”
Adrian's throat closed.
“No, baby.”
She looked disappointed.
“But I can make sure you're safe now.”
He moved his chair closer.
“That I can do.”
His phone vibrated.
His attorney, Helen Mercer.
He stepped into the hallway only after Junie agreed to remain with the nurse.
Helen's voice was controlled.
“Adrian, I've reviewed the preliminary ledger. We need to meet.”
“Is it Junie's money?”
“Potentially.”
“Don't talk to me like I'm a client reading a brochure, Helen.”
“Fine. Someone attempted to authorize a transfer of eighteen million dollars from a company reserve account into a venture fund with no apparent operating history.”
“Graham?”
“His credentials originated the paperwork.”
“And Junie's trust?”
“The proposed transaction includes a pledge of Whitmore family holding-company shares. Some of those shares are held by the Elise Whitmore Family Trust for Junie's benefit.”
Adrian leaned against the wall.
“Can he pledge them?”
“Not on his own. That's why I need to see what authority they're claiming.”
“Then the paperwork's worthless.”
“Not necessarily. Someone has also submitted a document purporting to amend the trust's investment oversight arrangements.”
Adrian went cold.
“Who signed it?”
“That,” Helen said, “is the question.”
She paused.
“There's something else. Your signature appears on the supporting consent.”
“I didn't sign a consent.”
“I believe you.”
“Then somebody forged it.”
“Possibly. We need the originals and the authentication records before we make accusations.”
Adrian looked through the glass door toward Junie.
She was showing her stuffed rabbit to the nurse.
His daughter had almost died while adults fought over documents he'd never seen.
“Helen, find out who prepared it.”
“I'm working on that.”
“No, I mean everything. Every login, every email, every person who touched it.”
“I understand.”
He ended the call.
For a long moment, he stood motionless.
Then his phone rang again.
This time, it was his mother.
Celia Whitmore was seventy-one and had never been particularly impressed by Adrian's wealth.
She was impressed by people who arrived on time, remembered birthdays, and returned borrowed casserole dishes.
“Adrian.”
“Mom.”
“I heard about Junie.”
“She'll be okay.”
“That's not what I asked.”
He closed his eyes.
“She's alive. Her wrists are hurt. She's frightened.”
“And Corinne?”
He said nothing.
Celia's voice hardened.
“Adrian, I warned you that woman did not love your daughter.”
“You didn't know her.”
“I knew what Junie looked like when she entered a room.”
“Mom—”
“Children don't become quiet around someone for no reason.”
Adrian sat heavily on a hallway bench.
For the first time, he couldn't defend his wife.
Celia's tone softened.
“Bring my granddaughter home.”
“I will.”
“And Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“There's something Elise gave me before she died.”
He straightened.
“What?”
“I promised not to show you unless Junie was in danger.”
A cold sensation moved through him.
“What did Elise know?”
May you like
Celia didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, “More about Graham Vale than you ever wanted to believe.”
