Chapter 7 - The VideoThey returned to the penthouse before sunrise.
The twins were examined by Dr. Allen and placed under observation. Claire sat in the kitchen with an ice pack against her cheek while Simon’s security team interrogated the captured men.
Natasha remained beside the babies.
She had not slept in thirty-six hours.
Neither had Simon.
When he entered the nursery, he held a tablet.
“Claire says you need to see this.”
Natasha looked at the screen.
The footage showed Simon and Elena arguing in the bedroom.
The date was three months earlier—the night Elena died.
Elena stood near the window, crying.
Simon grabbed her wrist.
She tried to pull away.
He shoved her onto the bed.
Then he leaned over her.
The image cut to black.
The room went silent.
Natasha looked at him.
“Is it real?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“You grabbed her.”
“I was angry.”
“And pushed her.”
“She tried to leave with the children.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Simon’s face was tight.
“I never hit my wife.”
The footage began again from another angle.
This time, Natasha noticed something.
The image was slightly distorted around the doorway.
She leaned closer.
“Pause it.”
Simon did.
“What?”
“The reflection in the mirror.”
A figure stood behind the camera operator.
Only part of the face was visible.
But the person wore a cream coat.
Elena’s coat.
Natasha pointed.
“There were two people in the room.”
Simon stared at the screen.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Only Elena and I were there.”
“Then who recorded this?”
He enlarged the image.
The figure’s face remained unclear, but the hand was visible.
The silver signet ring.
Simon’s breathing changed.
“Vincent.”
“Your uncle filmed you.”
“And edited the footage.”
“Most likely.”
“Why leave the reflection?”
“Because he didn’t expect anyone to notice.”
Simon looked at Natasha.
She realized he was beginning to understand something terrifying.
Vincent had not merely arranged Elena’s death.
He had been inside the house while it happened.
The nursery door opened.
A guard entered.
“We found the clinic doctor.”
Simon turned.
“Which one?”
“Dr. Mason.”
The doctor stood behind the guard, shaking.
His expensive suit was wrinkled, his face gray.
Simon walked toward him.
“Tell me who gave my son the sedative.”
Dr. Mason looked at Natasha.
Then at the babies.
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Simon grabbed him by the collar.
Natasha stepped forward.
“Let him speak.”
Simon’s eyes were cold.
“He has been treating my children for three months.”
“And if you frighten him, he may lie to survive.”
Simon released him.
Dr. Mason gasped.
Natasha asked, “What did Vincent have access to?”
The doctor swallowed.
“Medical records. Prescriptions. Medication orders.”
“Could he alter them?”
“Yes.”
“Could he make it appear that the twins needed sedatives?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he?”
Dr. Mason looked toward Simon.
“Because he wanted the court to believe the children were medically unstable under your care.”
Simon’s hands curled into fists.
Dr. Mason continued.
“He has been telling people that you are mentally unfit. That your grief made you violent. That Elena feared you.”
“Did Elena fear me?”
The doctor looked away.
“She feared what would happen if Vincent caught her.”
The room went quiet.
Natasha asked, “What did she know?”
Dr. Mason pulled a small memory card from his pocket.
“Elena gave me this two weeks before she died.”
Simon stared at it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Vincent threatened my family.”
“What’s on it?”
“Records of every patient who died in his clinics. Their official causes of death. Their actual medications.”
Natasha felt sick.
“How many?”
“Forty-seven.”
Simon’s expression became murderous.
Dr. Mason looked at the twins.
“He used patients with addiction histories. He gave them dangerous combinations, then blamed the victims. Their families were too ashamed or frightened to investigate.”
Natasha thought of Emily.
The little girl from her past.
The hospital.
The contaminated medication line.
“What clinic did Emily Harper die in?” she asked.
Dr. Mason looked at her.
“Harper Children’s Center.”
“Who supplied the medication?”
Dr. Mason’s face changed.
“Gambino Medical.”
Natasha felt as if the floor had vanished.
Simon looked at her.
“You knew one of the victims.”
“She was four.”
“Natasha—”
“She died because of him.”
Her voice broke.
The babies began to cry.
Natasha raised her hand.
Three beats.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Simon stood beside her.
This time, he did not ask what to do.
He matched her rhythm.
The twins quieted.
Dr. Mason watched them.
Then he whispered, “Vincent knows about your debt.”
Natasha turned.
“What?”
“He has been paying your hospital.”
Simon’s head snapped toward her.
Dr. Mason continued.
“Your forty-seven-thousand-dollar debt was purchased six months ago by a private holding company.”
Natasha’s blood went cold.
“Who owns it?”
May you like
Dr. Mason looked at Simon.
“Vincent Gambino.”
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