We drove to the clinic just before sunrise.
Claire sat beside me in silence.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally, I asked, “How long has Daniel been there?”
“Eight months.”
I looked at her.
“You told me he was living with a friend.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't want you to know how bad it was.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“Does he know about Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know about the loans?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know about Marcus?”
Claire looked out the window.
“I don't know.”
The clinic was a low brick building behind a row of medical offices.
There was no large sign.
Just a small plaque beside the entrance.
Marcus Hale was listed among the private trustees.
I stared at it.
“You said this was a clinic.”
“It is.”
“You never told me Marcus owned part of it.”
“I didn't know.”
“But you knew he worked there.”
“No.”
She sounded sincere.
That frightened me more than another lie would have.
Inside, the receptionist checked Claire's identification.
Then she looked at me.
“Family?”
“Husband.”
The receptionist nodded.
“Daniel Mercer is still a patient.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Can we see him?”
The receptionist hesitated.
“I'll call the administrator.”
While we waited, I noticed a bulletin board.
Among the notices was a small flyer about financial assistance.
At the bottom was a logo.
Seven dollars.
I stared at it.
The phrase wasn't printed as part of the program title.
It was handwritten on a sticky note.
$7 processing fee.
My stomach tightened.
“Claire.”
She looked.
She recognized the handwriting.
“Marcus.”
The administrator arrived.
He was an older man named Mr. Bell.
He shook Claire's hand.
“It's been a while.”
“Where's my brother?”
“He's upstairs.”
“Can I see him?”
“Of course.”
We followed him.
Daniel was sitting beside a window.
He looked older than his age.
Thin.
Pale.
A blanket covered his legs.
When he saw Claire, he smiled.
Then he saw me.
His smile disappeared.
“Who's that?”
“My husband.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You married him?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“I've heard about you.”
“Good things, I hope.”
He gave a weak smile.
“Mostly.”
Claire sat beside him.
“How are you?”
“Still alive.”
“That's enough.”
Daniel looked at her.
“No, it isn't.”
She looked down.
He noticed the tension.
“What happened?”
Claire didn't answer.
I did.
“Your sister has been using family money to pay your medical expenses.”
Daniel's face changed.
“I know.”
Claire looked at him.
“You knew?”
“I told her to stop.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
I turned toward Claire.
“She didn't tell me.”
Daniel shook his head.
“She said she'd fix it.”
I almost laughed bitterly.
“That's what she says.”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“I never asked her to use Lily.”
Claire started crying.
“I know.”
“I told you I'd rather die than have her do that.”
“Don't say that.”
“It's true.”
I stood near the window.
“What exactly happened?”
Daniel looked at Claire.
Then at me.
“Marcus offered to help.”
“How?”
“He said he could arrange financing.”
“Through the clinic?”
Daniel nodded.
“He said Claire didn't have enough credit.”
I asked, “Did he ask for Lily's information?”
Daniel looked confused.
“No.”
Claire stared at him.
“He told me it was required.”
Daniel shook his head.
“He never said that to me.”
There it was.
Another crack.
I asked Daniel what Marcus had promised.
“A debt consolidation plan.”
“For how much?”
“About twelve thousand.”
I looked at Claire.
“How much did you borrow?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel said quietly, “Closer to thirty.”
Claire covered her face.
I stared at her.
“Thirty thousand?”
She nodded.
“I lost track.”
The administrator entered.
“I'm sorry to interrupt.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“There is a matter we need to discuss.”
“What matter?”
He looked at Claire.
“Your brother's treatment has been paid through an account associated with your household.”
“What account?”
“The Lily Mercer Education Fund.”
Claire went completely still.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What did you say?”
The administrator repeated it.
“The account has been covering medical expenses.”
I looked at Claire.
She whispered, “I didn't know.”
Daniel stared at her.
“What?”
“I didn't know.”
I asked the administrator, “Who authorized those payments?”
“We have records.”
“Show us.”
He hesitated.
“I can't disclose everything without legal authorization.”
The investigator's card was in my pocket.
I called him.
He arrived forty minutes later.
He examined the records.
Then he asked the administrator to preserve everything.
The account had been opened in Lily's name.
Money had been deposited from several sources.
Then transferred to the clinic.
The total was nearly nineteen thousand dollars.
I looked at Claire.
“You said you didn't know.”
“I didn't.”
The investigator asked, “Who had access to the account?”
Claire gave the only answer she could.
“Marcus.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I told you not to trust him.”
Claire looked at him.
“You never told me he was taking money.”
“I didn't know.”
The investigator stood.
“We need to speak with Marcus.”
“He isn't here,” the administrator said.
“Where is he?”
The administrator hesitated.
“Out of state.”
“When did he leave?”
“Last night.”
I looked at Claire.
She looked at me.
The timing was too perfect.
The investigator asked for every document connected to Marcus.
The administrator agreed.
As we left, Daniel called after us.
“Claire.”
She turned.
“I'm sorry.”
He looked at me.
“Take care of Lily.”
I nodded.
“We will.”
In the parking lot, Claire leaned against the car.
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
She looked surprised.
“Why?”
“Because you're too many things right now. But you're not the person who sent those payments.”
She began to cry.
“I still hurt her.”
“Yes.”
“I can't undo it.”
“No.”
“What happens now?”
I looked toward the clinic.
“Now we find out how much of this was your decision and how much was someone else's.”
She nodded.
That evening, Rachel came to our house.
She brought a laptop.
“I found something.”
She opened an email account Claire had forgotten existed.
There were messages between Marcus and Claire.
One message stood out.
It said:
Once the education account is active, the first transfer will be seven dollars. That creates the verification trail.
I stared at the screen.
The seven dollars had never been about pizza.
It had been a test.
Rachel opened another message.
Then another.
Marcus had been using small transactions to verify access to accounts.
The lunch forms.
The pizza references.
The repeated seven-dollar charges.
They were markers.
A system.
I looked at Claire.
“You didn't create this.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Rachel looked at the final email.
“This one is dated yesterday.”
I read it.
Marcus had written only one sentence.
They know about the child now. Move the remaining funds tonight.
I felt my stomach drop.
“Remaining funds?”
Rachel opened the account.
There was still money there.
Nearly eleven thousand dollars.
And someone had just tried to transfer it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Remaining Money Was Still Within Reach, but Saving It Meant Choosing Between Protecting Claire and Exposing Everything
The Extra Burger I Thought Would Be Harmless Became the First Sign That Something Was Seriously Wrong
Part 7 of 20
