Chapter 4 - The Ghost from the Past
The phone line crackled with a heavy, suffocating silence before Eleanor Vance let out a ragged breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Eleanor had always been the quiet anchor of the Vance family empire, hiding behind Arthur’s towering shadow while managing the brutal, hidden costs of his ruthless business empire.
“Listen to me very carefully, Chloe,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a fierce, trembling whisper that commanded immediate obedience. “You do not disrespect Dr. Miller. You do not scream at the staff, and you put that stupid phone away right this instant. If there is one person on God’s green earth who can pull your father back from the brink of hell, it is that woman.”
Chloe blinked, her carefully applied mascara threatening to run down her cheeks. She pulled the phone away from her ear for a second to stare at the screen in pure disbelief.
“Mom, have you lost your mind?” Chloe protested, her voice cracking. “She literally looked like she hadn’t slept since 2010! She was posing for a selfie while people were dying!”
“Gretchen Miller doesn't sleep because people like your father spent thirty years making sure she never could!” Eleanor snapped back, the venom in her tone shocking Chloe into total stillness. “She has every right to let him die on that table. If she’s in that operating room, it means she made a choice to save him despite everything he took from her. Now sit down, shut your mouth, and pray.”
The line went dead with a sharp click. Chloe lowered the phone slowly, her mind spinning out of control. What did her mother mean by everything he took from her? Arthur Vance was a legendary philanthropist, a visionary real estate developer whose name adorned libraries, hospital wings, and charity foundations across the entire state. He gave massive checks to political campaigns and smiled warmly from the front pages of luxury lifestyle magazines. He was a hero to the public and a doting, if distant, provider to his only daughter.
Or at least, that was the fairy tale Chloe had live-streamed to her followers every single day.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, heavy and hurried. Dr. Thorne reappeared, clutching a fresh stack of consent forms to his chest. He stopped in front of Chloe, looking down at her crumpled form on the floor with a mixture of professional detachment and quiet disdain.
“Get up, Ms. Vance,” Dr. Thorne ordered, offering a calloused hand. “Sitting on the floor isn't going to change your father's vitals.”
Chloe ignored his hand and pushed herself up, brushing off her pink tweed skirt with trembling fingers. She straightened her posture, forcing her chin up to mask the overwhelming panic clawing at her chest.
“My mother said something strange,” Chloe said, her voice barely above a whisper. “She said Dr. Miller has a reason to let him die. What does that mean?”
Dr. Thorne paused, his hand tightening on the clipboard until his knuckles turned pale. He looked down the empty corridor toward the glowing red sign of Operating Room Four before turning his piercing gaze back to Chloe.
“Twenty years ago,” Dr. Thorne said quietly, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur, “Arthur Vance bought a failing medical tech firm called Miller-Vance Diagnostics. Within six months, the company went bankrupt. The founder, a brilliant young biomedical engineer, lost everything she had worked for, including her medical license, her family, and her entire life’s research.”
Chloe felt the blood drain entirely from her face. “What was her name?”
Dr. Thorne stared straight into her eyes, delivering the final blow without a shred of hesitation.
May you like
“Gretchen Miller.”
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