A piece of paper slid underneath.
The footsteps disappeared.
Neither of us moved.
Finally, Ben bent down and picked up the paper.
He unfolded it.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
There were only four words.
You should have told her.
My blood ran cold.
“Who wrote this?”
Ben didn’t answer.
Then the emergency lights came on.
Red light flooded the hallway.
And at the far end stood Arnold.
He was holding a little girl’s hand.
Emily.
She was alive.
She looked frightened.
But she wasn’t alone.
Behind her stood a woman.
A woman I recognized.
I had seen her face hundreds of times.
She was one of the senior administrators at the hospital.
The woman who had smiled at me every Christmas.
The woman who had attended our anniversary dinner.
The woman who had congratulated Ben when he became chief surgeon.
I stared at her.
“Mrs. Carter?”
She smiled.
But there was no warmth in it.
Ben stepped in front of me.
“How did you find her?”
She looked at Emily.
“Children talk.”
Arnold shook his head.
“She found us.”
Mrs. Carter’s smile disappeared.
Ben whispered,
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Because you wouldn’t stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Saving people who weren’t profitable.”
I felt a chill run through me.
“You were behind this?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked at me.
“You really should ask your husband why he was so desperate to keep you away from the hospital.”
I turned toward Ben.
He looked devastated.
“She’s lying.”
“Is she?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Carter laughed softly.
“You still haven’t told her.”
“Told me what?”
Ben closed his eyes.
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
“Ben?”
He opened his eyes.
“I wasn’t working late because of Emily.”
My chest tightened.
“Then why?”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then he said the words that shattered everything I thought I knew about our marriage.
“I was working late because I was trying to find the person who killed my brother.”
Silence.
His brother.
I had never known Ben had a brother.
Or perhaps—
I suddenly remembered the photograph I had once found in an old box.
Two boys standing beside their mother.
Ben and another boy.
I had asked him about it.
He had taken the photograph from my hand.
“Someone I used to know.”
I had never questioned him again.
Now I understood why.
Ben’s voice trembled.
“My brother died twelve years ago.”
“How?”
“Overdose.”
I stared at him.
“But it wasn’t an overdose.”
He looked at Mrs. Carter.
“She made it look like one.”
Mrs. Carter’s face finally changed.
Emily squeezed Arnold’s hand.
And Ben reached for mine.
“I thought I could solve this without bringing you into it.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
