Chapter 3 - The Empty Vault
Richard ran a hand through his hair. The panic was finally setting in. The clean, quiet murder he had planned was turning into a messy, loud confrontation.
"You're crazy, Clare," Richard sneered, though his eyes darted toward the door. "No one is trying to hurt you. You're having a psychotic break. And quite frankly, if you refuse medical treatment, I have medical power of attorney as your husband. I can authorize the drip myself."
He moved toward the IV pole.
"You don't have power of attorney, Richard," I said smoothly.
He stopped, his hand inches from the plastic tubing.
"What?"
"I revoked it," I said, a dark, victorious smile spreading across my face despite the sweat and the pain. "I revoked your medical proxy three weeks ago when I noticed the unauthorized credit pulls on our joint accounts. I assigned it to my sister. You have no legal right to authorize a goddamn aspirin for me."
Mildred’s face turned the color of ash. "You... you went into his accounts?"
"I manage the accounts, Mildred," I spat. "I know about the failing investments. I know about the two million dollars Richard owes to the private equity group in Chicago. I know he is three weeks away from being indicted for wire fraud. You needed a massive infusion of untraceable cash to keep him out of federal prison, and I was worth more to you dead than alive."
"You lying bitch," Richard snarled, his fists clenching. He took a violent step toward the bed, raising his hand.
Dr. Sterling didn't flinch. She grabbed the heavy, rusted surgical scissors from the metal tray and pointed them directly at Richard's chest.
"Take another step," the doctor said, "and I will show you exactly how much anatomical damage a trauma surgeon can do with dull steel."
Richard halted.
"It doesn't matter," Mildred said, her voice shaking with rage. She grabbed Richard's arm, pulling him back. "She's bluffing. The policy is still active. Dr. Aris will sign off on the complications, and we will deal with this arrogant doctor later. Force the line in."
"The policy is gone," I said.
The words landed like a physical blow.
May you like
Richard stared at me, his mouth opening and closing. "What do you mean, it's gone?"
"I called the broker on Tuesday," I said, leaning back against the thin pillows, feeling a sudden, immense wave of peace wash over me. "I canceled the rider. I liquidated the primary policy. The only thing you get if I die today, Richard, is a bill for the funeral."
