Chapter 6 - The Secret Hidden in Clover’s Medical Records
Dr. Lawson did not accuse anyone.
She was too careful for that.
But the question she raised terrified me.
“Your blood pressure rose significantly during the final weeks,” she told Clover. “That can happen naturally during pregnancy. However, the pattern in your records is unusual.”
Clover sat beside me.
Her face went pale.
“What pattern?”
“Your readings were stable until approximately three weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then they changed abruptly.”
I leaned forward.
“What could cause that?”
“Many things.”
Dr. Lawson chose every word carefully.
“Stress. Pregnancy complications. Medication interactions.”
Clover frowned.
“I wasn’t taking medication.”
“That’s what your chart says.”
The doctor opened a page.
“But your bloodwork showed elevated levels of a stimulant compound.”
My body went cold.
“What kind?”
“A common decongestant ingredient.”
Clover shook her head.
“I don’t take cold medicine.”
“None?”
“No.”
Dr. Lawson nodded.
“That’s why I’m asking.”
I looked at Clover.
“What have you been taking?”
“Prenatal vitamins.”
“Anything else?”
“Tea sometimes.”
“What tea?”
She thought.
“Herbal tea.”
“Where from?”
“My apartment.”
“Who bought it?”
Clover stared at me.
Then I saw the answer arrive in her expression.
“Your mother.”
I stood so fast the chair nearly fell backward.
Dr. Lawson lifted one hand.
“Mr. Vance, we do not know whether this is related.”
Clover whispered, “She brought me a care basket.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Exactly when her blood pressure changed.
My vision narrowed.
“She visited you?”
Clover nodded slowly.
“She apologized.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
I stared.
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“What happened?”
“She came to my apartment.”
Clover looked ashamed.
“She cried. Said she regretted the divorce. Said she had been wrong about me.”
My anger became something colder.
“And she gave you tea?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Lawson interrupted.
“We need to be careful. The compound could have come from many sources.”
But my instincts were screaming.
I called Grant.
Within an hour, security located the remaining tea packages inside Clover’s apartment.
We turned them over to authorities.
Testing took days.
Those days were torture.
Meanwhile, my mother remained under investigation for unauthorized account access and fraud-related activity.
She had stopped calling me.
Vanessa had agreed to cooperate fully.
Henry Wallace was negotiating through attorneys.
Robert Holloway had been forced to resign from any involvement with our company.
Richard Vale publicly denied everything.
My life had become legal chaos.
Yet inside the NICU, none of that mattered.
Elias was gaining weight.
Clover was recovering.
And slowly, something unexpected began happening between us.
Trust.
Not romance.
Not yet.
But trust.
I learned the schedule of every feeding.
I changed tiny diapers through the incubator openings.
I learned how to hold Elias skin-to-skin against my chest when the doctors allowed kangaroo care.
The first time Clover saw me holding him, she stood in the doorway for several seconds.
“What?”
I asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
She smiled.
“I just never imagined you like this.”
“Like what?”
“With a baby sleeping on you.”
I looked down at Elias.
“He has good taste.”
“He spit up on you ten minutes ago.”
“That was temporary poor judgment.”
She laughed.
I loved making her laugh.
But I didn’t push.
Clover needed safety more than declarations.
Two weeks later, investigators received the lab results on the tea.
There was no dangerous drug.
No poison.
No deliberate contamination.
The stimulant levels matched ordinary ingredients found in one herbal mixture that Clover had been drinking heavily.
My mother had not tried to harm her.
Relief almost made my knees buckle.
But there was still something disturbing.
The tea packaging claimed it was pregnancy-safe.
It wasn’t.
My mother said she had bought it from an expensive wellness store without knowing.
For once, I believed her.
Not because I trusted her.
Because receipts and surveillance confirmed it.
A coincidence.
A dangerous one.
The conspiracy had made us suspicious of everything.
That frightened me almost as much as the conspiracy itself.
Clover looked at me after hearing the results.
“We can’t live like this.”
“Like what?”
“Thinking everyone is trying to hurt us.”
I nodded.
“You’re right.”
“We need boundaries.”
“With my mother?”
“With everyone.”
That became our next step.
My mother was removed permanently from any access to Vance Development systems.
She lost her board seat.
Her trust voting rights were suspended pending legal review.
Vanessa resigned.
Grant remained my partner but agreed to a full governance restructuring that reduced family control.
Our company became less of a dynasty and more of an actual organization.
Funny.
I had spent years believing power meant keeping everything within family.
Now I understood that unchecked family power had nearly destroyed me.
Three weeks after Elias’s birth, he moved out of intensive care.
Clover cried.
I did too.
Quietly.
I didn’t care who saw.
The nurse placed him in Clover’s arms.
Then she looked at me.
“Dad?”
I stepped closer.
“You want to hold him?”
I already had before.
But this felt different.
No incubator.
No wires except a small monitor.
I took him.
His body fit against my chest.
Tiny.
Warm.
Alive.
“Hey, buddy.”
Clover watched us.
“You’re crying.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Hospital air.”
She smiled.
“Sure.”
I looked at her.
And something passed between us.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But possibility.
A week later, Dr. Lawson delivered the news we had been waiting for.
“Elias can go home Monday.”
Clover covered her mouth.
I stood.
“Home?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Clover started laughing and crying at the same time.
I hugged her without thinking.
She hugged me back.
For several seconds, we held each other.
Then we both realized what we were doing.
We separated awkwardly.
Dr. Lawson smiled but pretended not to notice.
Then came the question.
“Where will he be living?”
Clover and I looked at each other.
She answered first.
“My apartment.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
She seemed surprised I didn’t argue.
“I’ll stay nearby.”
“There’s no guest room.”
“I can get a hotel.”
“You own a house twelve minutes away.”
“I don’t want to be twelve minutes away.”
She studied me.
“What are you asking?”
“I’m asking if I can stay on the couch.”
Clover almost laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Adrian Vance sleeping on a ninety-dollar sofa?”
“Is it uncomfortable?”
“Extremely.”
“Then I’ll build character.”
Her smile faded into something softer.
“Okay.”
Monday morning, we carried Elias out of the hospital.
No photographers.
No business entourage.
No expensive car convoy.
Just me, Clover, one nurse, and a tiny baby seat.
I drove slower than I had ever driven.
Clover checked Elias every thirty seconds.
“He’s breathing.”
“I know.”
“You checked three seconds ago.”
“I know.”
At her apartment, I carried the bags.
She carried Elias.
The place was small.
One bedroom.
Simple kitchen.
Baby supplies everywhere.
There were boxes of diapers stacked against the wall.
A secondhand bassinet.
A chair beside the window.
And on the refrigerator, an ultrasound photograph.
I stopped.
Clover noticed.
“That’s him.”
I walked closer.
The image was grainy.
Tiny profile.
A photograph I should have seen months earlier.
My mother had seen one like it.
I had not.
My throat tightened.
Clover stepped beside me.
“I have copies.”
I looked at her.
“Would you give me one?”
“Of course.”
She handed me a small envelope from a drawer.
Inside were ultrasound photos from different stages.
Twelve weeks.
Twenty weeks.
Twenty-eight weeks.
My son growing.
Without me.
I sat at the kitchen table.
For several minutes, I couldn’t speak.
Clover placed one hand on my shoulder.
“You’re here now.”
“I know.”
“You can’t punish yourself forever.”
“I missed him kicking.”
She smiled faintly.
“He kicked constantly.”
“I missed hearing his heartbeat.”
“I recorded it.”
I looked up.
“What?”
She took out her phone.
“I recorded one appointment.”
She played the audio.
Rapid.
Soft.
A tiny heartbeat.
I closed my eyes.
Tears came.
This time I didn’t hide them.
Clover sat beside me.
We listened together.
When it ended, I whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving it.”
She looked at me.
“I didn’t save it for you.”
“I know.”
“I saved it for me.”
“I know.”
She paused.
“But I’m glad you heard it.”
That night, Elias slept in short stretches.
So did we.
At 2:14 a.m., I sat on Clover’s couch feeding him from a bottle of expressed milk.
Clover came out of the bedroom.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“He’ll wake again.”
“Then I’ll wake again.”
She leaned against the doorway.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to prove everything in one night.”
I looked at Elias.
“I’m not.”
“You look like you’re terrified someone will take him away if you close your eyes.”
She was right.
I didn’t answer.
Clover sat beside me.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“He’s here.”
I nodded.
“You’re here.”
I nodded again.
“And I’m here.”
My throat tightened.
“For tonight,” she added.
I smiled weakly.
“For tonight.”
She rested her head against the couch.
Minutes passed.
Then she fell asleep beside me.
Her shoulder touched mine.
Elias slept in my arms.
And for the first time in almost a year, I felt something close to peace.
But the next morning, someone knocked on the door.
I opened it.
My mother stood in the hallway.
Alone.
No lawyer.
No driver.
No perfect coat.
She looked exhausted.
And in her hands was a box.
“I know I don’t deserve to come inside,” she said.
I blocked the doorway.
“You’re right.”
Her eyes filled.
“But there’s something Clover needs to see.”
Clover appeared behind me holding Elias.
My mother looked at him.
Her face broke.
Then she looked at Clover.
“I found something your father left before he died.”
Clover froze.
“My father?”
Eleanor nodded.
“It explains why I hated your marriage.”
May you like
I stared at her.
And suddenly we discovered the conspiracy had roots reaching far deeper than any of us understood.
