During the earthquake, I was trapped in the rubble with my feverish son, but my husband carried his sprained secretary to the ambulance. Just then, my father arrived by helicopter…
PART 2
The rescue took forty-seven minutes.
When the slab finally lifted, medics carried my son into the helicopter and started fluids before we were airborne.
At the private hospital, Noah was diagnosed with pneumonia complicated by dehydration and smoke inhalation. The doctor said another hour without treatment could have killed him.
Daniel arrived ninety minutes later.
Vanessa sat in a wheelchair beside him, wearing a clean bandage around her ankle and my husband’s jacket over her shoulders.
He rushed into Noah’s room with his face arranged into concern.
“Claire, thank God. I came as soon as I could.”
My father blocked him at the door.
“You came after ensuring your secretary received treatment for a sprain.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. “It was chaos. I made the best decision I could.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You made the easiest decision.”
Vanessa sighed. “This is hardly the time for jealousy.”
My father’s security chief stepped forward, but I raised one hand.
Vanessa smiled as if she had won. She believed I was still the timid wife who avoided scenes.
Daniel leaned close to me. “Do not embarrass me in front of your father. The company needs me, especially now. Half our projects are damaged.”
I opened my phone and showed him a transfer authorization bearing his electronic signature. Four million dollars had been routed from the disaster-reserve account into a shell consultancy registered to Vanessa’s brother.
