Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WAITING TO BECOME MRS. PRICE
Sloane Avery disappeared before midnight.
That did not surprise Grace.
What surprised her was how prepared Sloane had been.
Her Manhattan apartment was empty.
Her company laptop had been wiped.
Her personal phone went dark eighteen minutes after Price Meridian announced Nolan’s suspension.
A private car registered to one of Nolan’s subsidiary companies carried her to Westchester County Airport.
But she never boarded a scheduled flight.
At 2:08 a.m., surveillance cameras captured Sloane entering a private hangar.
At 2:31, a chartered jet departed for Montreal.
The aircraft belonged to a leasing company indirectly controlled by Price Meridian.
By sunrise, Rebecca Shaw was standing beside Grace’s hospital bed with coffee and a look that said the night had not gone well.
“She crossed into Canada?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“The aircraft landed in Montreal. She was not on the passenger manifest.”
Grace gave a tired laugh.
“Sloane managed private aviation contracts.”
“Exactly.”
“She knows every loophole.”
“She also knows fleeing makes her look guilty.”
Grace looked toward the monitor beside her bed.
The baby’s heartbeat remained steady.
Doctors wanted her hospitalized at least one more night.
Her contractions had slowed.
She was no longer dangerously cold.
Medically, she was improving.
Everything else was getting worse.
“What did the lab find?”
Rebecca sat.
“Preliminary screen on the sleep drops.”
Grace braced herself.
“They contained a prescription sedative.”
“I don’t have a prescription.”
“We know.”
“What kind?”
“A medication that can cause drowsiness, confusion, impaired concentration, and memory problems.”
Grace closed her eyes.
She remembered the night she took the drops.
Nolan had brought tea upstairs.
He massaged her feet.
He apologized for working too much.
For almost an hour, he resembled the man she married.
Then Grace became so sleepy she could barely stand.
The next morning, she woke with a headache and no memory of going to bed.
Nolan told her she had become emotional and confused.
He said she accused him of stealing documents.
Grace had believed she was exhausted.
“He recorded me that night.”
Rebecca’s head lifted.
“What?”
“Nolan showed me part of it the next morning.”
“What happened?”
“I was sitting on the bedroom floor.”
“Were you coherent?”
“Barely.”
“What was he asking?”
Grace tried to remember.
“Whether I trusted him.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“What did you say?”
“I think I said yes.”
“Anything about finances?”
Grace’s stomach tightened.
“He asked whether he should handle everything until the baby came.”
Rebecca stood.
“We need that recording.”
“If it helps him, he won’t destroy it.”
“Exactly.”
Charles entered carrying breakfast he had clearly bullied someone into allowing upstairs.
“You need to eat.”
Grace looked at him.
“I’m discussing being drugged.”
“You can discuss it with toast.”
Rebecca hid a smile.
Grace accepted the tray.
Her father sat.
“What did I miss?”
Rebecca explained.
Charles became quiet.
Then he asked:
“Is there any risk to the baby from that medication?”
“We need the obstetric team to answer.”
Grace saw the terror in his face before he hid it.
That was enough.
“Dad.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
He looked at her.
“I should have gotten you out earlier.”
Grace put down the fork.
“You didn’t know.”
“I knew enough.”
“You warned me about Nolan’s finances.”
“I warned you about his ambition.”
“You didn’t know this.”
Charles said nothing.
“Do not make his decisions into your failure.”
Her father looked almost startled.
Grace realized she was telling him exactly what he had told her.
You never have to apologize for trusting someone you loved.
At nine, Dr. Patel returned with a maternal-fetal medicine specialist.
They explained that a single limited exposure was unlikely to have harmed the baby based on the current information, but they would review exact dosage once toxicology confirmed it.
Grace finally breathed.
Then Dr. Patel said:
“We also need to discuss your obstetric records.”
Grace’s fear returned.
“What about them?”
“There are notes in the electronic chart indicating concerns about paranoia and emotional instability.”
“I never discussed paranoia.”
“We noticed.”
“Who entered them?”
Dr. Patel looked uncomfortable.
“Dr. Keller.”
Grace gripped the blanket.
“He wrote that?”
“Multiple entries.”
Rebecca asked:
“Dates?”
Dr. Patel handed her a printout.
The first entry was eleven weeks earlier.
Patient expresses unfounded suspicion regarding spouse’s financial activities.
The second:
Mood increasingly labile. Husband reports episodes of confusion.
The third:
Consider psychiatric consultation if symptoms worsen.
Grace stared.
Dr. Patel continued.
“There are no corresponding psychiatric assessments.”
“Because I didn’t need one.”
“I understand.”
Charles’s voice was low.
“Where is Keller?”
Rebecca answered.
“He canceled his office hours today.”
“Find him.”
“We’re trying.”
The hospital suspended Keller’s privileges pending review.
By afternoon, police had executed a warrant at his private office.
They found $175,000 in payments from a consulting company linked to Price Meridian.
The payments were labeled maternal-health advisory fees.
Grace had never heard of the arrangement.
Then they found draft paperwork.
A petition for temporary conservatorship.
Petitioner:
Nolan Price.
Supporting physician:
Dr. Adrian Keller.
The petition had not yet been filed.
But it was nearly complete.
It alleged that Grace had developed pregnancy-related psychiatric instability, paranoia, reckless financial behavior, and an inability to manage her own assets.
Attached was the healthcare proxy she said she never signed.
Also attached were screenshots of messages between Grace and Nolan.
Real messages.
But selectively edited.
In one exchange, Grace wrote:
I feel like everyone is watching me.
The message looked paranoid in isolation.
The full conversation was about paparazzi outside a charity gala.
Another said:
Sometimes I don’t know if I can trust anyone.
That one came after Grace discovered someone inside Price Meridian had leaked confidential board data.
Every sentence had been removed from its context.
Rebecca laid the documents across the hospital table.
“They were going to file this.”
“When?”
“Likely after the wedding-related trust vote next week.”
Grace stared.
The timeline became horrifyingly clear.
Nolan needed her trust authorization immediately.
If she signed voluntarily, he won.
If she refused, the conservatorship petition became the backup.
He would present medical notes.
Edited messages.
Video of Grace sedated and confused.
Claims from her husband.
Support from her obstetrician.
Then someone would argue that temporary control was necessary for her protection.
“And Sloane?” Grace asked.
Rebecca pulled out another page.
Draft corporate announcement.
Price Meridian Holdings Announces Temporary Leadership Transition During Nolan Price Family Medical Leave.
Sloane Avery was listed as interim chief operating officer.
Grace almost laughed.
“They were both going to survive my breakdown.”
Rebecca’s expression remained cold.
“Yes.”
“And after?”
“We don’t know.”
Grace did.
She remembered messages between Nolan and Sloane.
Once the trust closes, we can stop pretending.
Another:
She’ll hate the clinic, but it buys us time.
Grace had assumed clinic referred to prenatal care.
Now she understood.
A psychiatric clinic.
They intended to institutionalize her.
The baby moved beneath her hands.
Grace looked down.
The room blurred.
Charles stood immediately.
“Grace?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
She looked up.
“They were going to take my baby.”
Rebecca said nothing.
That silence confirmed it.
If Grace had been declared incompetent after delivery, Nolan could have attempted to control access to their child.
Maybe temporarily.
Maybe longer.
But even temporary was unbearable.
“I want a divorce.”
Charles closed his eyes.
Not from surprise.
Relief.
Rebecca asked:
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then we file today.”
“No waiting period to see what Nolan says?”
“No.”
Grace looked directly at her.
“I spent three years trying to understand what he meant. I’m done.”
The divorce petition was filed at 4:30 p.m.
It included requests for temporary exclusive occupancy of trust-owned property, preservation of assets, restrictions on transfer of marital funds, and temporary protective provisions pending investigation.
At 5:12, Nolan’s attorney called Rebecca.
He offered a private meeting.
Grace refused.
At 5:40, another offer arrived.
Nolan would agree to leave the estate and withdraw any claim to Grace’s family trust if Grace signed a confidentiality agreement and publicly described the outdoor incident as a marital misunderstanding.
Grace laughed.
Rebecca smiled.
“That’s a no?”
“Send him something polite.”
Rebecca typed:
No.
Grace nodded.
“Perfect.”
At 7:00, Charles left briefly to shower and change.
Grace remained with Rebecca.
The room was dim.
Rain had replaced snow.
Then Grace’s phone—her replacement phone—buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Sloane.
Standing in what looked like a hotel bathroom.
No makeup.
Hair pulled back.
Terrified.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
Grace, Nolan lied to me too. I have everything.
A second message followed.
He knows where I am.
Then:
If something happens to me, the file goes to you.
Rebecca grabbed the phone.
“Don’t answer.”
Grace stared at Sloane’s frightened face.
The woman who had slept with her husband.
Helped hide money.
Discussed replacing her.
Grace should have hated her.
She did.
But fear was fear.
And Grace recognized it now.
“She’s not asking for forgiveness.”
“No.”
“She’s asking for survival.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“What do you want to do?”
Grace remembered the snow.
The locked doors.
The pendant.
How terrifying it felt to realize nobody could hear you.
“Find her.”
Rebecca nodded once.
May you like
Then Grace added:
“Before Nolan does.”
