Chapter 5 - THE WORST CAREGIVER IN VANCOUVER
Her name was Ruth Bell.
Sixty-three years old.
Former trauma nurse.
Former military medic.
Current destroyer of entitled patients, according to the internet.
The dispatcher described her differently.
“Ruth has excellent clinical outcomes.”
“Then why does everyone hate her?”
“Because Ruth believes adults should participate in their own recovery.”
I thought of Tristan.
“She’s perfect.”
I paid for five days.
Double rate.
Plus transportation.
The next morning, Tristan called.
He didn’t say hello.
“What did you do?”
I smiled into my coffee.
“Good morning.”
“This woman is insane.”
In the background, I heard a woman’s voice.
“Mr. Hale, if you can yell that loudly, you can use the breathing spirometer.”
Tristan lowered his voice.
“She confiscated my room-service menu.”
“Why?”
“Because apparently a bottle of wine isn’t appropriate with oxycodone.”
“That sounds medically reasonable.”
“She made me dress myself.”
“You have one functioning arm.”
“Exactly.”
“Ruth seems resourceful.”
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
That was true.
Funny would have been harmless.
This was something better.
It was Tristan discovering that care did not mean obedience.
Then Ruth’s voice came through clearly.
“Sir, your wife hired a caregiver. Not a butler.”
The line went dead.
I slept better that night than I had in months.
The next afternoon, Vanessa called me.
I almost didn’t answer.
Then I remembered she was injured too.
“Hello?”
“Reese?”
Her voice was weak.
“Yes.”
“I need to say something before Tristan tells you I’m trying to manipulate you.”
I sat down.
“Go ahead.”
“I didn’t know you were still together.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Another truth waiting under the previous one.
“He told you we were separated.”
“For almost a year.”
“We had dinner together six months ago.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“He told me you were trying to keep appearances for Eli.”
I remembered that dinner.
Vanessa smiling at me across my own table.
Had she thought I was a pathetic wife pretending?
Or had she believed she was helping maintain a secret arrangement?
“I’m not asking you to believe me.”
“Did you know about Eli’s money?”
“No.”
“Insurance?”
“No.”
“His job?”
There was a silence.
“I knew he left the company.”
That stung.
“You knew more about my husband’s life than I did.”
“Yes.”
At least she did not insult me by denying it.
“Why did he leave?”
“Tristan told me he resigned because his division was being investigated.”
“For what?”
“Expense irregularities and forged reimbursement claims.”
My chest tightened.
“He said a subordinate had done it.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
That answer was painfully human.
Vanessa continued.
“I paid for Vancouver.”
“What?”
“The flights. Hotel. Rental car.”
I stared at the wall.
“The first-class tickets?”
“My points.”
The story I had built shifted.
Tristan had not taken Eli’s money to buy those tickets.
That did not make him innocent.
It made his lies more complicated.
“What did he use the medical account money for?”
“I don’t know.”
Then I heard Ruth in the background.
“Ms. Cole, five minutes. Doctor said no screen time if the headache returns.”
Vanessa sighed.
“I’m afraid of her.”
“I think everyone is.”
“She’s also the reason I called.”
“What happened?”
“Ruth found something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“She was organizing Tristan’s medication bag because he mixed two bottles.”
“That sounds like him.”
“She found the check.”
I sat straighter.
“The ten thousand?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He tried to tear it up.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
“What?”
“Ruth stopped him.”
“How?”
A faint laugh escaped Vanessa.
“She told him if he used his injured arm to destroy his child’s hospital money, she would document the behavior in her care notes.”
That sounded exactly like the woman I had hired without meeting.
“Where is the check now?”
“Ruth put it in the hotel safe.”
“Can she send it to me?”
“It’s payable directly to the hospital. She said she can courier it with Tristan’s written authorization.”
“He won’t give it.”
“No.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Then I’m back where I started.”
“Maybe not.”
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“I saw the front of the check.”
“So?”
“The issuer isn’t Tristan.”
My pulse changed.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s from the Mercer Children’s Medical Assistance Fund.”
I had never heard of it.
Vanessa continued.
“Ruth called the number printed on the check while I was sitting here.”
I stood.
“She did what?”
“She didn’t give them private details. She only verified that the organization exists.”
“And?”
“Reese, Tristan didn’t arrange that money.”
I gripped the back of the chair.
“Who did?”
“You.”
I laughed from pure confusion.
“I’ve never contacted them.”
“They said the assistance application was submitted under your name.”
My skin went cold.
Vanessa kept talking.
“And the check can’t be canceled by Tristan.”
I stopped moving.
“What?”
“It belongs to the hospital once issued. He lied.”
The threat that had kept me awake all night evaporated in one sentence.
But Vanessa wasn’t finished.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The fund representative said somebody contacted them yesterday and tried to redirect the payment.”
“Redirect it where?”
“To a personal account.”
My stomach turned.
“Whose?”
“They wouldn’t tell Ruth.”
I already knew.
Or thought I did.
Then Vanessa said the part that changed everything.
“The request wasn’t made in Tristan’s name.”
May you like
She paused.
“It was signed with yours.”
