Chapter 5: Tears and Transactions
Two days later, my phone buzzed with an unknown landline number. Recognizing the prefix for Westwood Medical, I pressed record before answering.
“Clara? It’s me. Audrey.”
Her voice was breathy, fragile, laced with a practiced tremor. I said nothing, letting the silence stretch until it became a physical weight.
“I know you probably hate me,” Audrey whimpered, the sound of fake tears wet against the receiver. “I just wanted to apologize. I swear to you, I had no idea Declan diverted your blood to me until yesterday.”
“If you truly knew nothing,” I said, my voice flat and devoid of empathy, “why did you initiate this call by explaining the exact thing you claim ignorance of?”
The fake crying hitched, stumbling over its own script. “Clara, must you be so ruthless? I almost died. Whatever Declan chose to do, he was just trying to save a life.”
“Did he want to save a life, Audrey, or did he want to save your life? There is a profound difference. If it were standard protocol, the medical board would have made the call. Instead, my husband used his absolute authority to override the system specifically for you.”
“I just wanted to live!” she cried, abandoning the innocent act and pivoting to emotional blackmail. “You are his wife. You’ve had him for seven years. What did I do wrong by wanting to survive?”
I stared at the sterile ceiling. You’ve had him for seven years. There it was. The entitlement of the “one who got away.” She viewed my marriage, my life, and my blood as communal resources she could tap into because of her historical claim on my husband.
“Audrey, let’s talk about resources,” I said coldly. “Who arranged your placement in VIP Room 3?”
“The… the hospital.”
“And who fronted the exorbitant daily costs for your private nursing?” I pressed. “Did Declan use the hospital’s Charitable Aid Foundation to waive your fees?”
I could hear her breath catch.
“I built that charity,” I continued, unleashing the trap I had laid. “Recipients must provide documented proof of extreme financial hardship. You are the heiress to the Snow family fortune. Which poverty metric do you meet, Audrey?”
She panicked, her voice turning venomous. “You are going to destroy him over petty jealousy! He hasn’t slept in days. He knows you won’t leave him, Clara. He knows you’re just throwing a fit to get his attention.”
Before I could obliterate her, the door to my room flew open. Declan stormed in, phone in hand, looking like a man pushed to the brink of insanity. He saw me holding my phone.
“Who are you talking to?” he demanded.
I put the phone on speaker. Audrey’s voice filled the room. “Declan! I was just trying to apologize to Clara, but she’s being so cruel—”
Declan’s face hardened. He looked at me with absolute disgust. “Clara, her blood pressure just dropped. She is emotionally fragile. Take your resentment out on me, not her.”
“She called me,” I said evenly. “Would you like to hear what she actually said?”
I tapped the screen, playing the recording from three minutes prior. Audrey’s voice echoed in the room: “You’ve had him for seven years. I just wanted to live… He knows you won’t leave him.”
Declan’s expression faltered, the righteous anger draining from his face as he heard the manipulative venom in Audrey’s voice.
“Clara… you recorded her?” Audrey shrieked through the speaker.
“I record everything now,” I said, looking directly at Declan. “Ever since I realized my husband’s word is worth nothing.”
Declan lunged for the phone, his instinct to protect Audrey overriding his shock. “Audrey, calm down. I’m coming to your room.”
He hung up my phone. The betrayal was complete. Even presented with her blatant manipulation, his first instinct was to run to her aid.
“Go,” I said, pointing to the door. “But know this, Declan. I just sent Sloan an order to officially audit Audrey Snow’s charitable aid application. We finally caught you.”
He froze in the doorway, the color fully leeching from his skin. He realized, in that singular moment, that this was no longer a marital dispute. It was a corporate and legal execution.
