She nodded as if she understood the difference between proof and truth.
“Has this happened before?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
I looked toward Michael.
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Years,” I whispered.
The detective asked a few more questions. Not too many. Not enough to break me open completely. She explained that an evidence technician would document the visible injuries with consent, that a protective order could be requested, that an advocate could help with immediate safety planning.
Then she said something that made the air change.
“We also need to discuss the possibility that this may connect to your company’s financial records.”
Michael straightened. “How would you know that?”
Detective Mills paused.
It was brief, but I saw it.
She knew something.
“Your attorney contacted our financial crimes unit earlier this week,” she said.
My heart began to pound.
“My attorney?”
“Yes. Daniel Reeves.”
Daniel.
The careful man with silver hair and half-moon glasses. My father’s former legal associate. The only attorney I trusted because he had known me when I still wore braces and believed courtrooms were places where truth always won.
I had not asked him to contact the police.
“What did he say?” I asked.
Detective Mills studied my face. “You didn’t know?”
“No.”
Michael’s voice sharpened. “What did he say?”
“He requested a confidential meeting,” she replied. “He said he had reason to believe a corporate officer at Carter-Bennett Holdings was preparing to destroy records connected to financial misconduct.”
“When?” I asked.
“Yesterday morning.”
The room tilted slightly.
Yesterday morning, Daniel had left me a voicemail saying he needed to speak with me urgently.
I never called him back.
By evening, Ryan knew about the audit.
“Detective,” I said, “have you spoken to Daniel today?”
Her expression changed again.
Not dramatically. But enough.
“No,” she said. “We’ve been trying to reach him since noon.”
A chill moved through me that had nothing to do with the hospital air.
Michael saw my face. “Emma?”
“Daniel never misses calls,” I whispered.
Detective Mills stood. “We’re already checking on him.”
“Checking how?”
“I can’t discuss active steps, but we are taking it seriously.”
That should have reassured me.
It didn’t.
Because I knew Ryan.
He didn’t act unless he believed he had already closed the exits.
Later, after Detective Mills left, Michael stepped into the hallway to speak with her. Priya stayed with me, helping adjust the bed, offering water through a straw.
“You did very well,” she said.
