Chapter 5 - The Friend Who Knew Too Much
Her name was Caroline Voss.
She had retired from hospital communications four years earlier after a compliance review unrelated to me.
I remembered her as charming, exacting, and unusually interested in executive appointments.
My father admitted Caroline had been a close friend of Mom's since their college years.
"Paula always called her when hospital news came on television," he said.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it mattered."
At nine the next morning, our general counsel, Daniel Reed, examined the photographed letter.
"We have to distinguish a family dispute from a potential document fraud issue," he warned.
"Agreed," I said.
"An independently retained investigator can handle the letter. Keep it away from the cyber response unless evidence connects them."
He nodded.
Within hours, Caroline left a voicemail on my personal phone.
"Natalie, sweetheart, your mother is upset, and this has gone far enough."
The warmth in her voice sounded rehearsed.
"If you issue a simple clarification about your role, everybody can have a peaceful New Year."
I saved the message.
I did not call her back.
Then Erin arrived unannounced at the hospital's public entrance.
She wore a winter coat over clothes she'd clearly slept in.
"Mom is telling everyone Matthew might lose his job because of you," she said.
"His employment isn't mine to decide."
"I know that now."
Her hands shook.
"She called twelve relatives before breakfast."
Erin showed me messages accusing me of using the ransomware attack to manufacture publicity.
She swiped to another.
There was Caroline's name.
In the thread, Caroline had instructed my mother to circulate the false letter before the hospital could correct it.
"Please tell me that's illegal," Erin whispered.
"It's evidence of something," I said.
"We'll let people qualified to assess it decide what."
Erin began to cry.
I wanted to embrace her, but a memory stopped me.
She had watched Mom humiliate me for years and stayed quiet.
"I need you to decide whether you're here for the truth or to protect your new house from family embarrassment," I said.
She looked up.
"I don't know how to fix this."
"Then start by not hiding anything else."
She reached into her pocket and gave me an envelope.
"This was taped underneath Mom's desk drawer."
On the front, in Caroline's handwriting, were three words.
May you like
"For Matthew's future."
