Taylor wiped his eyes.
Then restarted the engine.
They reached Eleanor Walsh’s Georgetown townhouse at six twenty-three.
The front door was open.
Taylor stopped before exiting.
Victoria saw it.
“That’s wrong.”
“You expected locked?”
“Always.”
Taylor reached for his phone.
“Police.”
Victoria caught his wrist.
“Wait.”
“No.”
“What if Gregory has someone inside?”
“Exactly.”
“Police response becomes public.”
Taylor stared.
“And?”
“If the board thinks I’m involved in a violent incident hours before a capacity vote—”
Taylor pulled his hand free.
“You are still thinking like a CEO.”
“Yes.”
“I’m thinking like a father whose house just got visited by men from your company.”
Victoria said nothing.
Taylor called 911.
Police arrived in four minutes.
Eleanor Walsh was inside.
Alive.
Barely.
A housekeeper found her unconscious in an upstairs study.
She had suffered what initially appeared to be a stroke.
Then paramedics noticed a bruise behind her ear.
Possible assault.
Victoria watched from the sidewalk as Eleanor was carried out.
Her face went white.
Taylor stood beside her.
“Still want to handle this privately?”
“No.”
“Good.”
A detective approached.
Victoria gave her name.
That changed the scene immediately.
Taylor hated how quickly status altered behavior.
He understood now why it had bothered Victoria when Megan first came to her.
Power could open doors.
It could also distort every room you entered.
The detective took preliminary statements.
Victoria carefully omitted Meridian until she could speak with federal investigators.
Taylor disliked that.
He said so.
She nodded.
“You’re right.”
Then she told the detective there was potential corporate criminal conduct.
That surprised him.
Small progress.
By seven thirty, Victoria’s toxicology screen came back.
Sedative.
Not enough to prove who administered it.
Enough to prove she had not simply become drunk.
Rachel forwarded the result.
Victoria called the board’s general counsel from the detective’s phone.
The emergency meeting was postponed.
Gregory objected.
Victoria formally disclosed suspected poisoning.
That forced outside counsel involvement.
At eight fifteen, Gregory Pierce disappeared.
His driver said Gregory dismissed him at midnight.
His penthouse was empty.
Phone off.
The black SUV seen outside Taylor’s townhouse was registered to a corporate security vendor.
The vendor claimed two employees had been asked to retrieve “company property” from Taylor.
What property?
No answer.
By noon, federal investigators entered the case.
Not because Victoria was rich.
Not because Taylor was important.
Because Meridian involved government medical contracts and potential obstruction across state lines.
The first federal investigator who met Taylor introduced herself as Special Agent Dana Brooks.
Fifty.
Calm.
Minimal patience for drama.
Taylor liked her immediately.
They sat inside a conference room at the U.S. Attorney’s Office.
Victoria sat across.
Her clothes from the gala had been replaced with a simple navy suit someone from her office delivered under police supervision.
Taylor still wore the same shirt from the night before.
Dana placed the silver locket on the table inside an evidence bag.
“Mr. Hayes, I need you to understand something.”
Taylor nodded.
“We are reopening your wife’s disappearance as potentially connected.”
His throat tightened.
“But that does not mean we know she is alive or dead.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
Dana nodded.
“Better answer.”
She looked toward Victoria.
“Ms. Hawthorne, you withheld potentially material information from law enforcement seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You understand that?”
“Yes.”
“You could face legal exposure.”
Taylor looked toward Victoria.
She did not flinch.
“Yes.”
“Why come forward now?”
Victoria glanced at Taylor.
“Because waiting made everything worse.”
Dana nodded.
“That is not a legal defense.”