Chapter 5 - THE MONEY I NEVER TOOK|
The receipt arrived in my email at 9:17 the following morning.
It was attached to a message from Mara Feld, the attorney Nora had referred me to.
I was sitting at Rosa's kitchen table, drinking coffee I couldn't taste.
Lily was upstairs resting.
Mara had asked for permission to contact me directly because the document involved my personal medical history.
I opened the attachment.
And almost dropped my phone.
At the top was a heading that read, "Living Donor Compensation Agreement."
Beneath it was my full name.
Claire Elizabeth Mercer.
The document claimed I had received seventy-five thousand dollars in exchange for donating a kidney to Lily.
There was a signature at the bottom.
Mine.
Or something designed to look like mine.
I stared at the amount.
Seventy-five thousand dollars.
Daniel had convinced our daughter that I was abandoning her.
He had tried to take my mother's house.
And now he was claiming I'd demanded money to save the child I'd raised.
My hands began trembling.
Rosa walked into the kitchen.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
I turned the screen toward her.
She read the document.
Then she looked at me.
"Claire, this is a lie."
"I know."
"Does Lily know?"
I shook my head.
"I don't want her waking up to another nightmare."
Rosa pulled out a chair.
"Then we're going to handle this carefully."
An hour later, I met Mara at her downtown office.
She was in her early fifties, with short dark hair and a calm manner that made me feel safe enough to speak.
She didn't immediately ask about Daniel.
Instead, she asked whether I'd eaten breakfast.
When I admitted I hadn't, she pushed a small plate of crackers toward me.
"You're still recovering, Claire."
I almost laughed.
Apparently, strangers were now reminding me to take care of myself.
My own husband had forgotten how.
Mara examined the receipt.
"Do you recognize this account number?"
I leaned closer.
"No."
"Do you recognize the company listed as the payment processor?"
I shook my head again.
She pointed toward the bottom.
"Mercer Consulting Services."
My stomach tightened.
Daniel owned that company.
He had started it three years earlier, telling me it handled financial planning for healthcare organizations.
I had never been involved in its operations.
"What does this mean?"
"It means we need to find out whether money actually moved and who received it."
She paused.
"But there's something important you should understand."
I looked up.
"A kidney cannot legally be sold in the United States."
I nodded.
"I know."
"Certain expenses associated with living donation can be reimbursed, but that's different from purchasing an organ."
She turned the paper toward me.
"This document is describing something very different."
I stared at my supposed signature.
"Then why would Daniel create it?"
Mara folded her hands.
"That's what we need to discover."
Later that afternoon, Lily accompanied me to the hospital.
We had both arranged appointments to speak with the appropriate members of our transplant teams.
For the first time since surgery, we arrived together.
Lily held my hand while we waited.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Can someone really take a kidney back?"
I turned toward her.
My heart hurt more than my incision ever had.
"No, sweetheart."
"But Dad said—"
"I know what he said."
I held her face between my hands.
"Once a kidney has been transplanted, it isn't something a donor can demand back because of a disagreement."
She stared at me.
"So he was lying about that, too?"
"Yes."
Her eyes filled.
"I was so scared."
I pulled her into a careful embrace.
"I know, baby."
Then Lily whispered something that would stay with me forever.
"I thought loving you could kill me."
I closed my eyes.
There are lies that embarrass a person.
There are lies that destroy a marriage.
And then there are lies that make a child afraid of loving the person who raised her.
Daniel had chosen the third kind.
At the hospital, we each authorized the release of our own relevant medical information to Mara.
My donor coordinator, Dr. Rebecca Chen, confirmed that my donation had been voluntary.
She also explained that the transplant center had not created or approved the supposed compensation agreement.
The signature didn't belong to any consent form in my official donor file.
That confirmation brought me my first real breath of relief.
But Mara wasn't finished.
She asked about a separate entry in the paperwork.
A reimbursement request for recovery-related expenses.
Dr. Chen explained that legitimate assistance programs could help qualifying donors with certain costs.
I remembered applying for help with lost wages because I'd been unable to return to part-time work.
But the amount approved had been a small fraction of the figure on Daniel's receipt.
And I had never authorized any payment to his company.
Mara wrote everything down.
When we left the hospital, Lily looked exhausted but determined.
"I want Dad to answer for this."
I squeezed her hand.
"So do I."
That evening, my phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar.
I almost ignored it.
Then a woman's voice spoke.
"Mrs. Mercer?"
"Yes?"
"My name is Grace Holloway."
She hesitated.
"I used to work for your husband's consulting company."
I sat upright.
"Why are you calling?"
"Because I saw what happened at Mr. Valenti's dinner."
My heart began pounding.
Grace sounded frightened.
"I've been trying to decide whether to contact you."
"About what?"
She took a shaky breath.
"Your husband didn't create that receipt to collect seventy-five thousand dollars from you."
I looked toward Rosa.
"Then why did he create it?"
Grace was silent for several seconds.
Finally, she whispered:
"Because he needed someone to blame when a much larger amount of money disappeared."
My blood ran cold.
"How much money?"
She answered so quietly that I almost didn't hear her.
"Six hundred thousand dollars."
May you like
Then she added something even worse.
"And Mrs. Mercer, the documents say you authorized the transfer."
