Chapter 8 - THE BLUE ROOMI had spent years believing that Arthur was predictable.
He wanted money.
Status.
Women.
Power.
But the photograph changed that assumption.
If Arthur had been hiding something connected to Chloe's illness, then his betrayal wasn't simply selfishness.
There was another layer.
I called Marcus at six in the morning.
"I need access to Arthur's prison visitation records."
Marcus didn't ask why.
He simply said:
"I'll arrange it."
Three hours later, we were sitting across from Arthur in a private attorney visitation room.
He looked different.
Thinner.
Older.
The confidence was gone.
His prison uniform made him look ordinary.
Almost harmless.
Almost.
Then he saw me.
"Eleanor."
I sat down.
"Who is the man in this photograph?"
He looked at the image.
His expression changed.
I noticed immediately.
"You know him."
Arthur looked away.
"Where did you get that?"
"Answer me."
He swallowed.
"His name is Daniel Crowe."
"Who is he?"
"A consultant."
"For what?"
"Medical logistics."
I felt my pulse accelerate.
"Did you know about Chloe's medical records?"
Arthur closed his eyes.
"Eleanor..."
"Did you?"
He didn't answer.
I slammed the photograph onto the table.
"Your daughter died."
His face tightened.
"I know."
"You weren't there."
"I know."
"You lied about the trip."
"I know."
"You destroyed our marriage."
"I know."
"Now tell me the truth."
He finally looked at me.
"I didn't know she was going to die."
"I didn't ask that."
Silence.
"Did you know someone was monitoring her?"
Arthur's eyes widened.
"How do you know?"
I leaned forward.
"Because I know about the missing sample."
He became pale.
"Who told you?"
"Dr. Vance."
Arthur lowered his voice.
"Then you're in danger."
Marcus shifted beside me.
"Explain."
Arthur looked around.
"Not here."
"Then where?"
"The blue room."
My heart stopped.
"Where is it?"
"Sterling's old medical distribution warehouse."
"Why is it called the blue room?"
"Because the entire room was painted blue."
"What was inside?"
Arthur looked down.
"Records."
"What records?"
"Everything."
I stared at him.
"Everything about what?"
"Payments."
"To whom?"
"Doctors."
"Why?"
"To keep certain things quiet."
I felt sick.
"Did my father know?"
Arthur shook his head.
"No."
"Did you?"
"I knew pieces."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked at me.
"For the same reason I lied about everything else."
I laughed bitterly.
"Because you're a coward?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
For once, he didn't defend himself.
"Then tell me the whole truth."
Arthur leaned closer.
"Before Chloe got sick, I was investigating someone inside the company."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I'm telling you the truth."
"Why?"
"Because the person who was moving money wasn't stealing it."
I frowned.
"What were they doing?"
"Funding private research."
"Research into what?"
Arthur whispered:
"Immune suppression."
The room went silent.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Where is the blue room?"
Arthur gave me an address.
Then he said:
"Don't go alone."
I stood.
He grabbed my wrist.
For a moment, I almost pulled away.
Then he whispered:
"Eleanor."
I looked at him.
"I'm sorry."
It was the first time he had said those words without anger.
I didn't forgive him.
But I heard him.
Outside the prison, Marcus looked at me.
"You believe him?"
"I believe he knows something."
"And the blue room?"
"We're going."
That afternoon, we arrived at the old warehouse.
The building had been abandoned for years.
Inside, everything smelled like dust and chemicals.
We found the room at the end of a corridor.
The walls were blue.
A single metal cabinet stood against one wall.
Marcus opened it.
Inside were dozens of files.
Medical records.
Financial transfers.
Photographs.
Names.
I pulled out the first folder.
Then froze.
It had Chloe's name on it.
Underneath was a handwritten note.
SUBJECT: C-17
My hands began shaking.
"What does C-17 mean?"
Marcus didn't answer.
He was staring at another file.
"What?"
He turned it toward me.
The file contained one sentence.
PROJECT CHLOE — ACTIVE.
My knees nearly gave out.
My daughter hadn't been a random victim.
May you like
Someone had been studying her.
And whatever Project Chloe was, it had started long before she became sick.
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