Page 15 of Free to Believe
It ended up being Dr. Whitacre’s attorney who did.
We are all silent as she follows her attorney into the conference room. “My client has something to say before we get down to business. Corey.” He nods.
She clears her throat. Her face is haunted. “I apologize. He told me things had ended…”
Cutting her off before she can go any further, I raise my hand. “That’s not why we’re here today.”
Her head drops. “That’s not the kind of person I am,” she whispers.
My eyes go to Colby’s in the corner. He shakes his head. While I won’t discuss Bryan, I will give her this. “It may not be you, but it is him. My advice?” Her head comes up, and I see her eyes are rimmed with red tears. “Find yourself again, Dr. Whitacre. Then move on.”
She nods. Taking a deep breath, she says, “Bryan told me he had a special dress for me to wear…”
* * *
Corey Whitacre wasa fountain of knowledge. By the time she was done being questioned, I figured out the timeline as to when this occurred. I now feel more foolish than ever because this was ultimately my fault.
About a month ago, I left Bryan in my studio fuming over an argument we had about my lack of understanding of what was involved in being a surgeon’s wife when a frantic bride came in due to a torn train. My portfolio was lying on my desk—a mistake I’ll never make ever again. As I was frantically sewing up the bride’s dress, Bryan must have lifted the sketch.
I don’t know what made him do it. I may never know. But if I’m infuriated with him, I’m disgusted with myself. My sketches are my heart and soul. I shouldn’t have been so careless.
Before Dr. Whitacre left, she stopped in front of me. “I am truly, sorry, Ms. Freeman. For everything.”
Knowing she likely has the least to be apologetic for, I nod. “Thank you for helping us.”
“Come on, Corey.” Her attorney lays a proprietary hand on her back. Holly, who’s been standing next to me, elbows me in the ribs. No, I’m not immune to the vibe there. With time, maybe Dr. Whitacre will heal enough to see what’s waiting for her.
After the conference room doors close, I let out a sigh of relief. “What’s next?”
Ali leans back in her chair. “With the information Dr. Whitacre was able to provide to us about where she went for her fittings, we sic the guys on the money trail. Then, if we can’t settle, we go before the judge.”
I mull that over for a few minutes. “She didn’t deserve for that to happen to her.”
Ali glares. “Neither did you.”
“It was my mistake in leaving my portfolio out,” I admit quietly.
“In front of someone you were supposed to be able to trust? No judge is going to fault you for that.” Ali stands and stretches. “This won’t see the inside of a courtroom.”
“How do you know?” My other siblings are in various states of relaxation around the room.
“Because—” Ali smiles knowingly. “—Dr. Moser won’t like the repercussions if I go forward with the suit.”
* * *
Ali wasn’t wrong.
Once she had all the evidence in her hands, the news media picked up the case and it became public. Very public. There’s both a curse and a blessing to small-town newspapers.
Greenwich Hospital found out and called their head of neurology in before the board and advised he was under suspension for failing to conduct himself in accordance with the ethical standards outlined in his contract. Pending the outcome of the investigation, he would either be reinstated or terminated.
As Caleb had an acquaintance who sits on the hospital board, he let him know Bryan panicked in the meeting. Ali was contacted within a few days by Bryan’s attorney. In it was a detailed statement of the actions Bryan had committed when he stole my dress design. It contained the name of the designer who was previously been accused of copying my work in the past with no proof. And now we have a notorized statement that can bring that son of a bitch down. There was also a terse apology at the bottom that I dismissed immediately because it was likely something Bryan’s attorney recommended.
Ali turned the lawsuit focus toward the designer with guns blazing.
I don’t know what to feel other than disgust I was taken in by such a man combined with an overwhelming relief that I could put this in the past and move on.
But to what, I have no idea.
