All Chapters of Threesome With My Husband And His Brother : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The family doctor's name was Dr. Philip Crane and he had been the Hartwell family physician for nineteen years.Torres subpoenaed his records before noon. By two in the afternoon the documents were at the field office and Grace was sitting across a table from Torres and a medical liaison named Dr. Osei who had been brought in to interpret what they were looking at.Grace had asked Aiden to wait outside. Not because she did not want him there. Because she needed to hear this without watching his face while she heard it, and she needed to be the first person in the room who knew, so she could decide for herself what she was going to do with knowing.Dr. Osei went through the records methodically. His voice was careful and quiet, the voice of someone who understood that the information he was delivering was not abstract.Two appointments in the relevant month. The first, routine. Blood pressure, general examination, nothing notable. The second, eleven days later. A prescription issued. N

Rachel's flat was on the fourth floor of a building Grace had been to a dozen times. Dinner parties, late-night strategy sessions, the occasional Sunday morning when they had gone through case notes over coffee and Rachel's very good scrambled eggs.She knew the flat well enough to know when something in it was wrong.Rachel opened the door before Grace could knock. She had clearly been standing close to it, waiting. She looked different from the last time Grace had seen her — not physically, but in the quality of her stillness. The composed, forward-leaning energy that defined her had pulled back into itself, leaving something quieter and less certain in its place."Come in," she said.Grace came in.They sat in the living room. Rachel had not made tea, had not offered anything, which told Grace more than anything else how unusual this was. Rachel always made tea. It was the thing she did with her hands when she was thinking, the ritual that gave her a moment to organise herself befo

The hospital footage arrived at Torres's office at nine the following morning.He sent Grace a thirty-second clip without preamble.She watched it twice at the kitchen table with Aiden beside her. The quality was the flat, overexposed grey of internal security systems — functional rather than cinematic. Richard Hartwell's private room. A hospital bed. The pale equipment along the wall. Richard himself, sitting up at the head of the bed with perfect steadiness, no oxygen, no distress monitor attached, talking to Catherine who sat in the chair at his side with her coat still on as if she had not intended to stay long.Richard was gesturing. Not dramatically. The relaxed, illustrative gestures of a man in the middle of a point he was comfortable making.Catherine leaned forward. Said something. Richard paused. Then he said something back and she sat back in her chair and the quality of her stillness shifted into something that looked very much like relief.The clip ended.There was no au

The interview room at the station was small and fluorescent and smelled faintly of the kind of institutional cleaning product that never quite masked what it was covering. Grace had been in enough of these rooms over the past months that she no longer noticed the smell until she was already seated.Sophia was on the other side of the table.She looked different from the woman Grace had known for seven years. Not older exactly — though there was something in her face that had not been there before, a quality of having passed through something and come out knowing things she had not known going in. She was thinner. Her hair was shorter, cut close to her jaw in a way that made her look more angular and less careful than she used to be. She had always been careful with her appearance in the particular way of a woman who understood that appearance was a form of armour.She had clearly stopped thinking about armour.She looked at Grace when she came in and she did not look away and she did

The property management company had twelve employees and a registered address in the financial district and had been managing Aiden's building for two years.Floyd had a full background check on every member of staff by seven the following morning. Grace read through it at the kitchen table while Aiden made coffee and the building outside the window went about its ordinary early business, people with bags and dogs and takeout cups moving through the street below in the cold grey light.The current building manager was a man named Carl Webb. Forty-one. Previously employed by a hotel chain in Frankfurt and a residential complex in Zurich. Clean record. Excellent references. Both references, when Floyd called them at six in the morning, were answered by people who confirmed his employment in the particular smooth way of people who had been briefed on what to confirm.Floyd had flagged them both as potentially fabricated.The property management company itself traced back through two hold