Chapter 92 The Call
After Clara left the hospital that evening, she did not allow herself the comfort of hesitation. The corridor still carried the faint scent of antiseptic on her clothes, and Peter’s last words echoed in her mind with stubborn clarity. Together. He had said it as though the word could guard them from everything.
Outside, the sky had already begun to dim. She stood beside the hospital gate, her hand resting unconsciously over the gentle curve of her stomach. The baby shifted faintly, or perhaps she imagined it. Either way, it felt like a reminder that delay was no longer harmless.
She reached into her bag and took out her phone.
For a few seconds she only stared at the number she had quietly slipped to her phone days ago. A private investigator.
Reliable. Expensive.
Clara inhaled slowly and pressed call.
The line rang twice.
“Hello.” The voice on the other end was calm, measured, neither too warm nor distant.
She swallowed. “Good evening. My name is Clara. I was given your contact regarding… investigative services.”
A brief pause. Not suspicious. Calculating.
“Yes, Miss. How may I assist you?”
The steadiness of his tone unsettled her slightly. She had expected something sharper, something dramatic. Instead, he sounded like a man discussing routine business.
“I would prefer not to explain everything over the phone,” she said carefully. “Can we meet somewhere private? Public, but private.”
Another pause, shorter this time. “Tomorrow. Eleven in the morning. There’s a small coffee shop on Harrington Street. Quiet. Do you know it?”
“I do.”
“Ask for Daniel Reed.”
So that was his name.
“I’ll be there,” she replied.
The call ended without pleasantries.
Clara lowered the phone slowly. There was no turning back now.
The next morning, the coffee shop smelled of roasted beans and warm pastry. It was the kind of place where conversations blended into a low murmur, where no one paid attention to anyone else for long.
Clara arrived ten minutes early. She chose a table near the corner, her back to the wall. Old habit. She was not sure when she had started thinking about exits and sightlines, but pregnancy had sharpened her instincts rather than softened them.
At exactly eleven, a man stepped inside.
He was not what she expected. Mid-thirties, perhaps. Simple navy shirt, sleeves folded neatly. No exaggerated caution in his movements. If anything, he looked like someone who worked in finance or law.
His gaze swept the room once before settling on her.
“Miss Clara?” he asked as he approached.
“Yes.”
He took the seat opposite her. “Daniel Reed.”
They shook hands. His grip was firm but not overpowering.
“You chose a good table,” he remarked lightly. “You can see everyone who walks in.”
“I like to be aware,” she replied.
A faint nod of approval crossed his face.
A waitress approached. They ordered coffee. Nothing more than that.
Once they were alone again, Daniel folded his hands on the table. “Tell me what you need.”
Clara did not circle around it.
“My partner is undergoing an expensive medical treatment. It’s being fully funded by an anonymous sponsor through a foundation. We were told not to worry about the cost. No explanation. No identity. Just generosity.”
“And you’re uncomfortable with that,” Daniel said.
“Yes.”
“Has anyone asked for anything in return?”
“No.”
“Threats?”
“No.”
“Unusual contracts? Clauses?”
She hesitated. “There was paperwork. Standard consent forms. But nothing that stood out.”
Daniel leaned back slightly, studying her. “Then what exactly are you afraid of, Miss.?”
The question sat heavily between them.
“I’m afraid of hidden conditions,” she answered quietly. “Of debts that appear later. Of discovering that my partner’s life is tied to something we don’t understand.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
“And you’re pregnant,” he observed.
She stiffened. “How did you…”
“You touched your stomach three times in the last minute,” he said gently. “It wasn’t a guess.”
Clara exhaled.
“Yes. I am.”
Daniel’s expression softened, though his tone remained professional. “You want to know who is paying and why.”
“Yes. I need the truth before it finds us on its own.”
He nodded once. “All right. Here’s how this works.”
He pulled a small leather notebook from his pocket but did not open it yet.
“First, I’ll need copies of every document related to the foundation and the treatment. Names of doctors involved. Dates. Locations. Any unusual conversations, even if they seemed harmless at the time.”
“There’s a private doctor assigned to oversee parts of the process,” Clara said carefully. “He claims to represent the foundation.”
“Name?”
“Dr Laurent”
She told him.
Daniel’s eyes flickered briefly, committing it to memory. “Good. I’ll start by tracing the foundation itself. Registration records, board members, financial disclosures. If the funding is legitimate, there will be a trail. If it’s layered through shell entities, that trail will still exist. It will just take longer.”
“And the hospital?” she asked.
“I’ll look into their partnership agreements. If someone is funneling money through them, there will be contracts.”
Clara leaned forward. “Can you do this without alerting them?”
A small, almost amused breath left him. “Discretion is what you’re paying for.”
The word paying hung in the air.
“How much?” she asked.
“For preliminary investigation, background tracing, and document analysis, my retainer is five thousand. That covers two weeks. If the case becomes more complex, we renegotiate.”
Five thousand.
The number made her heart skip, but she did not show it.
“And if you find something dangerous?” she asked.
“I inform you first. Always. You decide the next step.”
She studied him carefully. There was no eagerness in his expression. No hunger for drama. Only structure.
“What do you need from me immediately?” she asked.
“Trust,” he said simply. “And honesty. If you’re withholding anything, it will slow me down.”
Clara hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shook her head. “I’ve told you everything.”
He watched her long enough to make sure.
“Very well. I’ll send you a secure email address. Use it for documents only. No details over regular calls unless urgent. And Miss Clara…”
“Yes?”
“If your partner asks, are you prepared to tell him?”
Her chest tightened.
“No.”
Daniel gave a slow nod. “Secrets complicate investigations. But they’re sometimes necessary.”
The waitress returned with the bill. Daniel reached for it, but Clara stopped him.
“I’ll handle it,” she said.
He allowed her to.
As they stood to leave, Daniel extended his hand again. “We begin today.”
Clara shook it.
Outside, the sun felt brighter than it had any right to be. She should have felt relief. Instead, she felt the quiet weight of movement. Something had been set in motion, subtle but irreversible.
For the first time since the anonymous sponsorship began, she was no longer waiting for the truth to arrive.
She was going after it.