Chapter 3 - Phedra Finally Told Me Everything
I reached the hospital in fourteen minutes.
Security had already removed the man.
He claimed he was a document courier.
He wasn't.
He had tried to convince Phedra to sign a statement saying Selina had provided proper care and that Phedra had voluntarily declined further cancer treatment because of cost.
Phedra refused.
The man left when she called the nurse.
Security cameras captured him.
My lawyer identified him the next morning.
He worked occasionally for Godfrey.
Debt collections.
Repossession.
“Friendly paperwork,” apparently.
Police became involved.
That was when the family dinner stopped being a trap and became evidence.
I sat beside Phedra.
“Tell me everything.”
She looked away.
“Everything.”
So she did.
The abuse started gradually.
After her diagnosis, Selina took control of appointments.
Then transportation.
Then money.
Phedra sold small belongings to pay for medication.
Selina found out.
Took her jewelry.
Then her phone access became limited.
During our calls, Selina often stood nearby.
I felt sick.
“What about when you stopped using video?”
“My hair.”
Chemotherapy had caused some hair loss initially.
Then treatment stopped because Selina wouldn't pay.
Later, Selina shaved the rest during an argument.
My hands started shaking.
“She did what?”
Phedra cried.
“She said I looked disgusting with patches.”
I stood.
Phedra grabbed my arm.
“Don't go.”
I stopped.
That mattered.
She didn't want revenge.
She wanted me there.
So I sat.
“Okay.”
Then came the storage shed.
Selina claimed Phedra's coughing disturbed everyone.
Godfrey moved a mattress outside.
Food became punishment.
If Phedra argued, meals disappeared.
If she asked for money, she was called a thief.
If she threatened to tell me, Selina said:
“Damian is sacrificing everything. Do you want him to come home and lose his future because you're dying?”
That sentence had kept Phedra silent.
She believed telling me would destroy what I had spent four years building.
I held her hand.
“I would have come home.”
“I know now.”
“You should have told me.”
“I tried.”
She wasn't accusing me.
That made it worse.
I remembered every conversation I'd rushed.
Every:
I'm tired, honey. Can we talk Sunday?
Every time Mom called afterward to say Phedra was emotional.
Every time I accepted the easier version.
Trust without verification had become negligence.
“I need you to hear me,” I said.
Phedra looked at me.
“I failed to notice what was happening.”
“Damian—”
“No.”
I squeezed her hand.
“You don't need to protect me from that truth.”
She cried.
“So what happens?”
“Treatment.”
“It's expensive.”
“I don't care.”
“What about Canada?”
“I don't care.”
“Your job?”
“I'll figure it out.”
She stared.
Then whispered:
“I don't want to die.”
That was the first time she'd said it.
I put my forehead against hers.
“Then we fight.”
Her oncology team built a new plan.
It wouldn't be easy.
No guarantees.
But there was still a path.
I paid directly.
No Selina.
No family account.
No intermediary.
Then the financial investigation exploded.
The $217,000 inheritance theft was real.
The auto shop loans were real.
My forged signature appeared on six documents.
Phedra's appeared on three.
Selina and Godfrey had also taken out a life insurance policy on Phedra.
That discovery made me physically ill.
Policy value:
$500,000.
Beneficiary:
A company tied to Godfrey's auto shop.
My lawyer stared at it.
“This is extraordinary.”
“Can they do that?”
“Not legally like this.”
The application claimed Godfrey's company had a financial interest in Phedra because she was a “key administrative consultant.”
Phedra had never worked there.
Signature forged.
Medical disclosures inaccurate.
The policy hadn't paid anything.
Phedra was alive.
But its existence changed how investigators viewed everything.
They had financial incentives tied to her death.
I refused to jump from fraud to attempted murder.
Evidence mattered.
But the situation was now far more serious.
Police searched the house.
They found medication belonging to Phedra locked in Selina's bedroom.
Unopened.
Prescriptions I had indirectly paid for.
They found her phone.
Two phones, actually.
One was the device she used with me.
The second contained messages she'd tried to send.
Many never delivered.
Drafts.
Damian, please call me alone.
I am sick.
Your mother won't let me go to the hospital.
I need you to come home.
One draft ended:
If I disappear, please know I didn't leave you.
I sat in the police station and cried.
For four years, I'd been afraid of failing my family financially.
I never considered that money could become the tool used to hurt the person I loved most.
Then an officer asked:
“Mr. Cole, where is the million-dollar settlement?”
I almost laughed.
“There isn't one.”
He stared.
I explained.
The officer smiled slowly.
“You told them you had a million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“And that's when they gave you the binder?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head.
“Your family is not very good at crime.”
“They were good enough when nobody looked.”
That stopped him.
Because that was true.
People don't need sophisticated schemes when trust does the work for them.
Selina and Godfrey were arrested.
Not because I tricked them.
Because the evidence supported charges.
Fraud.
Forgery.
Financial exploitation.
Other offenses related to Phedra's treatment and confinement were investigated separately.
When police led Selina out, she saw me.
“Damian!”
I stood beside Phedra's hospital bed on a video call.
Mom screamed:
“You set us up!”
I looked at her.
“No.”
May you like
She froze.
“You set yourselves up.”
