The audit team found the first concrete link between the missing archive materials and the Blackwood Foundation three days later. A storage company had recorded the arrival of several sealed boxes from the old administrative building shortly before the renovation began. The shipment had been authorized by an employee in Victor's office, but the inventory attached to the delivery did not identify the contents.
The company had retained its intake records because the boxes had been placed in a restricted section of the warehouse. Access required a named authorization, and the account was registered to the foundation rather than the company.
Reed learned of the discovery during a meeting with the hospital's legal counsel. He had hoped for an update on Adrian's condition, not another complication involving his family, but the implications were too significant to ignore.
“Can the boxes be inspected?” he asked.
“Not without establishing who has authority over the foundation's records,” the lawyer replied. “We're requesting a preservation order. Until then, we have to make sure nothing is moved or destroyed.”
“Who authorized the shipment?”
“An executive assistant acting under instructions from Victor's office.”
Reed glanced at the preliminary audit report. The assistant had confirmed arranging the transport but claimed not to know what the boxes contained. She had followed a written instruction to remove old papers before the building was renovated.
“Did she keep the instruction?”
“She says it was sent through the company's internal system. The audit team is trying to recover the message.”
At St. Catherine's, Adrian's progress continued in small increments. He could maintain eye contact for longer periods and had begun tolerating brief sessions of physical therapy. His speech remained severely limited. Occasionally he produced a faint syllable, but the effort left him breathless and frustrated.
The rehabilitation team explained that ten years of immobility had weakened his muscles and affected his ability to coordinate movement. His recovery would require patience, and even with sustained therapy, some limitations might remain. Claire listened to every explanation, asking practical questions about positioning, fatigue, and how to recognize when he needed a rest.
She also learned when to stop trying to communicate.
One afternoon, she found him struggling to keep his eyes open while a therapist arranged the letter cards. He had been alert during the morning examination, and the staff had hoped to use that period of concentration to test his ability to identify words.
“Would you like to continue?” the specialist asked.
Adrian blinked once, then closed his eyes.
The specialist waited.
“Are you tired?”
One blink.
They ended the session. Claire stayed beside him, disappointed but not surprised. She had begun to understand that every useful answer cost him something, and that pushing him beyond his limits would not make the truth arrive sooner.
When he woke again, she told him about the storage company. She described the boxes, the missing packet, and the fact that the audit team was trying to find the original shipping instruction.
Adrian's gaze sharpened.
“Do you recognize the storage company?” she asked.
The specialist reminded her to use neutral wording. Claire corrected herself.
“Have you heard of the storage company?”
One blink.
“Do you want the doctors to ask you more about it?”
One blink.
They arranged a short session for the following morning. The specialist prepared a series of questions that could be answered through the established yes-or-no system and repeated each one to check consistency. Adrian appeared to recognize the name of the company, but the response was not strong enough to establish what he knew about it.
The specialist moved on to questions about the old office. Adrian responded more consistently when asked whether the office had been important to him.
Yes.
When asked whether the missing documents concerned the foundation, he blinked once.
When asked whether Victor knew what was in the packet, his eyes remained still for several seconds. Then he blinked twice.
No.
The specialist recorded the answers but cautioned that they represented Adrian's current communication attempts, not proof of what had happened. She also reminded Claire that the team should not repeatedly question him about allegations against a family member without a clear clinical reason.
Claire agreed. The information needed independent verification, and Adrian needed time to regain enough strength to communicate without exhausting himself.
That afternoon, Price visited the hospital with a new proposal. He said Victor was prepared to support Adrian's rehabilitation at St. Catherine's and would withdraw the immediate transfer request. In exchange, he wanted the family to be allowed to appoint a financial representative to manage Adrian's business interests during recovery.
The proposal was presented as a compromise. Price emphasized that the company needed decisions made promptly and that employees were concerned about uncertainty in its leadership.
Reed referred him to the patient advocate.
“Medical care and financial authority are separate questions,” the advocate explained. “Mr. Blackwood's capacity must be assessed independently. His brother cannot assume control simply because he is receiving treatment.”
Price said the family would consider the point. Before leaving, he asked whether Adrian had been discussing the missing documents with Claire.
The advocate declined to discuss private clinical sessions.
Price's polite expression did not change, but he paused at the door.
“Mr. Blackwood has been through a great deal,” he said. “It would be unfortunate if people around him encouraged suspicions that he cannot properly evaluate.”
The advocate waited until he had left before reporting the exchange to the hospital director.
Claire heard about it that evening. She was angry enough to confront Victor, but Reed advised her not to contact him. If there was evidence of improper conduct, the audit and legal teams needed to handle it. A personal confrontation would accomplish little and might complicate the investigation.
“I am tired of being told to wait,” Claire said.
“I know,” Reed replied. “But waiting for evidence is different from allowing someone to bury it.”
She sat down, exhausted. “What if the documents are gone?”
“Then we'll establish what we can from the records that remain.”
That answer offered no comfort, but it was honest.
The next morning, the storage company provided the audit team with a scanned copy of the original shipment instruction. The document had been sent from an executive account associated with Victor's office. It ordered the removal of the foundation's older files and directed the warehouse to hold certain boxes until further notice.
A separate attachment referred to a packet that was not to be included in the general inventory.
The instruction did not state why the packet was being separated. It did, however, contradict the explanation that the entire archive had been transferred indiscriminately during the renovation.
The audit team requested a list of people who had accessed the restricted storage section. The company provided three names, one of whom was a former legal consultant to the Blackwood Foundation.
His name was Daniel Price.
Reed read the report twice. Price had not merely represented Victor in the hospital dispute. He had personally accessed the storage area where the missing documents had been held.
That afternoon, the hospital's legal counsel notified the foundation's independent trustees and requested that Price disclose any involvement he had in moving or retaining records. Price responded through his firm, stating that his visit to the warehouse had concerned an unrelated legal matter.
The explanation was possible. It was also incomplete. The audit team asked for the date and purpose of the visit to be documented.
While the lawyers exchanged letters, Adrian made his clearest attempt yet to communicate a name.
The speech specialist had introduced a more reliable letter-selection board, using eye direction to choose from a small group of letters at a time. The method was slow, and each selection required confirmation. They began with common words and familiar names to ensure that Adrian understood the process.
After several practice rounds, the specialist asked him whether he wanted to spell something specific.
One blink.
She placed the first set of letters in view.
Adrian selected D.
They confirmed it, then offered the next set.
A.
Then N.
The specialist paused to ensure he had not lost concentration. Adrian continued, selecting I, E, L.
DANIEL.
The team recorded the sequence and asked whether he wanted to add another word.
One blink.
The next sequence was slower. Adrian selected P, then R, then I, then C, then E.
The specialist looked toward Reed, who had entered to observe the session.
“Daniel Price,” Reed said quietly.
Adrian blinked once.
They repeated the entire process after a rest. He spelled the same name again, though the final letters required more effort. The result was sufficiently consistent to warrant careful documentation.
No one asked Adrian to explain the accusation. The specialist ended the session, and the team agreed that the information should be passed to the legal investigators without treating it as proof of wrongdoing.
Claire arrived shortly afterward. Reed told her only that Adrian had communicated a name and that the legal team would investigate its relevance. He did not want her to influence Adrian's next attempt or become an intermediary in the inquiry.
She respected that decision. When she entered the room, she talked about ordinary things until Adrian's eyes began to close.
Then he caught her attention with a small movement of his fingers.
“Do you want to tell me something?” she asked.
One blink.
She pointed to the letter board. “Would you like to use the letters?”
One blink.
The specialist was called back, and they set up the board. Adrian struggled through the first selection, but after resting, he managed to identify a short sequence.
N.
O.
R.
T.
H.
The team confirmed each letter twice. The word was unmistakable.
“North,” Claire said softly.
Adrian blinked once.
“Is it the north office?”
One blink.
“Are the documents there?”
Two blinks.
“No.
Claire felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. If the documents were no longer in the office, and he was telling them they were not in the storage location they had identified, where had they gone?
The specialist asked whether he wanted to continue.
Adrian blinked once, but his eyes were already tiring. They tried one final sequence. He selected S, then a pause, then A.
The next letter was unclear. The team could not establish whether he had intended to spell a word, a name, or something else. They stopped the session and documented the partial response without guessing at its meaning.
Later that evening, the audit team received confirmation that the missing packet had been removed from the warehouse's restricted section two days earlier. The access record bore a signature that appeared to belong to a senior executive, but the scan was too faint to identify the person conclusively.
The timing was alarming. Someone had collected the packet after the investigation began.
Reed informed the hospital's legal counsel, who immediately contacted the foundation's trustees. The warehouse was instructed to preserve the remaining records and provide the original access log for examination.
At the same time, Victor requested another meeting with the hospital director. He said the family was concerned that Adrian's rehabilitation was being overshadowed by an unauthorized investigation into old business matters.
The director agreed to meet, but she made one condition: Victor would have to explain why he had ordered the archives removed and identify the current location of the missing packet.
Victor did not confirm the meeting.
Instead, Price sent a short letter saying that his client denied withholding any documents and reserved the right to take legal action against anyone who continued to imply misconduct.
Reed placed the letter beside the audit report.
“They know we're getting closer,” Claire said when she saw the documents.
“Or they believe the investigation is becoming unfair,” Reed replied. “We still need the evidence.”
She looked through the window at Adrian. He was asleep, his hand resting beside the letter board. The word he had spelled remained written on the specialist's notes.
Daniel Price.
For the first time, the trail did not merely lead toward Victor's decisions. It pointed toward the lawyer who had helped defend those decisions, handled the disputed paperwork, and visited the place where Adrian's missing documents had been stored.
And somewhere outside the hospital, the person who had collected the packet was still free to decide what happened to it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: Victor Offered Adrian a Chance to Reclaim His Life, but the Price of His Brother’s Cooperation Was a Silence Adrian Could No Longer Accept
The Billionaire’s Heartbeat Changed at Midnight, Just as His Family Prepared to Decide Who Would Inherit His Empire
Part 7 of 8
