PART 2: A Stranger Let Me Sleep on His Shoulder—Then My Ex-Husband Found Me Before the Plane Even Landed -035

He thought.

“At my company?”

“In your life.”

He stared at me.

Then something changed in his face.

“Caroline’s medical records.”

“What about them?”

“Seven months ago, our legal department received an anonymous request.”

“For what?”

“For access to archived procurement records connected to her treatment period.”

My pulse quickened.

“Who requested them?”

“They didn’t know.”

“Anonymous?”

“Yes.”

“Did they release them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Patient privacy. Corporate retention policies. Several reasons.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Daniel looked down.

Adrian noticed.

“What?”

Daniel hesitated.

“Sir.”

“What?”

“There was a second request.”

Adrian’s expression tightened.

“When?”

“Four months ago.”

“Why wasn’t I told?”

“It was routed through legal.”

“From who?”

Daniel looked at me.

Then back at Adrian.

“Ethan Walker.”

I gripped the back of a chair.

Adrian went silent.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then my phone buzzed.

A text.

Unknown number.

I almost ignored it.

But something made me open it.

There was no message.

Only a photograph.

Taken inside an airplane cabin.

My airplane cabin.

I recognized my sweater.

Lily asleep in my arms.

The picture had been taken before Adrian sat down.

Before boarding finished.

Before I knew his name.

In the empty seat beside me was a black leather folder.

On top of it lay a white envelope.

My name was written across the front.

ELENA WALKER

My heart began to pound.

A second message arrived.

Adrian was never supposed to receive the file.

Then a third.

Neither was Ethan.

I stared at the screen.

Adrian stepped closer.

“Elena?”

My hands had started shaking.

“What is it?”

I turned the phone toward him.

He read the messages.

His face drained of color.

Daniel reached for his own phone.

“Can we trace the number?”

But before he could move, another message appeared.

This one contained only six words.

Ask who removed the envelope.

I looked again at the airplane photograph.

At the black folder.

At the white envelope sitting in the seat beside mine.

And then I noticed something in the reflection of the dark airplane window.

A woman standing in the aisle.

Only part of her face was visible.

But Adrian recognized her before I did.

He whispered one name.

“Claire.”

 

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