The Billionaire in the Orange Vest
Chapter 5
Adrian didn’t tell Clara about the letter.
Not yet.
Instead, he asked her a different question.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Three years.”
“Did anything unusual happen when you started?”
Clara thought.
“Unusual?”
“Anything.”
She shook her head.
“Not really.”
Then she stopped.
“Actually…”
“What?”
“There was a basement area.”
“Basement?”
“Old records storage. It was closed before I started.”
“Why?”
“Structural problems, supposedly.”
“Where is it?”
“Under the old east wing.”
Adrian’s pulse quickened.
“Who told you?”
“An older nurse. She said the hospital used to store paper records there.”
“Did you ever see it?”
“No.”
Adrian nodded.
“Thank you.”
That night, he brought in an independent structural engineer.
The old basement wasn’t damaged.
It had been sealed deliberately.
Behind a false concrete wall was a steel door.
Adrian opened it.
Inside were boxes.
Hundreds of them.
Old patient records.
Financial statements.
Photographs.
And something that made his blood run cold.
A ledger.
The dates went back thirty-eight years.
Payments had been made to hospital administrators, suppliers, politicians, and private companies.
The names changed.
The system didn’t.
Someone had been stealing money from St. Anne’s for decades.
The current fraud wasn’t new.
It was inherited.
Then Adrian found a photograph.
His father stood beside two hospital executives.
One of them was Martin Cole’s father.
The other was the hospital’s former director.
On the back, someone had written:
Keep the hospital profitable. Keep the patients dependent.
Adrian’s stomach turned.
He called Clara.
She answered immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“I found something.”
“At the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I think your hospital has been corrupted for decades.”
Silence.
Then Clara said:
“Are patients in danger?”
Adrian paused.
“Possibly.”
“Then we can’t wait.”
They met at the hospital that night.
Clara entered the old basement with him.
She stared at the boxes.
“This is why they cut staff.”
“Maybe.”
“Why would anyone do this?”
“Because sick people don’t have the power to negotiate.”
Clara looked at him.
“Then we need to give them some.”
Adrian smiled.
“That’s why I called you.”
They spent three hours reviewing documents.
Near midnight, Clara found a folder marked with a red triangle.
Inside were patient names.
Some had been charged for procedures they never received.
Some had insurance claims submitted without authorization.
Others had disappeared from the records entirely.
Clara recognized one name.
“Mr. Harris.”
“The elderly patient?”
“Yes.”
His record showed a procedure that had never happened.
Adrian looked at her.
“How much?”
Clara checked.
“Eight thousand dollars.”
“That’s not possible.”
“He doesn’t have insurance.”
Adrian looked through the folder.
“It was billed to a charity fund.”
Clara’s hands tightened.
“They stole from him.”
“They stole from hundreds.”
She looked at him.
“Then we expose them.”
A noise came from the corridor.
Both turned.
Footsteps.
Someone was approaching.
Adrian switched off the light.
The footsteps stopped outside the steel door.
A key entered the lock.
Someone was trying to get in.
