Page 57 of The Senator's Wife

Whit nodded. “Whatever you want.”

She sat up straight, regaining some equilibrium. “I’ve been thinking about the foundation. You’re going to have a lot to juggle, now that I’m temporarily out of commission. Are you sure you’re okay handling all the disbursement requests? Maybe I should ask Camille to help out in the meantime.”

“No, of course I have time. You need to get well before you goback to work, and I take my responsibility as trustee very seriously. Our work at the foundation is just as important as my work in Congress. The foundation is our legacy.”

Sloane was stung by his words. The foundation was the legacy of Robert and her, but Whit talked as if Robert had never existed, as if he wanted to erase him from Sloane’s past. Until recently, Whit had never expressed much interest in the foundation’s projects and initiatives, and the notion of its being his legacy felt offensive.

She held her tongue, trying to talk herself out of her resentment. In the end, she really did want Whit to feel ownership now that he was a trustee. Together they would advance the work, and she would make sure that they kept Robert’s memory alive.

“I’m glad you want to be such an integral part of the foundation,” Sloane finally said. “By the way, Brianna said we had a large cash contribution. Who was it from? The only info she had was that it came from a Triad III LLC, and the company didn’t designate to which specific charity the money should go.”

Whit shifted in his seat. “I thought we just agreed that you’ll go back to work when you’re well. This is not the time for you to worry about what’s going on at the foundation.”

“But I’m just asking who they are—”

“Stop,” he interrupted. “You need to focus on getting better. End of discussion.” He picked up her laptop. “As a matter of fact, let’s give this a rest for a few days.”

“What are you doing?”

“How are you ever going to get better if you keep working and worrying about the foundation? We have it under control. Besides, what if you start hallucinating in the middle of a video call…” He let the implication dangle.

She went warm with humiliation.

“But…”

“No buts.” He rose abruptly and said, “I’ll come back up later with your pomegranate juice. Read to you if you like.”

Sloane wasn’t used to being ordered about, but she realized itwould do no good to argue with Whit. After he left, she’d have Athena retrieve her laptop.

Her gaze swung restlessly around the once-luxurious bedroom with its cozy seating area by the fireplace. Now it was merely a sickroom, with pill bottles, medical devices, and bare wooden floors that were once covered with Oriental rugs, now removed so she wouldn’t trip on them. She couldn’t let Whit treat her like someone who could no longer think, however. How dare he refuse to answer her question about the donor, as if it were all too much for her poor muddled mind! There was a reason for these hallucinations. Inflammation in the blood vessels in her brain. Once that was resolved, she would be fine. She had to be. And right now, she didn’t feel at all confused.

Raising her phone again, she began a detailed text to Brianna regarding the new shelter in Ohio—the one she’d never heard of—and the large donation from an unknown donor. She asked Brianna to email her any details she had. Her phone dinged immediately with a text from Brianna, reminding her that she was in closed-door meetings with the auditor for the next two days, and asking if she could look into it after that. Sloane responded that it could wait.

She grabbed her reading glasses from the nightstand, went to a search bar on her phone, and typed inTriad III LLC.The page was populated with numerous companies by the same name in different states and in various industries—medical, automotive, investments, and more. She needed to know in which state they had filed. She sent another text to Brianna and asked her for that information as well when she was out of her meetings. Sloane put the phone down and closed her eyes. Was she being paranoid? She should be thrilled that they had a new donor. But she wasn’t used to being out of the loop. Even though she’d placed her confidence in Whit and made him a trustee, she wasn’t going to stop until she had the answers she sought.

- 45 -

WHIT

Sloane hadn’t had another hallucination since the birds three days ago. Whit left her asleep and walked down the hall to knock on Athena’s bedroom door.

“Oh, hi. You’re back. You were lucky Dr. Porter was able to get Sloane into the neurologist so quickly. How is she?” Athena asked.

“Out like a light,” he said. “Take a drive with me. I’ll fill you in on the appointment, so no one will overhear our conversation. I don’t want the staff to know yet.”

“Sure.”

“Meet me in the garage.”

Twenty minutes later, he was driving through Georgetown with Athena next to him in the Porsche’s passenger seat. He’d seldom driven it after Sloane’s hip made it too painful for her to get in and out, using the Bentley for all their outings instead. It felt good to be behind the wheel again. He’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone attractive, young, and interested in the seat next to him in this sporty car. They rode in silence until he pulled into a parking lot, stopped the car, and turned off the engine. Turning to face her, he began. “I’m afraid the doctor didn’t offer much hope.”

“What did he say?”

Whit continued. “He’s ordered a brain MRI. Hopefully, they can get her in before the end of the week. He feels it will only confirm what he already believes—that these latest symptoms are indicative of inflammation in the brain. Possibly even organic brain syndrome, which would account for the hallucinations, headaches, dizziness, blurry vision, and memory lapses. The MRI will show whether there’s damage.”

“Are they optimistic?”

Whit looked down. “Dr. Porter will need to review the MRI and suggest next steps. But it looks pretty dire. The neurologist did some basic cognitive tests, and she didn’t do well. It was horrible. I felt so bad for her. I’m afraid the progression is only going to get worse.”

---