If you sign the emergency conservatorship papers now, we won't have to explain the kitchen injuries to Child Protective Services, my senior business partner, Vivian Zhao, whispered while I lay bl...
A few days later, a sharp rap on Aunt Mai’s bakery door startled me. I was attempting to sketch a new vase design, but my hand still trembled, and my focus was broken. Aunt Mai, wiping flour from her hands, answered it.
A woman with kind, but serious, eyes stood on the stoop. She wore a tailored gray suit and carried a slim briefcase.
“Linh Dao?” she asked, her gaze finding me. “I’m Sarah Lawson, from Great Lakes Insurance.”
My muscles tightened. Insurance? Had Vivian found another way to target me through fraudulent claims?
Sarah stepped inside, declining Aunt Mai’s offer of tea. She looked around the cozy bakery, her eyes lingering on the steaming pho.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Sarah said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “This is highly irregular. But… after seeing your file, I felt I had to.”
She opened her briefcase, pulling out a sealed manila envelope. “Vivian Zhao took out a key-person insurance policy on you a while ago. Standard practice for business partners. But she made some significant amendments recently.”
My eyes narrowed. “Amendments?”
“Specifically,” Sarah continued, pushing the envelope across the small table, “a high-risk pregnancy rider. A $2.5 million payout in the event of… complications during emergency delivery.” She hesitated, her gaze flicking to the corner where Lily slept peacefully in her bassinette.
A cold wave washed over me. The attack in the studio, the forced conservatorship, Vivian claiming I was incapacitated—it all clicked into place. This wasn’t just about control; it was about a massive insurance payout.
“The policy was adjusted at 7:30 PM last Tuesday,” Sarah said, her voice barely audible. “I’ve included digital timestamps of the internal emails. Your incident, as reported, happened at 10:45 PM that same night.”
Hours before Arthur Chen attacked me, Vivian had already ensured she’d profit from my potential death. Sarah Lawson was risking her senior position at Great Lakes, her entire career, by giving me this information.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, looking at the timestamps, each one a nail in Vivian’s coffin.
Sarah met my gaze, her expression firm. “Because what Vivian Zhao did is illegal. And frankly, it’s monstrous.”
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