Chapter 6 - Dr. Voss Makes an OfferDr. Voss did not threaten me at first.
Men like him rarely begin with threats.
They begin with reason.
“The infant is alive because of my program,” he said. “Without me, she would have died months ago.”
“After your hospital told her mother she was dead.”
“A necessary legal complication.”
Maya lifted her face slowly.
I put the phone on speaker.
She deserved to hear the monster clearly.
“You stole my baby,” she said.
Voss paused.
“Mrs. Santos, grief makes language imprecise.”
“Say that to me in person.”
Another soft laugh.
“Your daughter was born with lungs too weak for ordinary care. The hospital could not absorb the cost. You had no insurance pathway capable of sustaining her treatment. I arranged private funding.”
“You erased her.”
“I preserved her.”
Maya stood with both hands on the incubator.
“No. You stole her.”
The line went quiet.
When Voss spoke again, the warmth was gone.
“You were paid, Mr. Foster.”
I looked at the refrigerator of stolen medicine.
“Careful.”
“Your holding companies received consulting fees routed through Ryan Callaway’s discretionary accounts. Your pier gave us logistical access. Your staff member’s identity gave us a disposable suspect. Your penthouse provided temporary storage. On paper, you are not a witness. You are the center of the operation.”
Ryan had built a cage around me.
One signature at a time.
“How much?” I asked.
“How much what?”
“How much did Ryan sell me for?”
Voss seemed amused.
“Less than you would expect.”
That was the part that almost made me smile.
Not because it was funny.
Because Ryan had betrayed me cheaply.
“Here is what happens next,” Voss said. “You return the infant and the remaining doses. Mrs. Santos disappears from your employment records. The forged logs stay exactly as they are. Tomorrow morning, Northbridge releases Lily’s medication as an act of charity.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then regulators discover stolen biologics beneath Daniel Foster’s private residence. A grieving mother confesses she moved them for you. Ryan confirms it. Sam confirms it. Your name becomes poison before lunch.”
I looked at Sam.
He was crying silently.
Weak men always cried after choosing the wrong side.
Maya picked up Sofía’s tiny sock from beside the incubator and held it like a weapon.
“What about my baby?” she asked.
Voss answered gently.
“Your baby belongs to science now.”
That sentence ended any chance of negotiation.
I hung up.
Malik looked at me.
“Orders?”
I opened the refrigerator and photographed every label, every lot number, every altered tag.
Then I sent the images to three people.
Frank.
A federal prosecutor I had once buried under opposition research but never bribed.
And my grandmother’s old attorney, Evelyn Shaw, who had taught me that a document delivered at the right moment could hit harder than a gun.
Ryan appeared in the doorway behind us.
His hands were raised.
No weapon.
Just a smile.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You should have charged more,” I said.
His smile faded.
Maya moved between Ryan and the incubator.
He looked at her like she was furniture.
“You have no idea what Daniel is,” he told her. “He doesn’t save people. He acquires them.”
Maya glanced at me.
For one second, I wondered what she saw.
A rich man.
A cruel man.
Another locked door.
Then she said, “Maybe. But tonight he opened one.”
Ryan’s eyes darkened.
Above us, the fire alarms stopped.
In the sudden silence, my phone buzzed with a new message from Frank.
Three words.
Police are coming.
Then a second message arrived.
Not from Frank.
From Voss.
May you like
No, Mr. Foster.
They are already mine.
