Then Maya’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her expression sharpened.
“We have the wall sample results.”
Nathan stood.
“And?”
“The residual sealant is still releasing trace solvents.”
“Enough to matter?”
“In a normal ventilated building, probably minimal.”
“And here?”
“With
the prior ozone and fragrance system?”
She nodded slowly.
“Potentially significant.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
Not one thing.
Everything.
Then Reeves said:
“There is another implication.”
“What?”
“If exposure began before we documented symptoms, we may have misread some early neurologic complaints as disease progression.”
Nathan looked toward him.
“So?”
“We should re-review every major diagnosis the twins received.”
All of them.
Two years of medicine.
Millions of dollars.
An entire story built on a starting point that might have been wrong.
Nathan stared toward the staircase.
Then whispered:
“Do it.”
But before anyone moved, Mrs. Bennett spoke.
“There’s something I never told you.”
Nathan turned.
She looked terrified.
“What?”
“Catherine asked me to keep copies of the boys’ early symptom notes.”
Nathan froze.
“Where?”
“In her sitting-room safe.”
