How My Husband Planned My Ruin and Built His Own Downfall
As a major donor, I had an administrative login that allowed me to view patient records for billing verification.
But I needed that specific laboratory accession number.
The taxi pulled up to the hospital’s private entrance.
I paid the driver and stepped out.
The hospital lobby was quiet, smelling of expensive floor polish and clean linens.
I walked past the security desk, nodding to the guard who recognized me.
“Good evening, Mrs. Harlan,” he said.
“Good evening, Marcus,” I replied. “I’m just going up to the administration office to leave some paperwork.”
“Go right ahead.”
I took the elevator to the third floor, where the administrative offices were located.
The hallway was empty, the staff having gone home for the day.
I walked past the offices and toward the back stairway that led down to the laboratory wing.
My heels clicked softly on the linoleum stairs.
I reached the heavy door marked *Laboratory Services – Authorized Personnel Only*.
I took a deep breath.
I pulled my donor access card from my bag.
It was a gold card, given to major contributors to allow them private tours and access to VIP areas.