Chapter 9 - THE DOCTOR WHO DIAGNOSED ME BEFORE I WAS HIS PATIENT
Dr. Alan Pierce had never examined me.
That did not stop him from describing me in four pages of clinical language.
Impulsive.
Emotionally labile.
Fixated on marital suspicion.
Poor judgment.
Potential risk of financial self-harm.
Rebecca read the affidavit once.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
I stared at her.
“Which part of this is good?”
“He got greedy.”
Dr. Pierce claimed he had evaluated me in person on September fifth.
I had spent September fifth hospitalized on bed rest at Columbia Presbyterian.
Not merely documented.
Monitored continuously.
Twenty-six witnesses could prove I never left.
The affidavit was impossible.
More importantly, the doctor’s payment trail led directly to Whitmore Medical.
Federal investigators became interested.
Very interested.
The case was no longer simply family court.
False medical evidence had been used in an attempt to control a multimillion-dollar trust and a pending corporate transaction.
Sierra gave investigators her emails.
Nolan turned over twenty-three years of Bennett records.
Cole stopped answering calls.
Then he disappeared.
His Mercedes was found at JFK.
No passenger record under his name.
Passport scanners showed nothing.
Rebecca believed he had used a private aircraft.
I should have been frightened.
Instead, I felt something close to relief.
Then Sierra called.
“He’s still in Manhattan.”
“How do you know?”
“He contacted me.”
“What did he want?”
“The original proxy.”
“Why?”
“He thinks he can destroy it and replace it with a broader one.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if he gets your biometric authorization.”
My stomach tightened.
The Bennett patent system required my live approval.
Voice.
Face.
Signature.
Cole had tried incapacity.
Now perhaps he planned something more direct.
I increased security around the twins.
Not Cole’s security.
My own.
Chosen by me.
That distinction mattered.
That evening, Nolan returned only because I asked.
He stayed near the door.
“Rebecca said you wanted to see me.”
“I did.”
I handed him Dr. Pierce’s affidavit.
“Voss?”
Nolan read it.
“Yes.”
“How sure?”
“Pierce trained under him.”
Then he noticed the date.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“September fifth.”
“Yes.”
“Lauren, Voss visited Whitmore Medical that day.”
“So?”
“That was the same day Cole’s company ordered a full valuation of the dormant Bennett neonatal patent.”
My blood went cold.
They had begun preparing to declare me unstable before the twins were even born.
Before Christmas.
Before Sierra’s hotel photo.
The affair was not the beginning.
It was camouflage.
Then Nolan received a message from an old source.
A private plane had been booked from Teterboro for December twenty-seventh.
Passenger list:
COLE WHITMORE.
SAMUEL VOSS.
SIERRA LANE.
And two infants.
No Lauren.
May you like
Cole wasn’t merely planning to take control of the twins’ inheritance.
He had arranged to leave the country with our children.
