Chapter 8 - THE MEDICAL PROGRAM THAT WASN'T TREATMENT
The Northstar clinic called it a wellness program.
The documents called it a cognitive health initiative.
But Valentina Moretti had never knowingly agreed to participate.
That was what the independent medical review established.
Her records showed appointments she didn't remember.
Medications she hadn't been told about.
And consent forms bearing a signature that didn't match her usual handwriting.
I stared at the documents.
"Someone enrolled her without permission."
The attorney nodded.
"That's one of the concerns under investigation."
Dante stood beside the table.
His expression was grim.
For months, he'd believed his mother's increasing confusion was simply part of aging.
Now he was discovering that someone might have been deliberately interfering with her care.
"Why?" he asked.
The attorney turned another page.
The program's billing records showed enormous charges.
Some were paid through Valentina's private accounts.
Others were submitted to a foundation-connected medical assistance fund.
My stomach tightened.
"They were taking money from her too."
The attorney nodded.
"Potentially."
Dante closed his eyes.
Then I remembered Valentina's words.
Celeste wanted me sleepy enough to stay out of Dante's affairs.
I looked toward him.
"Your mother knew something."
He nodded slowly.
"She was trying to protect me."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the attorney opened another document.
A legal form.
POWER OF ATTORNEY — PROPOSED TRANSFER.
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It would allow someone to manage certain financial decisions if Valentina were deemed unable to do so."
My stomach tightened.
"Who was supposed to receive that authority?"
The attorney turned the page.
Celeste Bowmont.
I stared.
"So if Valentina appeared confused..."
Dante finished the sentence.
"Celeste could try to control her assets."
Silence.
Then the attorney revealed another document.
A preliminary assessment prepared by a Northstar-affiliated physician.
It claimed Valentina was experiencing significant cognitive decline.
But her independent hospital evaluation didn't support the same conclusions.
The discrepancy required further medical review.
Still, the pattern was alarming.
Someone had been preparing to remove Valentina's financial independence.
And the person who stood to benefit was Celeste.
Then I noticed another name.
Vincent Romano.
He had witnessed the proposed power-of-attorney document.
My hands went cold.
"Both of them."
Dante nodded.
For the first time, he looked genuinely frightened.
Not for himself.
For his mother.
Then his phone rang.
Patricia.
Dante answered.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He listened.
Then looked toward me.
"Serena, where are you?"
"In the study."
"Stay there."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
He ended the call.
"Celeste is back."
I went still.
"At the penthouse?"
He nodded.
"She's demanding to see Valentina."
"But Valentina's still recovering."
Dante's expression hardened.
"Exactly."
Then Patricia called again.
This time, her voice was shaking.
"Mr. Moretti, she's brought a physician."
Dante looked up sharply.
"What physician?"
Patricia swallowed.
"Dr. Leonard Price."
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The same doctor who'd signed Valentina's questionable cognitive assessment.
And according to Patricia, Celeste had arrived with documents requesting immediate control over Valentina's medical decisions.
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