Chapter 3 - ARTHUR HAD BEEN MANAGING DOMINIC’S MEDICAL ACCESS
Arthur did not deny it.
That would have been easier.
He sat across from Dominic the next morning in the library and crossed one leg over the other.
“You were in pain. I arranged additional care.”
“Without telling me.”
“You were already overwhelmed.”
Dominic’s cane rested against the desk.
He no longer wore the suspect brace.
Dr. Mercer had fitted a temporary alternative.
The difference was immediate.
Not miraculous.
Still painful.
But his leg felt less trapped.
“Why Martin Sloane?”
“He works with your rehabilitation clinic.”
“Who recommended him?”
Arthur paused.
“Dr. Bell.”
Dominic’s surgeon had not.
They verified that before breakfast.
Dr. Bell knew Sloane professionally but had never assigned him to Dominic.
The clinic administrator had.
Who introduced Sloane to that administrator?
A charitable foundation.
Vale Recovery Initiative.
Chairman of the foundation:
Arthur Voss.
Dominic almost admired the layers.
Almost.
Arthur leaned forward.
“You’re creating conspiracy because a child touched a buckle.”
“No.”
Dominic’s voice stayed flat.
“I’m asking why my brace was altered.”
Arthur stood.
“You think I need tricks to replace you?”
Vincent shifted near the door.
Arthur smiled coldly.
“If I wanted your chair, Dominic, I could have challenged you years ago.”
“Then sit down.”
Arthur stared.
Dominic did not raise his voice.
Arthur sat.
“Tonight’s vote is canceled indefinitely.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I just did.”
“The council will see weakness.”
“Let them.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
That reaction told Dominic more than argument would.
Then Vincent entered with Martin Sloane’s personnel records.
The therapist had disappeared.
Apartment empty.
Phone disconnected.
Car located at O’Hare Airport.
No evidence yet of flight.
But he had withdrawn $48,000 cash from an account two days earlier.
Arthur looked genuinely surprised.
Maybe.
Dominic had stopped trusting expressions.
Then Dr. Mercer arrived with new imaging.
She placed scans on the light screen.
“There’s nerve inflammation.”
“From the brace?”
“Possibly aggravated by it.”
Then she pointed toward Dominic’s knee.
“But there’s something else.”
A small metallic fragment sat near the surgical repair.
Not part of the original surgical hardware.
At first, everyone assumed debris from the crash.
Lena disagreed.
“It has regular edges.”
Manufactured.
Tiny.
Less than a centimeter.
Dominic stared.
“Could it come from the brace?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“We need your original post-operative scans.”
Those scans arrived an hour later.
The fragment was absent immediately after Dominic’s surgery.
It appeared on imaging six weeks later.
Meaning it entered his body sometime after surgery.
No one spoke.
Then Lena said:
“I’m not claiming someone put it there intentionally.”
Good.
Facts first.
“But it was not present after the operation.”
Clare, standing at the library door with fresh linens, suddenly dropped the towels.
Everyone turned.
She was staring at the fragment on the scan.
“I’ve seen that shape.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Where?”
Clare whispered:
“Aaron kept one in a plastic bag.”
“Why?”
“He said it broke off inside a test brace.”
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Then:
“He called it the part that could bury Halcyon.”
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