Chapter 6 - THE DRUG PRESCRIBED TO ME
I had never taken a blue capsule in my life.
At least not knowingly.
Alexis brought the bottles to a police station.
My name.
Birth date.
Address.
Prescribing physician:
Richard Whitmore, MD.
My husband had written prescriptions for me.
Without telling me.
Filled at a private compounding pharmacy.
I stared at the label.
“What was he doing with these?”
Naomi examined them.
“Could be placebo stock.”
“Could be?”
She opened one.
Same compound.
My stomach turned.
“When would he give it to me?”
Silence.
Then I remembered.
Vitamins.
Richard had started buying expensive “focus supplements” two years earlier.
One bottle sat in our kitchen cabinet.
I took them occasionally.
Not daily.
Only when he reminded me.
My hands went cold.
I called Evelyn Shaw, my attorney and college friend.
“Get someone into my house.”
Within an hour, police secured the supplements.
Lab testing confirmed low-dose compound.
I sat in silence.
Richard had drugged me.
Or someone using his prescriptions had.
My anger became something cleaner.
No more confusion.
No more marriage counseling fantasies.
No more wondering whether I had failed.
Then Richard called.
I answered.
“Claire.”
“Did you drug me?”
Silence.
“Answer.”
“I didn’t know what was in them.”
I laughed.
“You prescribed them.”
“Victor gave me the formula.”
“So?”
“He said they were cognitive supplements.”
“You’re a doctor.”
“I trusted the documentation.”
“You prescribed medication to your wife without informed consent.”
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice stayed calm.
“You know now.”
He started crying.
That surprised me.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You lied to me for years.”
“Yes.”
“You built a secret clinic.”
“Yes.”
“You had an affair.”
“Yes.”
“You put my company at risk.”
“Yes.”
“You gave me drugs I didn’t consent to.”
His voice broke.
“Yes.”
There it was.
No excuse left large enough.
Then he said:
“Claire, Victor is going to kill Alexis.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“She knows where the trial data is.”
“Where?”
“Downtown apartment.”
“Why does she know?”
“She found the server.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Evelyn.
She was already calling police.
Richard continued:
“Victor knows you found the prescriptions.”
“What does he want?”
“You.”
“Why?”
Silence.
“Richard.”
“Because your bloodwork showed resistance.”
Naomi went still beside me.
“What?”
“You metabolized the drug faster than expected.”
I looked at her.
She nodded slowly.
“That could be true.”
Richard continued.
“Victor thinks your father discovered a genetic resistance pattern.”
“Meaning?”
“You may be the reason he never perfected the formula.”
My stomach turned.
“So I’m a research problem.”
“To Victor, yes.”
“What am I to you?”
Silence.
That answer hurt.
Then Richard whispered:
“My wife.”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
He went quiet.
“You stopped treating me like one long before today.”
Then I hung up.
Two hours later, Alexis was found.
Alive.
But unconscious.
In Richard’s downtown apartment.
Beside her sat the missing server.
And one handwritten note.
BRING CLAIRE TO HAWTHORNE STREET IF YOU WANT THE TRIAL DATA RELEASED.
Underneath:
COME ALONE.
I looked at Evelyn.
“No.”
May you like
She smiled slightly.
“You weren’t going alone anyway.”
