Chapter 6 - THE DOCTOR WHO NEVER TREATED ME
The doctor listed on my fabricated prescriptions was real.
Dr. Jonathan Reed.
A psychiatrist in Greenwich.
I had never met him.
He had never treated me.
His signature had been copied from insurance forms.
He cooperated immediately.
That helped.
The pharmacy account had been opened online using my Social Security number, date of birth, and insurance credentials.
Who had access?
My husband.
My attorney.
My assistant.
My mother.
Too many.
Then Nora found something.
Every prescription had been paid through a household health account controlled by Camden’s private office.
That narrowed things.
Marcus Vale approved the payments.
Again.
Marcus.
Always adjacent.
Never visible enough.
I asked Camden for a formal meeting through counsel.
He refused.
Then sent me a text:
You’re turning a marriage problem into corporate warfare.
I replied:
You forged medical records.
He answered:
You can’t prove I did.
Interesting.
Not “I didn’t.”
I saved it.
Then the board secretary called.
She had received a packet.
Medical records.
Statements from “concerned employees.”
Photos of me arriving at work late.
One showed me crying inside a car.
That photograph had been taken the day my father died.
Six years earlier.
They were building a narrative from grief.
I felt anger become useful.
“Who submitted it?”
“Camden’s office.”
There.
Then something else.
Three employee statements claimed I had become erratic.
I recognized the names.
Junior executives.
All recently promoted by Camden.
Nora interviewed them through outside counsel.
Two admitted they signed documents Marcus drafted without reading carefully.
The third refused to speak.
Then resigned.
The incapacity case began collapsing.
But Camden still had one weapon.
Our marriage.
In the prenuptial agreement, a clause allowed temporary spousal voting access during verified medical incapacity.
Verified.
Not fabricated.
Yet if he could create enough confusion before Friday, he might seize the chair long enough to authorize the Voss deal.
The timing mattered.
Why Friday?
Because one aircraft lease matured Saturday.
N719AM.
The Gulfstream.
Its lease contained collateral provisions tied to Pierce Aero’s banking line.
If refinanced under the Voss structure, Camden could move control of multiple aircraft into a new holding company.
I saw it.
He did not need to own Pierce Aero forever.
He needed forty-eight hours.
Enough to move assets.
Then Nora found the missing piece.
A draft sale agreement.
Buyer:
Monroe Aviation Partners.
Lila stared when we showed her.
“That’s my company.”
“You own it?”
“No.”
“My mother does.”
Lila’s mother, Evelyn Monroe, had created the company six months ago.
Purpose:
Acquire aviation assets from Pierce Aero if Camden obtained emergency control.
The affair.
The fake medical records.
The Zurich trust amendment.
The unauthorized flights.
All roads led to the same transaction.
Then my mother called.
“Vivian.”
“What?”
“You need to see this.”
She sent an old photograph.
Dad.
James Voss.
Marcus Vale.
Together.
Twenty years earlier.
May you like
Marcus had not entered our lives through Camden.
He had known my father first.
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