Chapter 2 - THE DOCTOR WHO LIED
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The tea was taken to a secure laboratory before Julian left the house.
Marcus arranged cameras in every hallway.
I gave him one instruction.
“No one tells Julian anything.”
He nodded.
But there was another problem.
Dr. Mason had examined me for years.
He had prescribed sleeping medication.
He had ordered neurological testing.
He had documented my symptoms.
He had told everyone I was suffering from severe insomnia.
Now I had to ask a painful question.
Was he part of it?
By noon, I had his complete billing history.
Every payment.
Every consulting contract.
Every transfer.
One account made me stop breathing.
Vance Behavioral Research Holdings.
A company controlled by Julian.
Dr. Mason had received $180,000 from it over three years.
I stared at the statement.
It could have been legitimate.
Research.
Consulting.
Expert witness work.
But the timing was perfect.
The first payment appeared three weeks after my symptoms began.
The final payment had cleared two days ago.
Marcus walked in.
“You found something.”
“Yes.”
I handed him the statement.
He studied it.
“That's bad.”
“You think he's involved?”
“I think we ask him.”
Dr. Mason arrived at the estate that afternoon.
He looked nervous.
I noticed immediately.
“Sit.”
He sat.
I closed the door.
“Doctor, how long have you worked with Julian?”
His eyes flickered.
“Occasionally.”
“That's not what I asked.”
He swallowed.
“Three years.”
“What did he hire you to do?”
“Research.”
“What kind?”
He looked toward the door.
I leaned forward.
“You are protected by no one here.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
He finally spoke.
“He asked me to monitor your neurological symptoms.”
My hands tightened.
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He claimed you had a progressive neurological condition.”
“I didn't.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“The symptoms didn't match.”
I stared.
“What did you find?”
“The compounds.”
My pulse quickened.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You kept treating me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Julian?”
He nodded.
“How afraid?”
He closed his eyes.
“He threatened my son.”
Silence.
That changed everything.
“Where is your son?”
“College.”
“Safe?”
“I don't know.”
Dr. Mason pulled an old file from his briefcase.
“I kept copies.”
Inside were blood analyses.
Three years of data.
My symptoms.
The changing compounds.
The doses.
And notes.
Patient responds strongly to Compound A.
Tolerance increasing.
Begin Compound B.
I felt sick.
This wasn't medicine.
It was experimentation.
I turned the pages.
Then I found one note.
If Gabriel deteriorates beyond recovery, activate Phase Four.
I looked up.
“What is Phase Four?”
Dr. Mason shook his head.
“I never saw it.”
“Who wrote this?”
He pointed.
“Julian.”
I stared.
My brother had been running a private medical experiment on me.
But why?
The answer was in the financial records.
Julian had spent the last year transferring ownership of my companies to a holding corporation.
Every document contained the same phrase:
Pending Executive Incapacity.
My incapacity.
He was preparing to declare me unfit.
Then my encrypted phone rang.
A legal adviser.
“Mr. Vance.”
“Yes?”
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Your brother submitted a medical petition yesterday.”
My stomach tightened.
“To whom?”
“The family board.”
“For what?”
“Emergency authority.”
I stood.
“He's trying to remove me.”
“Yes.”
“On what grounds?”
“Medical incompetence.”
I laughed.
Three years of poisoning.
Three years of symptoms.
Three years of fraudulent medical records.
And now the poison was becoming evidence against me.
Julian had designed the entire thing.
He didn't merely want my money.
He wanted a legal diagnosis.
He wanted the world to believe I had lost my mind.
Dr. Mason looked at me.
“He's going to increase the dose.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Phase Four begins after the first formal challenge.”
My blood went cold.
“And what happens in Phase Four?”
The doctor whispered:
“Hallucinations.”
I stared at him.
“Then he can make me appear psychotic.”
“Yes.”
I walked toward the window.
Outside, Julian was speaking with two security staff.
He looked relaxed.
Comfortable.
Certain.
I smiled.
“Good.”
Dr. Mason frowned.
“Good?”
“I want him to try.”
“Gabriel…”
I turned.
“Because the next dose he gives me won't go into my bloodstream.”
I picked up a small syringe containing a harmless tracing solution.
“It will go into evidence.”
Marcus smiled.
“Now we're getting somewhere.”
But before we could finish the plan, a young woman appeared at the door.
She was Dr. Mason's assistant.
She looked terrified.
“Mr. Vance?”
“Yes?”
“I found something in Dr. Mason's archived records.”
“What?”
She handed me a photograph.
A woman standing beside Julian.
She was holding a file.
I recognized her immediately.
My mother.
Dead for eleven years.
The photograph had been taken last month.
I stared.
May you like
My mother was alive.
And she was working with Julian.
