Chapter 5 - The Medical Audit
By seven o'clock that evening, the Blackwell estate was locked down under a level of security usually reserved for active gang wars.
Armed guards stood at every entrance gate. No one was allowed to enter or leave.
In the grand formal library, lit by a roaring marble fireplace, Dr. Aris—a world-renowned pediatric neurologist brought in under armed escort—was conducting a thorough examination of Ethan.
Nathan stood near the window, his arms crossed over his broad chest, staring out into the dark night. I stood near the door, flanked by Marco, still wearing my grass-stained uniform.
Serena was seated on a leather chair in the corner, her hands trembling violently.
Dr. Aris lowered his stethoscope, turned off his small penlight, and stepped back from the examination table where Ethan sat swinging his bare legs back and forth.
"Well, Mr. Blackwell," Dr. Aris said, adjusting his spectacles. "I don't know what you were told by his previous attending physician, but this child does not have permanent spinal cord trauma."
Nathan turned around slowly. "Say that again."
"There is scar tissue around the L4 vertebra, yes," Dr. Aris explained, pointing to a digital X-ray scan on his tablet. "Bu the nerve pathways are intact. What was preventing him from walking was severe muscular atrophy combined with chronic pharmacological suppression."
Dr. Aris picked up the small glass bottle of purple liquid that Marco had retrieved from Serena’s safe.
"This compound," Dr. Aris continued, his tone turning cold and professional, "is a potent mixture of heavy tranquilizers and neuromuscular blockers. Given in daily doses to a six-year-old child, it would make him completely unable to support his own body weight, induce severe depression, and slowly ruin his internal organs."
The silence in the library was suffocating.
Nathan didn't yell. He didn't smash anything.
He simply turned his head toward Serena.
"Why?" Nathan asked. His voice was so quiet it felt like frost spreading over a windowpane.
Serena burst into hysterical tears. "They paid me! Nathan, you have to understand! I had no choice!"
"Who paid you?" Nathan demanded, taking two long, slow strides toward her chair.
"The Moretti family!" Serena sobbed, curling into a ball. "Your late wife’s uncle! They... they knew if Ethan recovered, he would inherit the entire shipping empire when he turned eighteen! They wanted him invalid! They wanted you broken and distracted by a sick child so they could take over the Chicago docks!"
Marco took a sharp breath behind me.
I gripped the edge of my apron, my heart pounding like a hammer against my ribs.
Nathan stopped inches from Serena. He didn't touch her. He didn't need to. The absolute murder in his dark eyes was enough to make her choke on her own breath.
"Marco," Nathan said quietly.
"Yes, Boss?"
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"Take Miss Vance to the basement holding room. Call Dr. Harrison and have him brought there as well. We will discuss their retirement plans later tonight."
"Understood, Boss." Marco grabbed Serena by the arm and dragged her out of the library, her desperate screams echoing down the marble hallway until the double doors slammed shut.
