Chapter 2 - THE RECORDS
Claire arrived twenty minutes later.
She didn't hug me at first.
She just stood in the doorway and looked at me.
At the bruises.
At the brace lying on the table.
At my face.
Then she crossed the room and pulled me into her arms.
I broke.
I hadn't cried in months.
Not properly.
Marcus hated crying.
He called it manipulation.
So I'd learned to swallow tears until my chest hurt.
But Claire held me like I was still her little sister, and everything came out.
“I should have believed you,” she whispered.
“You didn't know.”
“I knew something was wrong.”
She pulled back.
“No. I knew something was wrong, and I let Marcus convince me otherwise.”
She took a folder from her purse.
“I've been investigating your medical records.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because the timeline didn't make sense.”
She opened the folder.
“Look.”
The first page was from the emergency room three months earlier.
My accident.
Two fractured ribs.
Lower-back trauma.
A concussion ruled out.
No psychiatric diagnosis.
Claire tapped another page.
“This is the discharge summary.”
Then another.
“Now look at this.”
It was a document I'd never seen.
A psychiatric referral.
I stared at it.
The signature looked like mine.
But it wasn't.
“I never signed this.”
“I know.”
Claire's voice was shaking.
“I contacted the clinic. They said the referral came through Marcus.”
My heart began pounding.
“Why would he do that?”
Claire looked at me.
“Because once you're labeled mentally unstable, everything you say becomes easier to dismiss.”
The room suddenly felt cold.
I thought about every conversation.
Every appointment.
Every time Marcus answered for me.
Every time he told someone I was confused.
Every time I tried to explain something and he interrupted.
He hadn't been improvising.
He had been building a story.
Dr. Shepherd entered the room.
“I need to tell you something else.”
Claire stood.
“What?”
Dr. Shepherd held a tablet.
“Your husband has contacted several medical providers since the accident.”
My throat tightened.
“For what?”
“He repeatedly requested documentation stating that you were incapable of making safe decisions.”
Claire stared at him.
“Did anyone give him that?”
“No.”
Dr. Shepherd paused.
“But someone accessed her patient portal.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“The login came from a device registered to your husband's phone.”
Claire swore under her breath.
Dr. Shepherd continued.
“There are also several notes in your chart that you didn't provide.”
I looked at him.
“What notes?”
He hesitated.
“Statements describing you as disoriented, aggressive, paranoid, and incapable of self-care.”
“I never said those things.”
“I know.”
He looked at Claire.
“And that's why I called your father.”
Claire closed the folder.
“Where is Marcus?”
Dad appeared in the doorway.
“Police are talking to him.”
My heart stopped.
“Police?”
Dad nodded.
“He tried to leave.”
Claire looked at him.
“Did he have the key?”
Dad's expression darkened.
“Yes.”
“The padlock key?”
“Yes.”
Claire pulled out her phone.
“Then don't let him destroy it.”
Dad looked confused.
“Destroy what?”
“The evidence.”
A sound came from the hallway.
A nurse shouting.
Then footsteps.
Dad turned.
Two officers entered the room.
Behind them was Marcus.
His face was calm.
Far too calm.
He looked directly at me.
“Emma,” he said softly.
Then he smiled.
“You're making a terrible mistake.”
One officer placed a hand on his shoulder.
Marcus didn't resist.
Instead, he looked at Claire.
“You shouldn't have gotten involved.”
Claire stepped closer.
“You should have thought about that before you chained my sister to a hospital brace.”
Marcus smiled.
“No one understands what I've had to deal with.”
Then he looked at me.
“And when the truth comes out, you'll wish you had listened to me.”
The officers led him away.
I thought it was over.
I was wrong.
Because twenty minutes later, Dr. Shepherd received an email.
The subject line contained three words:
PATIENT THREAT ASSESSMENT.
Attached was a document claiming I had threatened to kill my husband.
May you like
And beneath the accusation was my forged signature.
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