Chapter 5 - The Medical Mask
Over the next four days, I played the role of a dying man with terrifying perfection.
I intentionally missed two secondary board calls, letting Richard Vance handle the executive briefings. I walked around the Lake Forest estate with a slight stagger, pretending to suffer from dizziness and disorientation. When Vanessa spoke to me, I stared at her mouth with exaggerated desperation, repeatedly asking her to repeat herself.
"Arthur, darling, you really need to let Dr. Sterling examine you again," Vanessa said on Wednesday evening as we sat in the living room.
Dr. Sterling was the high-profile neurologist Vanessa had personally recommended to me three months ago—the same doctor who had repeatedly claimed my hearing loss was due to "stress and autoimmune fatigue."
"Dr. Sterling is coming here tonight," Vanessa added softly, stroking my hair as I lay my head on her lap. "He wants to give you a special intravenous vitamin therapy to help with the dizziness before Friday's board meeting."
My translation app, running quietly on the smartwatch strapped beneath my long sleeve, confirmed every word.
Intravenous vitamin therapy.
They were accelerating the timeline. They realized Friday’s board meeting was the deadline to force me into signing over my voting power, and they wanted me so mentally incapacitated by Friday morning that I wouldn't have the strength to fight back.
"Okay," I whispered weakly, closing my eyes. "Whatever you think is best, Vanessa."
At 8:00 PM, Dr. Sterling arrived at the estate. He was a sleek, silver-haired physician in his fifties, carrying a leather medical bag that looked more suited for expensive concierge house calls than legitimate neurology.
"Arthur, my boy," Dr. Sterling said loudly, over-enunciating his words as if speaking to a child. "Vanessa tells me the tinnitus and auditory dropouts are severe."
"I can barely hear you, Doctor," I slurred slightly, letting my eyelids droop.
"Don't worry," Dr. Sterling smiled, opening his bag and pulling out a pre-filled IV bag containing a yellowish fluid, along with a sterile needle set. "This intravenous neuro-nutrient bag will flush the inflammatory proteins from your inner ear. It will take about forty-five minutes to infuse."
While Dr. Sterling set up the IV pole beside my lounge chair, Vanessa stepped out of the room to "fetch some fresh water."
Dr. Sterling swabbed my arm with alcohol. "Just a quick pinch, Arthur."
The second Dr. Sterling turned his back to adjust the IV drip line, Marcus stepped out from behind the heavy velvet curtains near the library door.
With lightning-fast, military precision, Marcus placed a cloth soaked in a fast-acting sedative over Dr. Sterling’s nose and mouth. The doctor gasped, thrashing for three seconds, before his eyes rolled back and his body went completely limp in Marcus's arms.
Marcus quietly lowered the unconscious doctor onto the carpet behind the velvet curtain.
I sat up instantly, pulling off my act of physical weakness like a discarded coat.
"Did you swap the IV bag?" I asked Marcus quietly.
Marcus pulled a duplicate bag filled with standard, harmless saline from his tactical vest and hooked it to the IV pole, dropping the toxic neuro-nutrient bag into a biohazard transport pouch.
"Saline is hooked up," Marcus whispered. "Now lie back down and put the catheter tape on your arm. Make it look like you're receiving the drip."
I taped the harmless saline line to my arm, lay back on the lounge chair, and closed my eyes just as the door opened.
Vanessa stepped back into the room holding a tray with a glass of water. She looked at the hanging IV bag, then glanced around the quiet room.
"Where did Dr. Sterling go?" she asked, looking puzzled.
"He... he said he had to use the guest restroom," I mumbled weakly, keeping my eyes half-closed.
Vanessa looked at the saline dripping steadily into my vein, a look of profound, dark triumph washing over her face. She walked over to the chair, leaning down until her lips were inches from my ear.
"Sleep well, Arthur," she whispered in a tone so cold it could freeze water. "You've worked so hard. It's time to let us take care of everything."
She walked out of the room, shutting the heavy doors behind her.
Behind the curtain, Dr. Sterling was securely bound, gagged, and hooked to a silent vitals monitor. Marcus stepped out, holding the toxic IV bag in his hand.
"This bag goes straight to Dr. Aris at the lab," Marcus said grimly. "We just secured the physical proof of attempted murder via a licensed physician."
"Dr. Sterling will wake up in a private holding facility under your team's watch," I ordered, my voice filled with dark resolve. "By Friday morning, he will either sign a full confession detailing Vanessa and Richard's payments, or he will spend the rest of his natural life in a maximum-security prison."
"He'll talk," Marcus said quietly. "Men like Sterling break the second they lose their medical licenses and golf club memberships."
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I looked out the window toward the dark expanse of Lake Michigan.
Thirty-six hours until the board meeting. Thirty-six hours until the trap closed.
