Chapter 8 - The Doctor Who Called It Stress
Dr. Laura Keene had treated Madeline for four years.
Annual physicals.
Postpartum care coordination.
Sleep problems.
Everything.
Three weeks earlier, when Madeline started feeling dizzy, Laura said her lab work looked normal.
“Stress.”
“Dehydration.”
“New-parent exhaustion.”
Madeline trusted her.
So did I.
Now her voice was on a recording with my mother and brother.
Laura was immediately removed from Madeline’s care while the hospital and authorities investigated.
Her records were preserved.
The findings were horrifying.
Laura had prescribed the sedating medication.
Not to Madeline.
To a fictitious patient profile created through an affiliated clinic.
The profile used Claire Beaumont’s date of birth.
That explained the fake Claire label.
The conspiracy intended to create a pharmaceutical trail pointing toward Claire and Serena.
If Madeline merely appeared confused, Laura could document “cognitive concerns.”
If Madeline collapsed, suspicion could move toward the mysterious Beaumont relatives.
Why?
Because Madeline was threatening the company.
And Sylvia needed her discredited before Friday’s board meeting.
I confronted Harrison through our attorneys.
He denied knowing Madeline was being medicated.
“I agreed to slow her down professionally.”
“What does that mean?”
“Make the board question her credibility.”
“You met with the doctor.”
“I thought Laura was going to document stress.”
“You thought falsifying medical impressions was okay?”
He looked away.
That told me enough about his morality.
But he insisted Sylvia and Gavin handled the rest without him.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Evidence would decide.
Then Gavin was located.
He hadn't fled.
He was sitting in a lawyer's office negotiating surrender.
He wanted a deal.
Cowardice can be useful.
He admitted entering Madeline’s room.
He admitted transporting medication.
He admitted planting the insulated bag.
But he claimed he never injected anything into Madeline’s IV.
“Who did?”
“Laura.”
My stomach twisted.
According to Gavin, Madeline had been admitted after collapsing at home.
Laura used her credentials to gain access.
She introduced a small dose through an IV port, expecting Madeline to remain unconscious long enough for them to retrieve the flash drive.
They searched her handbag.
Her coat.
Her room.
They didn't find it.
Because Poppy had the rabbit.
Then Gavin planted Claire-labeled medication.
Later he planted the vial in Serena’s bag.
The plan was simple:
Madeline wakes.
Appears confused.
Serena looks suspicious.
Claire becomes the source.
Family scandal stays buried.
Except Madeline didn't wake as quickly as expected.
Laura panicked.
The dosage interacted unpredictably with another medication Madeline legitimately took.
The “controlled delay” became a medical emergency.
I wanted to destroy them.
Instead, I stayed beside my wife.
Because vengeance wasn't what she needed.
Then Madeline finally moved.
A finger.
Then her eyelids.
“Madeline?”
Her eyes opened slightly.
Poppy screamed:
“MOMMY!”
Madeline turned toward our daughter.
Tears slid down her temples.
Then she looked at me.
Her first word was barely audible.
“Serena.”
I looked toward Serena.
Madeline whispered:
“Don't… blame her.”
Serena broke down crying.
Then Madeline looked at me again.
“Your mother…”
“I know.”
She squeezed my fingers weakly.
“No.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“You don't.”
My chest tightened.
“What don't I know?”
Madeline swallowed.
“Why she did it.”
I thought I did.
Money.
Reputation.
The company.
Madeline shook her head.
Then whispered:
“Poppy.”
My blood turned cold.
May you like
The conspiracy wasn't only about the old trial.
Something about my fourteen-month-old daughter was at the center of Sylvia’s panic.
