Chapter 11 - Declared Unfit While I Was Reading the Email
By sunrise, I had been declared medically unfit by people who had never examined me.
The irony would have been almost funny if Lily had not been sleeping ten feet away with Nora’s handprint still faintly visible on her cheek.
I called the doctor whose name appeared on the medical summary.
Dr. Jonathan Sloane.
A receptionist answered.
I gave my name.
The line went quiet.
Then Dr. Sloane came on personally.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
“Have we ever met?”
“No.”
“Did you declare me medically incapacitated this morning?”
“No.”
I looked at Grant.
Claire.
Both were listening.
“Your signature appears on a medical report.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I received a copy twenty minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“I was attempting to verify whether the request came from your company.”
“What request?”
“A consultant agreement.”
My jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Last month.”
“From whom?”
“Blackwood Holdings.”
“Specific person.”
“Daniel Price’s office.”
Daniel again.
“What were you hired to do?”
“Review executive-health continuity policy.”
“Did you review me?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see a medical file in my name?”
“Only a template.”
I sat forward.
“A template.”
“Yes.”
“Describe it.”
He did.
Same symptoms as the forged July report.
Same conference room.
Same language.
The first fake medical event had been created from a policy template before a date was inserted.
“Do you still have the original request?”
“Yes.”
“Send it.”
The email arrived.
Attached was the consultant agreement.
Daniel Price had signed for Blackwood Holdings.
But the internal approval line belonged to Claire.
She stared at it.
“That isn’t my signature.”
Grant looked at me.
“Again.”
I hated that word.
Again.
Every road led toward the same small circle.
But every signature could be denied.
Every digital record could be manipulated.
Every person had plausible access.
I asked Dr. Sloane one more question.
“Did anyone ask you to participate in a real capacity examination?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Mr. Price.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I would examine you only directly and independently.”
“And?”
“He said the trust clause allowed documentary review.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I sent a message to your office.”
Claire immediately searched her email.
Nothing.
Dr. Sloane gave the time.
Claire checked the company mail archive through a separate admin portal.
The message existed.
It had reached Blackwood Holdings.
Then it had been rerouted before entering Claire’s inbox.
“Who has mail-routing access?” I asked.
Claire answered slowly.
“IT administrators.”
“Specific people.”
“Three internal admins.”
“Anyone outside IT?”
She hesitated.
“Legal compliance.”
“Daniel.”
“Yes.”
Grant rubbed his jaw.
“That’s enough for me.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
“What more do you need?”
“Something Daniel cannot explain away as routine legal access.”
“You have his voice on a recording.”
“A recording given to us by Nora through you.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
“You think I altered it.”
“I think somebody wants me angry enough to stop asking who benefits.”
Grant stood.
“I benefit on paper.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel benefits through the foundation.”
“Yes.”
“Claire controls board communication.”
“Yes.”
“And Nora touched the tea.”
“Yes.”
Grant looked at all of us.
“Then maybe this isn’t one conspiracy.”
Claire frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe several people are using the same crisis for different reasons.”
That possibility frightened me more than a single mastermind.
One plan could be mapped.
Multiple overlapping betrayals could turn every piece of evidence into noise.
My phone rang.
Mason.
He sounded breathless.
“We found Nora.”
“Where?”
“Inside the villa.”
I stood.
“She never left?”
“No.”
“Where was she?”
“The old wine cellar.”
“Why didn’t the search team find her?”
“She was behind the service storage wall.”
I knew the compartment.
It dated back to renovations before I bought the villa from my father’s estate.
“What condition is she in?”
“Alive.”
“Bring her to the hospital.”
“She refuses.”
“Put her on the phone.”
A few seconds later Nora’s voice came through.
Quiet.
Broken.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
“Why did you hide?”
“I was waiting.”
“For what?”
“For them to come back.”
“Who?”
“They took the bottle.”
My stomach tightened.
“What bottle?”
“The one from my pocket.”
“Who took it?”
“I didn’t see.”
“You had it in the dining room.”
“Yes.”
“What was in it?”
Nora started crying.
“I don’t know the real name.”
“Then tell me what you were told.”
“That it would make you look sick.”
“Who told you?”
She breathed shakily.
Then she said, “Claire.”
Every head in the hospital room turned toward my chief of staff.
Claire went completely still.
Nora continued.
May you like
“Claire gave me the bottle.”
📖 Hear Claire’s answer when Nora finally names her as the person who supplied the bottle—and find out why Nora’s story contains one impossible detail in CHAPTER 12. 👇
