CHAPTER 8: THE DOCTOR AT THE TRUST OFFICE
Grant looked different on the reception camera.
Not sorry. Not even angry.
Polished.
Black coat over a dark shirt. Freshly shaved. One hand wrapped in white gauze as if he had borrowed pain for credibility.
Dr. Victor Albright stood beside him, silver-haired and calm, carrying a leather satchel.
Nora called security before anyone spoke.
Detective Voss called two uniformed officers downstairs.
Simon Hale whispered, “I am so sorry.”
Claire watched the monitor.
“No. Let them come to the door.”
Nora turned. “Claire.”
“They came here because they think I’ll hide. Let them meet a closed door.”
Grant and Albright were stopped outside the glass conference room. They could see Claire through the wall, sitting upright with her bandaged arm resting on the table.
Grant tried the handle.
Locked.
Security stepped in front of him.
“This is a private meeting.”
Grant lifted his injured hand for the cameras. “My wife needs care. She attacked me last night and fled before we could help her.”
Claire did not move.
Albright stepped forward. “I am prepared to place Mrs. Brooks under emergency psychiatric hold if necessary.”
Nora opened the door just enough.
“On what legal basis?”
Albright smiled politely. “Clinical concern.”
“You have never examined her.”
“I reviewed collateral.”
“From alleged co-conspirators.”
His smile thinned.
Grant looked past Nora. “Claire. Honey. Come out. We can still fix this.”
That honey had once worked on her. It had once made her search his face for the man she married.
Now it sounded like a hook dragged through velvet.
Detective Voss stepped into the hallway behind them.
“Mr. Brooks, you are in violation of a protective order.”
Grant’s confidence flickered.
“I came with a doctor.”
“You came to a location where your wife is conducting legal business after being ordered not to contact her.”
Albright lifted his satchel. “Detective, I advise caution. Mrs. Brooks has a documented history of instability.”
Nora handed him a copy of the warrant preservation order.
“And you have a documented history of creating that claim.”
Officers arrived.
Grant stepped back.
Too late.
His phone rang.
Elaine.
Because of course.
Voss asked, “Will you answer on speaker?”
Grant refused.
Voss obtained a warrant later, but the voicemail Elaine left did enough damage.
Her voice was cold, urgent, unguarded.
“Do not let her leave without signing something. Morrow says if we lose the Northgate window, the whole structure collapses. Albright can certify risk if Claire refuses. Tell him to use the arm photos.”
The hallway went silent.
Albright’s face became unreadable.
Grant closed his eyes.
Claire stood slowly.
Through the glass, she looked at her husband.
“You had a chance to tell the truth.”
Grant’s mouth moved.
No sound.
Security escorted him and Albright away. Albright’s license board would receive the evidence by evening. Grant would be arrested two hours later for violating the protective order and suspected conspiracy.
But the bigger shock came from Simon.
He had been searching Morrow Strategic’s upload trail.
“There is a folder here called Case Model.”
Nora moved beside him.
The folder contained templates: staged instability reports, family statements, police-call scripts, medical-review language, asset-control petitions.
But one subfolder carried Claire’s name.
Inside was a video file.
Recorded two months earlier from inside Claire’s bedroom.
She stared at the screen, unable to breathe.
Grant had not been spying on the kitchen.
Not just the living room.
The cameras had been in places she had never imagined.
Then the first frame loaded.
Elaine stood in Claire’s bedroom, holding a small black device.
May you like
Beside her stood Dennis.
And behind them, smiling at the camera, was Dr. Albright.
