Chapter 8
The door swung open before either David or Sarah could reach it. Standing in the doorway was a tall, angular man in a charcoal gray suit. His hair was iron-gray, slicked back with precise neatness, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses that caught the amber light of the bedside lamp. Behind him stood Mr. Vance, blocking the exit with his massive frame.
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Miller. I am Dr. Sterling," the man said, his voice smooth, professional, and entirely devoid of human warmth. He stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation, carrying a worn leather briefcase that he placed deliberately on the study desk.
Sarah stood up immediately, stepping protectively in front of Toby, who shrank back against the pillows. "You have no legal right to be in this room. We are leaving this estate, and we do not consent to any evaluation."
Dr. Sterling offered a polite, condescending smile that failed to reach his eyes. "Consent is a legal construct, Mrs. Miller, governed by the terms of the Lilywood Trust, which you and your husband signed when you accepted financial assistance for your home mortgage two years ago. Clause fourteen explicitly grants the family-appointed medical officer the authority to assess any minor exhibiting destructive behavioral anomalies on the premises."
David lunged forward, grabbing Dr. Sterling by the lapels of his charcoal suit. "You are nothing more than a hired gun for a lunatic! Get out of this room right now before I throw you out the window!"
Mr. Vance moved with terrifying speed. Before David could apply pressure, Vance’s hand clamped down on David’s wrist with a grip like a hydraulic vice, twisting his arm back with casual cruelty until David stumbled backward, gasping in pain and hitting the edge of the dresser.
"David!" Sarah screamed, rushing to his side.
May you like
Dr. Sterling calmly adjusted his lapels, smoothing the fabric as if nothing had happened. He turned his attention entirely to Toby, walking slowly toward the bed with the detached curiosity of a scientist inspecting a lab specimen. "Hello, Toby. I understand you have been having trouble controlling your impulses. Drawing on walls, screaming when confined, rejecting the structural discipline of your elders."
Toby gripped his small stuffed bear tighter, his pale face draining of what little color it had left. He did not answer, his lower lip trembling as he watched the cold doctor approach.
