Chapter 6: The Arrival of the False Physician
Ten minutes later, Julian was back in the west wing study, breathless and wide-eyed, recounting the conversation to Arthur and Clara. The revelation about Martha hit Clara the hardest; she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent grief.
"Martha," Clara whispered brokenly. "She held me when my mother died."
"Sentimentality is their weapon, and our weakness," Arthur said, his voice flat and hard as granite. He walked over to the antique gun cabinet mounted beside the fireplace, pulled a brass key from his waistcoat pocket, and unlocked the glass doors. He removed a vintage hunting revolver, checking the chambers with practiced familiarity before sliding six heavy brass rounds into the cylinder.
Clara looked up in alarm. "Dad, you can't—"
"I am not going to shoot anyone, Clara," Arthur interrupted gently. "But I am done fighting this war with paperwork. They have escalated to physical violence and medical assassination. We play by their rules now."
A soft chime echoed from the study’s private intercom. Arthur pressed the speaker button.
"Sir," Martha’s voice crackled through the speaker, sounding entirely normal. "Dr. Vance has arrived at the side entrance. He says he was summoned by your emergency directive regarding Mrs. Sterling’s health."
Arthur exchanged a sharp look with Julian. "Send him up, Martha. And bring a tray of tea for us all."
"Right away, sir."
Arthur clicked off the intercom and turned to Julian. "When Vance walks through that door, I want you blocking the exit. He’s going to confess to the pharmaceutical tampering, or he’s going to spend the rest of his natural life in a federal penitentiary."
"What about Evelyn?" Clara asked, her voice steadying as adrenaline coursed through her veins.
"Evelyn will come running the moment she realizes Vance hasn't returned from this room," Arthur said, pulling a digital audio recorder from his suit pocket and placing it squarely in the center of the mahogany desk. "We are going to record every word."
A minute later, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, followed by a polite, measured knock at the oak door. Arthur nodded to Julian, who stepped silently to the side, his hand resting on the heavy brass door handle.
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"Enter," Arthur commanded.
The door pushed open to reveal Dr. Vance, a silver-haired man in a tailored charcoal suit carrying a black leather medical bag, his expression a masterpiece of clinical concern. Behind him, standing slightly out of sight in the dim hallway, was the faint silhouette of Evelyn in her beige dress.
