Chapter 2 - The Doctor Who Didn’t Touch the Screw
Dr. Naomi Serrano arrived forty-two minutes later.
She was not part of Dominic’s medical team.
That mattered.
Vincent found her through a Chicago sports-medicine specialist who had treated professional athletes and corporate executives with enough money to make privacy expensive.
Naomi entered the estate carrying one black case and zero patience.
She was forty-six, compact, sharp-eyed, and unimpressed by architecture.
When a guard attempted to search her bag twice, she told him that if he opened the sterile compartment with dirty gloves she would make him pay for every instrument inside.
The guard looked at Vincent.
Vincent waved her through.
Dominic sat in the private rehabilitation room with his trouser leg rolled above the brace.
Clare stood near the doorway.
Ellie sat on the carpet with her wooden latch board.
Arthur had been moved to the library under observation.
He had protested.
Dominic did not care.
Naomi knelt beside the brace.
“Who fitted this?”
“Dr. Stephen Orton.”
“When?”
“Nine weeks ago.”
“Last adjustment?”
“Three weeks.”
“By whom?”
“Orton’s therapist.”
Naomi inspected the hinge.
Then the lower strap.
Then stopped.
Her eyes changed.
“What?”
Dominic asked.
She did not answer immediately.
Instead she opened her case and removed a torque tool.
She checked the lateral hinge.
Then the medial one.
The first clicked immediately.
The second required more force.
Naomi looked at Vincent.
“Take pictures before I change anything.”
Vincent did.
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“How bad?”
“The lateral hinge has been adjusted past the recommended range.”
“Meaning?”
“It is mechanically restricting flexion and pushing the joint into an abnormal line when you load weight.”
Clare covered her mouth.
Dominic looked down at his leg.
“Could that explain the pain?”
“Yes.”
“The weakness?”
“Potentially.”
“Three weeks?”
“Potentially.”
He heard the word.
Not certainty.
Good.
Dominic valued careful people.
Naomi continued.
“The lower strap is also reversed.”
Ellie looked up instantly.
“Wrong.”
Everyone looked at her.
Naomi smiled faintly.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Ellie pointed.
“Shiny part outside.”
Naomi examined the clasp.
“She’s right.”
Dominic’s gaze moved to Clare.
The mother looked stunned.
Naomi explained.
“This buckle assembly is designed so the locking tab faces inward toward the protected plate. Someone removed the strap and rethreaded it.”
“Could that happen accidentally?”
Naomi considered.
“Possible.”
“How likely?”
“Low.”
“Could normal wear reverse a strap?”
“No.”
Silence.
Dominic felt something cold settle under his ribs.
“Would Orton have done it?”
“Not if he knew how the brace works.”
“He prescribed it.”
“Then presumably he knows.”
Vincent asked, “Could someone without medical training do this?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Small hex key. Five minutes. Maybe less.”
Dominic thought of his bedroom.
His dressing area.
The brace removed during showers.
Physical therapy.
Night.
House staff.
Arthur.
Too many possibilities.
Naomi loosened the hinge incrementally.
Dominic breathed through the discomfort.
Then she asked him to extend the knee.
He tried.
The movement was limited.
Again.
A little more.
Naomi adjusted.
“Again.”
The third time, his leg moved farther than it had in nearly a month.
Vincent stared.
Clare did too.
Dominic said nothing.
Hope could make intelligent men stupid.
He would not trust one improvement.
Naomi finished the adjustment.
“Stand.”
Dominic took the cane.
Vincent moved closer.
Dominic glared.
“I can stand.”
“I know.”
“Then back up.”
Vincent backed up half a step.
Dominic rose.
The first moment hurt.
Then something strange happened.
The familiar cutting pressure along the outside of his calf was less.
Not gone.
Less.
He shifted weight carefully.
Naomi watched.
“Walk six steps.”
He did.
One.
Two.
Three.
Still stiff.
Four.
Five.
Six.
But the leg did not buckle.
Dominic stopped.
For weeks, every six-step walk had ended with him gripping furniture.
Not now.
Naomi said, “Sit.”
He obeyed.
That alone showed how shaken he was.
“How long would it take to make my condition appear worse?”
Naomi removed her gloves.
“With repeated mechanical restriction and poor rehabilitation positioning?”
“Yes.”
“Days to weeks.”
“And if a doctor saw me deteriorating?”
“They should reassess imaging, hardware, brace fit, nerve function.”
“Mine called it expected inflammation.”
Naomi’s mouth tightened.
“Who?”
“Orton.”
She looked at Vincent.
“Get his notes.”
Vincent said, “Working on it.”
Dominic turned toward Clare.
“You said Arthur entered my room.”
She nodded.
“How long?”
“Maybe two minutes.”
“Was anyone else there?”
“Mrs. Avery came later.”
Dominic knew Eleanor Avery.
Head housekeeper.
Sixty-three.
Worked for his family twenty-five years.
Trusted.
Which suddenly meant nothing.
“Anyone else?”
Clare hesitated.
“Dr. Orton.”
Dominic went still.
“When?”
“The same day.”
“Before Arthur?”
“After.”
Naomi looked up.
“Was the brace off?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“On the chair.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Did Orton examine it?”
Clare nodded slowly.
“I think so.”
Vincent said, “Boss.”
Dominic looked.
“Orton’s office sent records.”
“Anything?”
Vincent scrolled.
“Progress note three weeks ago says brace alignment normal.”
Naomi frowned.
“Did he inspect the hinge that day?”
“That’s what the note says.”
Dominic leaned back.
If Orton had inspected it after Arthur entered the room, then one of three things was true.
Arthur changed the brace and Orton missed it.
Orton changed it himself.
Or both men were involved.
He hated simple conspiracies.
Reality was usually uglier.
Vincent’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
Then looked at Dominic.
“What?”
“Arthur requested a lawyer.”
Dominic almost laughed.
“He hasn’t been accused of anything.”
“Apparently he feels accused.”
Naomi packed her case.
“That’s your business.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You’re leaving?”
“I finished the examination.”
“I need you here.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“You need a doctor you can trust. You do not know me well enough for that.”
“I know you told me what you could prove.”
“That is a low bar.”
“Not in this house.”
Clare looked down.
Dominic noticed.
The statement embarrassed him more than he expected.
Naomi softened slightly.
“I can stay for imaging.”
“Do it.”
She nodded.
Ellie returned to her latch toy.
Click.
Open.
Click.
Close.
Dominic watched.
A child who noticed patterns because nobody had taught her which details adults considered important.
“Ellie.”
The child looked up.
“Come here.”
Clare immediately tensed.
“It’s okay.”
Ellie approached slowly.
Dominic took the brace adjustment key from Naomi.
He held it up.
“Have you seen one like this?”
Ellie studied it.
Then nodded.
Clare inhaled.
“Where?”
Ellie pointed toward the conference room.
Everyone turned.
“Who had it?”
Ellie frowned, trying to remember.
Then she pointed toward the closed glass doors.
“Gray hair.”
Arthur.
Vincent swore quietly.
Dominic remained still.
“When did you see him with it?”
“Yesterday.”
“Where?”
“By your chair.”
Dominic looked at Clare.
She whispered, “She was with me yesterday too.”
Arthur had been in the great room.
Dominic remembered.
Dominic had removed the brace briefly after therapy because the skin beneath the strap hurt.
Arthur sat nearby reviewing vote documents.
Dominic had gone upstairs to change shirts.
Seven minutes.
No security camera inside the great room because Dominic hated indoor surveillance.
Enough time.
Vincent said, “I’ll bring him.”
“No.”
Dominic stood.
His knee still hurt.
But the gait was better.
“No more private conversations.”
He looked toward the conference room.
“Open the doors.”
Six council members rose when Dominic entered.
Arthur sat at the head.
He had chosen that chair while Dominic was delayed.
A small detail.
Once, Dominic would have ignored it.
Today it looked like a confession.
Arthur smiled.
“Feeling better?”
Dominic walked the length of the room.
Without stopping.
Arthur’s smile weakened.
Dominic reached the opposite chair.
His chair.
He remained standing.
“Much.”
Nobody spoke.
Dominic placed the brace tool on the table.
Arthur’s eyes flickered.
There.
Half a second.
Enough.
Dominic said, “The vote is postponed.”
Arthur leaned back.
“On whose authority?”
Dominic looked at him.
“Mine.”
“Your incapacity clause—”
“Has not been activated.”
“Yet.”
That one word changed everything.
Dominic heard ambition naked for the first time.
He leaned both hands on the table.
“My brace was altered.”
Several men reacted.
Arthur didn’t.
Too controlled.
Dominic continued.
“My deterioration was not natural.”
One councilman whispered, “What are you saying?”
“I am saying someone wanted me weaker than I am.”
Arthur scoffed.
“Medical setbacks happen.”
Dominic picked up the adjustment key.
“My four-year-old witness disagrees.”
Arthur laughed.
“A child?”
“Yes.”
May you like
Dominic smiled without warmth.
“And unlike everyone at this table, she has no reason to want my chair.”
