The false business trips were my only way of putting my bride to shame, but seeing her cruel smile as she attacked my mother made me bleed, until our brave domestic employee discovered the secret pills and forced me to confront the corrupt doctor right in front of her.

"Victor! Thank God!" Sterling blurted out, straining against the heavy industrial zip-ties binding his wrists to the chair arms. "Your security team—they’re insane! They dragged me off the street! This is kidnapping! I’ll have every one of your licenses revoked—"

I walked slowly toward him, pulling off my leather driving gloves and tossing them onto a nearby metal workbench. The metallic clack of my signet ring hitting the steel sounded loud in the cavernous space.

"Dr. Sterling," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Let’s skip the performance. You look like a man who just realized his offshore accounts in the Caymans are about to be frozen by federal mandate."

Sterling swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a physician. My records are clean—"

I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out the clear plastic bag Marta had given me, and dropped it onto his lap. The amber capsules rattled against his crisp white shirt.

Sterling’s eyes locked onto the bag. The blood drained entirely from his face, leaving him the color of skim milk.

"Recognize these?" I asked, leaning in close until I could smell the expensive cologne masking the scent of pure panic. "Custom-compounded neuro-suppressants. Designed to mimic natural neurological decline while systematically shutting down the respiratory system over a ninety-day window. Prescribed under a falsified registry to a patient who doesn't even exist."

"Audrey..." Sterling stammered, his defenses crumbling instantly. "It was Audrey! She came to me six months ago!"

"Start talking," I murmured, resting my hands on the back of a nearby chair. "And make every word count, Richard. Because if I hear a single lie, I’ll let Marcus handle your physical therapy."

"She threatened me!" Sterling sobbed, slumping forward as far as the ties would allow. "She found out about the malpractice settlement I covered up in Cincinnati three years ago. She had the bank records, the witness affidavits, everything! She said if I didn’t formulate a slow-acting compound to keep your mother in a vegetative state and eventually terminate her vitals before the audit, she’d send the file to the state medical board and the U.S. Attorney's office!"

"You traded a human life to save your medical license," I said, the disgust in my voice dripping like acid.

"She promised it would look like natural complications from the stroke!" Sterling cried, tears spilling over his glasses. "I swear to God, Victor, I never wanted to hurt Sylvia! She was always so kind to me when she sat on the hospital board!"

I stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. The man looked pathetic—a coward in a designer suit who traded his oath for blackmail protection.

"You’re going to make a full video confession, Richard," I said, straightening up and gesturing to Marcus, who stepped forward with a digital camera on a tripod. "You’re going to detail every chemical compound, every meeting with Audrey, and every forged signature. And then, you’re going to walk into Judge Caldwell’s courtroom tomorrow morning alongside my legal counsel."