Chapter 6 - Hunting the Rogue Doctor
By 1:00 p.m. that same afternoon, the winter sun shone brightly over the manicured suburban streets of Cherry Creek.
A fleet of four unmarked police sedans and a federal forensic unit pulled up outside the gated entrance of Apex Wellness Clinic—an opulent, marble-and-glass medical facility catering to Denver’s ultra-wealthy elite.
I stepped out of Detective Callahan’s car, wearing black leather gloves, watching as federal agents surrounded the building’s exits. Justin walked beside me, his expression grim and resolute.
Inside the clinic, soft classical music echoed through a waiting room adorned with leather couches and crystal chandeliers.
Dr. Aris Thorne—a handsome, fifty-year-old physician with silver hair, wearing an pristine white lab coat—was standing at the reception desk chatting with a wealthy client when Detective Callahan threw open the glass front doors.
"Dr. Aris Thorne?" Callahan announced loudly, displaying his badge. "Denver Police Department and FBI. We have a search warrant for these premises and an arrest warrant for your person."
Dr. Thorne’s aristocratic smile evaporated. "What is the meaning of this insolence?! This is a private, high-profile medical facility! You can't just barge in here—"
"Dr. Thorne," I said, stepping past the officers into the center of the waiting room.
Thorne’s eyes locked onto mine, and he visibly recoiled. "Mrs... Mrs. Rollins?"
"Hello, Doctor," I said calmly. "I believe I’m due for my bi-monthly 'vitality injection' today. Or should we call it what it really was? A custom compound of synthetic hormone suppressants designed to destroy my reproductive system?"
Thorne turned pale, taking a quick step back toward his private office door. "I don't know what you're talking about! All treatments administered in this clinic are compliant with state regulations—"
"Save it, Thorne," Special Agent Brooks interrupted, stepping past him and slapping a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists. "We seized Kenneth Rollins’ safe five hours ago. We have your signed private ledger, your off-the-books cash receipts, and four years of email correspondence detailing the exact dosages you compounded to keep Mrs. Rollins infertile."
"He paid me!" Thorne panicked, dropping all professional pretense as he was slammed against the marble reception desk. "Kenneth paid me fifty thousand dollars a year in untaxed cash! He swore she knew about it! He said it was an agreed-upon birth control protocol because she didn't want children!"
"Is that why you generated forged laboratory reports showing premature ovarian failure?" I asked, walking right up to his ear. "Is that why you lied to my face when I wept in your examination room asking if there was any hope left for me?"
Thorne swallowed hard, unable to look me in the eye. "Please... I have a family... my medical license..."
"Your license is gone, Dr. Thorne," I said coldly. "And by the time the District Attorney is finished with you, you’ll be sharing a cell block with Kenneth."
As the officers dragged the disgraced doctor out of the clinic in front of his gasping patients, Justin turned to me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Sabrina," Justin said softly. "Are you going to be okay?"
May you like
I looked up at the blue Colorado sky, taking a deep, clean breath of the cold mountain air. For the first time in five years, the heavy, suffocating fog that had hung over my mind was gone.
"I’m not just going to be okay, Justin," I said, turning to him with a quiet, powerful smile. "I’m going to go see a real doctor. A legitimate specialist. Because it’s time to find out the truth about my body."
