Chapter 12 - The Sealed Medical Record
Julian vanished into the night as quickly as he had arrived, leaving behind a slip of paper that carried the sulfuric stench of family betrayal.
It was a formal records-request subpoena issued by a private probate court in Delaware, signed by a magistrate whose name was synonymous with political favors for the old-money elite. The request demanded every vial of blood, every toxicology screening, and every clinical chart recorded on the night Emma collapsed from anaphylactic shock.
Chloe wasn't just trying to avoid prison; she was trying to rewrite history.
At 6:00 AM, I was pacing Maya’s home office in the neighboring town. Maya was already on her third cup of espresso, dual computer monitors illuminating her sharp features with harsh blue light.
"It’s legally absurd," Maya muttered, furiously typing away at her keyboard. "Emma went into cardiac arrest because Chloe replaced her prescription epinephrine auto-injectors with saline, and swapped her maintenance antihistamines with sugar tablets. We have the hospital lab results. We have the surveillance footage of Chloe entering your home that afternoon!"
"The footage was suppressed during the preliminary plea deal," I reminded her, my voice dropping an octave. "My mother’s attorneys argued chain of custody violations because the security camera belonged to the building association, not my personal unit."
Maya stopped typing. She spun her leather chair around to face me. "Lauren, your mother used her own dowry trust to clear Chloe’s slate. Do you understand what that means? Eleanor has completely chosen a side. She burned her entire social standing in Boston just to pull your sister out of that holding cell."
"I don't care about Eleanor’s social standing," I said coldly. "I care about Emma’s safety. If they subpoena the hospital, Dr. Sterling’s testimony is our only firewall."
"Then we need to call Richard right now," Maya said, reaching for her desk phone.
The phone rang four times before clicking over to an automated message: *The subscriber you are trying to reach has been temporarily disconnected.*
Maya and I locked eyes. Richard Sterling had been Emma’s pediatric cardiologist since the night she was rushed to St. Jude’s. He had risked his hospital board seat to testify against Chloe's defense team during the initial grand jury investigation. He didn't turn his phone off—not on a weekday morning.
"Drive to the clinic," I said, grabbing my car keys off Maya's desk. "Now."
We arrived at St. Jude’s Children's Pavilion forty minutes later. The morning sun was reflecting off the glass facade, casting blinding spears of light across the concrete plaza. We took the service elevators straight to the fourth floor.
The reception area was dead quiet. The glass partition of the nursing station was drawn shut. Taped to the frosted glass was a freshly printed notice on legal letterhead:
*Dr. Richard Sterling has taken an indefinite administrative leave of absence pending an internal institutional audit. All patient files under his care have been transferred to Chief Medical Director Gregory Sterling.*
I felt the blood drain from my face.
May you like
Gregory Sterling. The man in the photograph Julian had slipped me. The man circled in red ink at the canceled engagement party.
***
