Chapter 3: What the Doctor Ordered
Jonathan did not sleep.
He lay in the dark with the USB drive pressed under his palm and thought about Dr.
Hale.
Thought about every visit.
Every grim prognosis delivered in that careful, measured voice.
Every test result explained with just enough medical language to make questions feel foolish.
"Lucas," he said.
"How long has Dr.
Hale been my attending physician?"
Lucas was still in the chair by the window, unwilling to leave.
"About six weeks, sir.
He took over from Dr.
Reyes after she went on leave."
"And who requested that transfer?"
Lucas opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"I…
I don't know.
I'd have to check."
"Check," Jonathan said.
"Quietly."
Lucas left.
Jonathan stared at the ceiling.
Six weeks.
Victoria had begun the digoxin long before that — she'd said so herself, on the recording.
But a cardiologist who misread the cause, who steered the diagnosis, who confirmed a dying timeline that wasn't entirely natural — that was something different.
That was a second pair of hands.
Lucas returned in twelve minutes.
He stood in the doorway and didn't come further in.
"Mr.
Mercer.
The transfer request came from hospital administration.
But the form was co-signed by a patient advocate."
"Name?"
"The signature is hard to read.
But the printed name underneath—" Lucas looked at the paper in his hand.
"It says V.
Mercer."
Jonathan closed his eyes.
Not from pain.
From the specific, clarifying feeling of a picture becoming complete.
"She chose my doctor," he said.
"It looks that way, sir."
"All right." Jonathan pushed himself upright against the pillow.
"Call my attorney again.
I need him back here by seven.
And I need you to do something for me before then."
"What is it?"
"I need you to go to Dr.
Hale's office.
Don't knock.
Don't announce yourself.
Just walk past slowly and tell me if anyone is in there with him."
Lucas hesitated.
"It's nearly four in the morning."
"Yes," Jonathan said.
"It is."
Lucas understood.
He left without another word.
He was back in eight minutes.
He closed the door behind him and stood very still.
"There was someone in there," Lucas said.
"I couldn't see clearly through the glass.
But I heard a voice.
A woman's voice."
"What did she say?"
"She said—" Lucas swallowed.
"'He won't last the week.
Stop worrying.'"
The heart monitor ticked steadily in the silence that followed.
Jonathan reached for his phone on the bedside table.
His attorney's number was already on the screen.
But he didn't dial it yet.
He looked at Lucas instead.
"Sit down," Jonathan said.
Lucas sat.
"I'm going to tell you what I need from you.
All of it.
And then you're going to decide whether you're willing.
I won't hold it against you if the answer is no."
"Tell me," Lucas said.
"I need a witness.
Someone who was in this room, who heard what I heard, who can testify to what they saw.
Someone the court will believe — not because they're powerful, but because they have no reason to lie." Jonathan looked at him steadily.
"That's you, Lucas."
Lucas was quiet for a long moment.
"And Chloe?" he asked finally.
"You mentioned the will."
"I did," Jonathan said.
"Her surgery will be covered.
Fully.
Regardless of what happens to me.
That is already signed and sealed.
I'm not offering it as payment.
I'm telling you so you know it's done, and your answer to me has nothing to do with it."
Lucas looked at the floor.
His jaw worked silently for a moment.
"She's been on the waiting list for fourteen months," he said.
"I know."
"She had a bad episode last Tuesday.
I didn't tell anyone here because I didn't want them to think I was distracted."
"I know that too," Jonathan said gently.
"I heard you on the phone."
Lucas looked up.
His eyes were wet.
"Tell me what you need me to do," he said.
Jonathan nodded once.
He dialed his attorney.
Outside the window, Chicago was still dark.
But in room 412 of St.
Jude Medical Center, something had shifted — quietly, irrevocably — like a lock turning in a door that Victoria Mercer didn't know existed.
May you like
She would arrive at eight o'clock with fresh flowers and a sympathetic smile.
She had no idea that by then, two people in that room would already know exactly who she was.
