“That’s remarkable,” Wright said, his voice full of fake admiration. “Truly incredible. Because at 7:00 a.m., Dr. Reed, Mr. Shaw was sitting in my office in my presence, perfectly calm, drinking coffee, and preparing for this very hearing. So I ask you again, doctor—who exactly did you see this morning?”
The blood drained from Reed’s face. He was caught in a direct, verifiable lie.
“I…I must have…I must have mistaken the time. It was…It was yesterday.”
“Let’s move on,” Wright said, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s talk about your finances, doctor. You mentioned you were concerned about Mr. Shaw’s. Are you concerned about your own?”
Jennings jumped to his feet.
“Objection, Your Honor. Relevance?”
“It is entirely relevant, Your Honor,” Wright boomed. “It speaks directly to this witness’s motive and credibility.”
“Overruled,” the judge snapped. “Answer the question, doctor.”
Reed was pale.
“I…I don’t see what my personal finances—”
“Don’t you?”
Wright walked to a legal easel and placed a large document on it. It was a bank statement.
“Do you recognize this account, doctor? It’s an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. Your name?”
“That—that’s…that’s private.”
“Not anymore,” Wright said. “Now, let’s look at this. A payment. And another. And another. Bi-weekly payments coming from a shell corporation called RF Imports. Are you familiar with RF Imports, doctor?”
Reed said nothing. He was just sweating.
“Let me help you,” Wright continued. “RF Imports is a shell company owned by Mr. Ryan Ford, your patient’s son-in-law.”
Wright flipped the page to a summary sheet.
“For six months, Dr. Reed, you have been receiving payments from Mr. Ford into this offshore account. The total, as of last week, is $310,000.
“So, Dr. Reed,” Wright’s voice dropped to a quiet, lethal growl, “I have two questions for you. First, is $310,000 your standard fee for treating so-called senile paranoia?”
Reed just shook his head, mute.
“Second,” Wright said, moving closer, “my investigator found that this account is directly linked to several online sports betting sites. Is it true, Dr. Reed, that you are over $300,000 in debt to Mr. Ryan Ford’s personal bookie?”
Reed broke.
It wasn’t a slow crumble. It was a complete shattering implosion.
He let out a strangled sob.
“He…he owned me,” he shrieked, the words tearing out of him. “He owned my debt. He…he said he’d ruin me. He said he’d report me to the medical board. He…he told me the old man was already confused. He said it would be easy. He was sobbing now. He said he just needed a medical opinion to protect his family. He…he gave me the vial. He told me what to say. It was…It was all him. He planned it all. He forced me.”
He collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands, his whole body shaking.
The judge stared, aghast. The stenographer’s fingers were flying. Jennings slowly sat down, his case and his career evaporating before his eyes.
And Ryan—Ryan just sat there, frozen, his mask of sanity completely gone, his eyes wide and empty. He had lost, and he knew it.
Dr. Reed’s confession hung in the air, thick and toxic.
But Ryan Ford wasn’t finished. He wasn’t going to go down that easily.
