“Who entered the changes?” Damon asked.
I tapped the access history.
Each alteration required a staff identification code.
The same name appeared beside every increase.
J.
VOSS.
For the first time since I had entered the mansion, Damon looked at the doctor with something more dangerous than anger.
He looked betrayed.
“You told me the labor was slow because Emily was anxious,” he said.
Voss lifted his chin.
“The dose was medically appropriate.”
“Then why did you falsify it?”
“I documented according to my clinical judgment.
Electronic devices produce errors.”
Clara shook her head.
It was a tiny movement, but everyone saw it.
Voss turned toward her.
“Be very careful.”
Clara’s shoulders pulled inward.
I stepped between them.
“Look at me, Clara.
Did the machine make an error?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
Voss’s face tightened.
She continued before fear could close her throat again.
“I asked him to reduce the dose when the baby’s heart rate began falling.
He told me the home delivery had to succeed.
He said a transfer would trigger a review of his private practice.”
Damon stared at Voss.
The Blackwell family had hired him for privacy, believing a discreet medical team would protect Emily from the attention that followed their name.
Voss had turned that privacy into a shield for himself.
His concierge practice depended on wealthy clients who paid for controlled, exclusive treatment outside ordinary hospital settings.
A failed delivery ending in emergency transport would invite questions about his staffing, his records, and the decisions he had made during other private births.
He had not kept Emily in the mansion because it was safer.
He had kept her there because the truth would follow her to the hospital.
A monitor alarm cut through the room.
Emily screamed and gripped the side of the bed.
The baby’s heart rate slowed.
One hundred.
Ninety.
Seventy.
The argument ended instantly.
I switched off the medication infusion and moved to Emily’s bedside.
“Emily, listen to me.
I need to examine you now.”
She nodded, breathing in short, frightened bursts.
Clara came to my side.
Her hands still shook, but once I gave her a direct task, her training took over.
She checked Emily’s blood pressure and prepared the equipment I requested.
Voss moved toward us.
“Do not touch my patient.”
Emily turned her head on the pillow.
“I’m not your patient anymore.”
The words were barely louder than the storm.
