Chapter 3
The doctor arrived twenty minutes later.
His name was Dr. Samuel Brooks.
He was a tall Black man in his fifties with a calm voice and serious eyes.
He pulled a chair beside my bed.
"Naomi, I'm glad you're awake."
I stared at him.
"Why was I unconscious?"
He paused.
"You were admitted after a sudden collapse accompanied by severe confusion and reduced responsiveness."
I swallowed.
"Was it a stroke?"
"No evidence of a stroke was found on your initial scans."
I looked toward the medical monitor.
"Then what happened?"
Dr. Brooks folded his hands.
"We're still investigating."
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?"
He looked at me carefully.
"Your symptoms may have been caused by exposure to a medication or substance that affected your nervous system."
I stopped breathing.
"Medication?"
He nodded.
"We've ordered additional toxicology testing."
My mind raced backward.
The kitchen.
The glass of water.
Marcus standing beside the counter.
Then darkness.
I looked at Dr. Brooks.
"Are you saying somebody drugged me?"
His expression remained careful.
"I'm saying we need the test results before drawing conclusions."
I stared at him.
"But it's possible?"
"Yes."
My hands began trembling.
Dr. Brooks leaned forward.
"Naomi, do you remember taking any new medication before you collapsed?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Any sleeping pills?"
"No."
"Anything prescribed by another physician?"
"No."
He nodded.
"Then we'll investigate further."
I looked toward the door.
"My husband was there when I collapsed."
Dr. Brooks waited.
I swallowed.
"And he didn't seem surprised."
The doctor wrote something down.
"That's important information."
I stared at him.
"Can you make sure he doesn't come back?"
He nodded.
"We'll coordinate with the care team and security regarding your visitor preferences."
Relief washed over me.
Then I remembered the papers.
"Doctor, what did Marcus sign?"
Dr. Brooks looked serious.
"He submitted a form requesting recognition as your temporary healthcare representative."
My chest tightened.
"Was that approved?"
"No."
I exhaled.
He continued.
"Your care team had not established that you lacked the ability to make decisions permanently, and the request required review."
I stared at him.
"What treatment was he trying to change?"
The doctor paused.
"He asked about transferring you to a private rehabilitation facility."
My stomach turned.
"Where?"
"A facility outside the city."
I froze.
"Why?"
"He claimed you would receive better long-term care there."
I looked down at my hands.
My bracelets were gone from my wrists.
My husband had been discussing moving me somewhere else while I lay unconscious.
A place away from my daughter.
Away from my sister.
Away from anyone who might notice what he was doing.
I swallowed.
"Was the transfer scheduled?"
"No."
Relief flooded through me.
Dr. Brooks continued.
"And now that you're awake, your wishes are central to any such decision."
I nodded.
"Then I don't want to go."
"I understand."
He stood.
"We'll focus on your recovery."
Before leaving, he looked at me.
"Naomi, the social worker will help you document your concerns and discuss your options."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
When he left, I stared at the ceiling.
My entire marriage replayed inside my head.
Marcus insisting I stop working after Grace was born.
Marcus convincing me to let him handle the finances.
Marcus telling me I didn't need to attend company meetings.
Marcus slowly making my world smaller.
At the time, I thought he was protecting me.
Now I wondered whether he had been preparing to control me.
I needed answers.
And I knew where to look.
My sister Renee arrived that afternoon.
She entered the room carrying a small overnight bag.
The moment she saw me, she burst into tears.
"Oh, Naomi."
I reached for her.
She hugged me carefully.
I held on as tightly as my weak arms allowed.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then she pulled back.
"Grace is safe."
I nodded.
"I talked to her."
Renee wiped her eyes.
"She hasn't stopped asking about you."
My throat tightened.
"I miss her."
"She misses you too."
Renee sat beside me.
Then her expression changed.
"Naomi, there's something you need to know."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Marcus came to my house yesterday."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"He wanted Grace's birth certificate."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Renee nodded.
"He said he needed it for insurance paperwork."
I felt sick.
"Did you give it to him?"
"No."
Relief flooded through me.
Renee continued.
"I told him he could get a copy through the proper process."
I looked at her.
"What did he say?"
"He got angry."
My chest tightened.
"How angry?"
"He said I was interfering with family business."
I closed my eyes.
That sounded exactly like Marcus.
Renee took my hand.
"Naomi, I don't trust him."
Tears filled my eyes.
"Neither do I."
She looked startled.
Then I told her everything.
The signed document.
Vanessa.
My bracelets.
The nurse-call button.
Marcus's attempt to move me to another facility.
By the time I finished, Renee was shaking.
"That man is dangerous."
I swallowed.
"I don't know what he's capable of anymore."
Renee looked toward the door.
"We need a lawyer."
I nodded.
"Someone Marcus doesn't know."
"I'll find one."
She paused.
"And Naomi?"
"Yes?"
"You need to protect your accounts."
I stared at her.
"What accounts?"
She frowned.
"Your mother's inheritance."
My chest tightened.
Mom had left me an investment portfolio and the house we lived in.
The house had been transferred into my name before my marriage.
Marcus knew that.
He had always joked that he married a woman who already owned her own home.
But now those jokes felt sinister.
Renee continued.
"Remember what Mom told us?"
I nodded slowly.
"Never let anyone else control what she worked for."
Renee squeezed my hand.
"Exactly."
I stared at the wall.
Marcus had been trying to move me out of the hospital.
Vanessa had taken my jewelry.
Grace had overheard conversations about the house.
Everything pointed toward one frightening possibility.
They wanted my assets.
But I still didn't know how.
That evening, a hospital social worker helped me contact an independent attorney.
Her name was Angela Price.
She agreed to visit the following morning.
Before Renee left, she handed me my phone.
"I found this in your handbag."
I stared at it.
Marcus had told the hospital staff I shouldn't have access to my belongings.
But Renee had brought it anyway.
I turned it on.
Dozens of notifications appeared.
Missed calls.
Messages.
Emails.
Then one message caught my attention.
It was from my bank.
SUBJECT: IMPORTANT ACCOUNT AUTHORIZATION REQUEST.
My heart began pounding.
I opened it.
The email stated that someone had recently submitted a request to change authorized access to one of my investment accounts.
My hands went cold.
The request had been made while I was unconscious.
I clicked the attached notice.
At the bottom was a name.
Marcus Bennett.
And beside it was something even worse.
A second name.
Vanessa Carter.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
My husband and his mistress weren't simply planning to spend my money.
They were trying to gain control of everything my mother had left me.
