"Did David bring the document in himself?" I asked, planting my hands flat on the polished marble counter.
"His attorney couriered it over," Chloe said defensively, her eyes darting to the side. "It’s a fully notarized transfer of medical authority. Signed by you. It explicitly revoked your access to his records. Mr. Sterling included a formal letter stating that you were erratic and a potential flight risk."
"Pull the document up on your screen, Chloe. Don't open his medical history. Just open the legal transfer."
"I really have to ask you to leave," she whispered, her hand hovering over the desk phone. "Dr. Thorne will call security."
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't make a sudden movement. I slowly pulled my phone from my pocket, opened the photo gallery, and slid the device across the marble counter. It stopped inches from her keyboard.
The high-resolution photo of Arthur Vance’s ledger filled the screen.
"That is the notary book belonging to the man who stamped the document David sent you," I said quietly. "Look at the date. Look at the signature. It’s a forgery, Chloe. A clumsy, rushed forgery. David paid him two thousand dollars cash to fake my consent because he couldn't get it legally."
Chloe leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied the screen. She knew my handwriting. She had watched me sign Leo in and out of that clinic dozens of times over the years. The color began to drain from her face as the reality of the image registered.
"That’s not your signature," she breathed, her professional veneer cracking.
"No, it’s not. David committed a felony to lock me out of this system," I said, leaning closer to the glass partition. "I am not asking you to break the law, Chloe. I am telling you that you are currently enforcing a fraudulent document that was designed to endanger my son. Now, I need to know why David needed total medical authority yesterday."
She looked at the phone, then at the hallway, her breathing shallow. The ethical walls of the clinic were colliding with her own common sense.
"If I show you what else came in that courier package," she whispered, her voice trembling, "I will lose my job. If Mr. Sterling finds out I bypassed the proxy, he will sue the clinic and he will ruin me personally."
This was the choice. The absolute, heavy cost of pushing forward. If I forced her hand, I was making an innocent woman a target for a billionaire's legal team. I was burning a bridge that could never be rebuilt. But if I walked away to protect her job, whatever trap David had set for Leo would snap shut.
"I will take the blame," I said, my voice hardening into stone. "I will tell the medical board I reached over this counter and bypassed your terminal while you were distracted. I will tell them I intimidated you. You can call the police the second I walk out those doors and report me for trespassing. But right now, you are going to look at that screen and tell me what my son is facing."
Chloe stared at me for a long, agonizing second. Then, her hand shaking, she clicked her mouse. The screen angled slightly away from me flashed white, then populated with text.
"It wasn't just a transfer of proxy," she said, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper as she read the attached file. "It was an expedited medical clearance form."
"Clearance for what?" I demanded, the chill returning to my spine.
"A private transport," she said, looking up at me with wide, frightened eyes. "Mr. Sterling requested Dr. Thorne sign off on a heavy, sustained dosage of Lorazepam for travel anxiety. He authorized a private medical transport team to move Leo out of state."
The floor seemed to drop out from under me. "Where, Chloe? Where is he taking him?"
She scrolled down, her breath hitching. "An inpatient behavioral facility. The Silver Pines Institute, in upstate New York. It’s a locked-down residential program."
A behavioral lockup. That was the play. David wasn't just trying to win a custody battle; he was going to disappear Leo behind the walls of a private, high-security psychiatric facility where a biological parent with a "violent" history would never be granted visitation. Once Leo was admitted under David's sole medical proxy, the gates would close, and I would never see him again. The Lorazepam was to keep him compliant, to ensure he didn't fight back or scream when the transport team arrived at the mansion.
"When?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears.