Chapter 12 - The Doctor Who Never Saw Me
The physician named on the letter practiced in a small clinic north of Denver.
His name was Dr. Victor Bell.
Evelyn contacted the clinic through a lawful records inquiry rather than encouraging me to confront him.
Dr. Bell's attorney responded that he had not examined me and had not written a capacity assessment.
That answer didn't resolve everything.
It opened another question.
Who had created the letter bearing his name?
Noah traced the distribution request to the same period Ryan had become unusually attentive about my medical appointments.
I remembered him offering to drive me to a prenatal visit on December 29.
I had declined because I was presenting to a client that morning.
He'd looked disappointed in a way I'd once interpreted as affection.
Now I wondered if he'd expected to obtain paperwork.
Mara reminded me that memory was useful but records had to establish facts.
I began writing down dates without changing them to match theories.
The discipline helped.
The deeper the investigation went, the more determined I became not to behave like Ryan.
He bent reality until it served him.
I wanted the truth even when it moved more slowly than my anger.
Midway through the week, the court granted interim protections addressing contact and safety while the case proceeded.
The orders did not decide every allegation or permanently settle the marriage.
But they gave me breathing room.
Ryan was no longer permitted to use messages and surprise visits as a way to wear me down.
He responded by sending a statement through counsel claiming he was being unjustly separated from his child.
I read it once and set it aside.
A child who was still growing inside me deserved safety, not a public-relations war.
At my next prenatal appointment, I heard the heartbeat again.
I cried this time.
Dr. Park handed me a tissue.
“I thought I would feel better once the numbers looked good,” I said.
“Sometimes the body needs time to catch up with what the mind knows.”
I held onto that thought through a difficult night.
Then at 6:13 a.m., Evelyn called.
“The clinic preserved a fax confirmation tied to that doctor's letter.”
“Who sent it?”
“The header identifies a number used by Front Range Renewal.”
“Diane's company.”
“Yes.”
“Does that prove she made it?”
“No, but it provides a source to investigate.”
I appreciated the careful answer, even as I felt sick.
Diane had sat at my table watching her husband hurt me.
She had then written to me about family unity.
Now her company was linked to a document falsely suggesting I couldn't manage my own life.
Before I could speak, Evelyn continued.
“And Claire, the proposed distribution wasn't four hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
“What was it?”
May you like
“The instruction sought to liquidate almost everything remaining in your personal investment account.”
