Chapter 3 - THE DOCTOR WHO TREATED DOMINIC FOR THREE YEARS DISAPPEARED BEFORE SUNRISE
Dominic was waiting when we arrived at the medical apartment.
It was nearly four in the morning.
He stood near the windows wearing black sweatpants and a white T-shirt, no jacket, no armor of expensive tailoring.
For the first time, he looked less like Dominic Cray and more like a man who had not slept.
There was blood near his left eyebrow.
“Are you hurt?”
I asked.
He touched it.
“Someone thought a chair would improve my hearing.”
Marcus stared.
“Chair bad.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Very.”
Marco closed the door behind us.
Two additional guards checked the windows.
A third searched the hallway.
I held Marcus close.
“This is insane.”
Dominic nodded.
“Yes.”
“You say that like it helps.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Who attacked the hotel?”
“One of the men is a private security contractor.”
“Working for Victor?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Who attacked you?”
“Another contractor.”
“Same company.”
My stomach tightened.
Dominic continued.
“Victor used that company for mansion overflow security.”
“So Victor—”
“Grace.”
He lifted one hand.
“Facts.”
I stopped.
That irritated me.
Then I realized he was right.
Marcus wriggled out of my arms.
He walked toward Dominic.
“Can you hear dinosaur?”
Dominic frowned.
“What?”
Marcus squeezed the red toy.
It squeaked.
Dominic winced violently.
Marcus looked delighted.
“You hear!”
Dominic covered his right ear.
“Unfortunately.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Dominic looked at me.
For a second, the room felt normal.
Then Marco entered.
“Dr. Vale is gone.”
Dominic became still.
“Gone where?”
“His townhouse is empty.”
“Clinic?”
“Closed.”
“Phone?”
“Off.”
“When?”
“Security camera shows him leaving at 12:42.”
Dominic looked at the clock.
Less than an hour after the black object had been removed.
“How did he know?”
Marco had no answer.
Dominic turned toward me.
“Victor was in the conservatory.”
My stomach dropped.
“Victor called him.”
“Possibly.”
“Can you check?”
“Victor’s phones are being imaged.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“His office?”
“Sealed.”
That surprised me.
“You can just seal his office?”
Dominic looked at me.
“It is my house.”
“Right.”
“Sometimes I forget your normal life standards.”
“Please keep them nearby.”
Marcus had climbed onto a chair.
He held his dinosaur to Dominic’s left ear.
Squeak.
Dominic did not react.
Marcus tried again.
Nothing.
His smile disappeared.
“This one sleeping.”
Dominic looked at me.
Then at Marcus.
“Yes.”
“Maybe doctor wake it.”
The room went quiet.
Dominic’s expression softened.
“Maybe.”
At six thirty, Dr. Samuel Kessler returned with Dr. Amelia Chen, an otologist who had spent twenty years treating traumatic hearing injuries.
She did not behave like Dominic’s reputation impressed her.
I liked her immediately.
“Sit.”
she told him.
Dominic sat.
“No interruptions.”
He looked at Marco.
“No interruptions.”
She examined the right ear carefully.
Dominic flinched repeatedly.
Dr. Chen frowned.
Then examined the left.
She ordered imaging.
Blood work.
Old records.
Medication lists.
After two hours, she sat across from Dominic.
“I am going to separate what I know from what I suspect.”
Dominic leaned back.
“Good.”
“Your original warehouse blast could absolutely have caused significant auditory trauma.”
He nodded.
“The first hospital notes support concussion, middle-ear injury, and temporary sensorineural loss.”
“Temporary?”
I asked before stopping myself.
Dr. Chen looked at me.
“The early notes specifically describe uncertain prognosis.”
Dominic stared.
“I was told permanent.”
“When?”
“Two weeks after the blast.”
“By whom?”
“Adrian Vale.”
Dr. Chen made a note.
“Your later deterioration does not match a straightforward recovery pattern.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“What does it match?”
“I am not giving you a diagnosis from old paperwork.”
She pointed toward his right ear.
“But the canal shows evidence of repeated irritation.”
“Possibly chemical.”
“Possibly mechanical.”
“The object removed last night was embedded in scarred tissue.”
“It did not simply fall in.”
Marcus proudly announced:
“I pulled bug.”
Dr. Chen stared at him.
Then at me.
“He did?”
“Before I could stop him.”
“That was extremely unsafe.”
“I know.”
Marcus frowned.
“I helped.”
Dr. Chen softened.
“You did.”
Then she looked at me.
“Never again.”
“Absolutely.”
Dominic asked:
“Could that device have made me deaf?”
“Not by itself.”
“Could it worsen hearing?”
“Yes.”
“Could repeated inflammation worsen recovery?”
“Yes.”
“Could medication?”
“Depends what medication.”
Dominic looked at Marco.
“My monthly drops.”
Marco already had them.
Dr. Chen examined the bottle.
“No original packaging?”
“Vale carried them.”
Every month.
Three years.
Same ritual.
Vale entered the mansion.
Examined Dominic.
Applied medication.
Replaced the small protective insert.
Warned everyone never to touch Dominic’s right ear.
I watched Dominic understand the pattern.
He had followed the rule because pain had taught him the cost of disobedience.
Maybe the pain itself had been part of the control.
Dr. Chen sent the medication to a laboratory.
Then asked:
“Who else examined you?”
“Vale coordinated specialists.”
“Names?”
Dominic gave several.
Marco checked.
Two had retired.
One was dead.
Another remembered Dominic but said Vale always supplied his previous imaging and insisted no invasive examination was necessary because of “fragile tissue.”
Dr. Chen’s expression darkened.
“You need all raw images.”
Dominic smiled without humor.
“They are missing.”
“What?”
“The hospital archive contains summaries.”
“Not full scans.”
Dr. Chen removed her glasses.
That worried me.
“Medical records do not accidentally disappear in neat chronological blocks.”
Dominic turned toward the window.
His right hearing device amplified enough sound that he reacted when a taxi horn blared far below.
He closed his eyes.
“I accepted it.”
Nobody spoke.
“I accepted every appointment.”
“Every limitation.”
“Every warning.”
“Every person telling me what I could no longer do.”
His voice became quieter.
“I built the entire mansion around silence.”
Dr. Chen leaned forward.
“Being deceived by a physician is not a failure of intelligence.”
Dominic smiled bitterly.
“You’ve never worked for me.”
“That may be why I can tell you that.”
He almost laughed.
Then the laboratory called.
Dr. Chen answered.
Listened.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Dominic asked.
She ended the call.
“The drops contain a steroid.”
“Reasonable for inflammation.”
“And?”
“A local anesthetic.”
“That can also have legitimate use.”
She hesitated.
“And a compound not listed in any of the prescription records.”
Dominic’s face went still.
“What does it do?”
“In repeated exposure at certain concentrations, it can irritate delicate tissue.”
“Potentially delay healing.”
“Potentially damage.”
Silence.
Marco swore.
Dr. Chen added:
“I am not saying Vale intentionally deafened you.”
Dominic looked at her.
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying the treatment requires a criminal and medical investigation.”
Marcus had become bored.
He was stacking sugar packets on the coffee table.
I watched him.
Three years old.
One small hand.
One impossible observation.
And now a doctor had used the word criminal.
Dominic looked at Marco.
“Bring Victor.”
Marco hesitated.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Victor left the estate.”
The room froze.
“When?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“You sealed his office.”
“He used the service tunnel from the wine cellar.”
Dominic’s face changed.
I had never seen fear become anger so smoothly.
“You have a tunnel?”
I asked.
Nobody looked at me.
Wrong moment.
Marco continued.
“He took no luggage.”
“His car is still there.”
“He knew the tunnel.”
Dominic whispered.
“He designed the security renovation.”
Of course.
The man who controlled every entrance had kept one for himself.
Dominic stood.
Dr. Chen grabbed his arm.
“Sit down.”
He looked at her hand.
Everyone froze.
Dr. Chen did not remove it.
“You are under treatment.”
“You do not get to become medically stupid because somebody betrayed you.”
Marcus giggled.
“Medically stupid.”
Dominic stared at her.
Then sat.
I nearly smiled.
Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
Dominic demanded.
Marco looked at me first.
That frightened me instantly.
“What?”
I repeated.
Marco said:
“Victor accessed the staff database thirty minutes before he disappeared.”
My arms tightened around Marcus.
“What did he open?”
“My file?”
“Yes.”
“Address?”
“Yes.”
“Daycare?”
Marco’s silence answered.
Dominic’s face went cold.
I stood.
“We leave New York.”
“No.”
I stared.
“You do not get to say no.”
Dominic corrected immediately.
“You’re right.”
That surprised me.
Then:
“But leaving openly could expose you.”
“What do you suggest?”
“A safe property.”
“No records connecting it to the Cray household.”
“Who knows?”
“Me.”
“Marco.”
“And one attorney.”
I looked at Marcus.
My job had brought him into this.
My desperation.
My bad decision.
I hated myself for it.
Dominic seemed to understand my face.
“Grace.”
I looked up.
“This is not because you brought him to work.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
“If he hadn’t been there—”
“I would still be deaf.”
He said it quietly.
“Victor would still be standing beside me.”
“Vale would still be touching my ear every month.”
He looked at Marcus.
“Your mistake did not create their choices.”
My throat tightened.
Then Marco’s phone rang again.
He answered.
This time he immediately switched to speaker.
A security dispatcher spoke.
“We found Victor’s escape vehicle.”
Dominic stood despite Dr. Chen’s glare.
“Where?”
“Queens.”
“Abandoned near Roosevelt Avenue.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“But there’s blood in the driver’s seat.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“His?”
“Unknown.”
Then:
“And Boss?”
“Yes?”
“We found something else.”
“What?”
“A photograph taped to the steering wheel.”
Marco opened the image on his phone.
He went pale.
Dominic took it.
Then looked at me.
I knew before I saw it.
My stomach dropped.
The photograph showed Marcus leaving daycare two weeks earlier.
Holding my hand.
Taken from across the street.
Written beneath it in black marker:
CHILDREN NOTICE TOO MUCH.
Dominic looked at my son.
Then at me.
And the man who had spent three years trapped in silence spoke with terrifying clarity.
May you like
“Nobody touches that boy.”
---
Related Stories
