Chapter 5 - The Doctor Who Remembered Too Much
Dr. Bernard Lane lived above a private medical office.
No sign.
No receptionist.
No lights downstairs.
Thomas knocked three times.
Nothing.
Alessandro knocked once.
Harder.
The door opened.
An old man looked out.
Seventy.
Thin.
White hair.
His eyes went directly to Alessandro.
Then to Isabella.
He whispered:
“Oh God.”
Alessandro pushed the door open.
“You remember me.”
The doctor stepped back.
“I remember your father.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Dr. Lane looked at Thomas.
“You should not have brought him here.”
Thomas answered:
“I should have nineteen years ago.”
We entered.
The doctor locked the door.
Rosalie stayed near the window.
Henry kept his camera in both hands.
Isabella stood beside Alessandro.
The doctor looked at them together.
“You have her eyes.”
Alessandro’s expression did not change.
“What did you give me?”
Dr. Lane swallowed.
“A sedative.”
“What kind?”
“Midazolam.”
“When I was fourteen?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was told you were having a violent panic episode.”
“Was I?”
The doctor looked away.
“No.”
Alessandro’s voice dropped.
“What happened?”
“You kept asking for your father.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
The doctor continued.
“Victor told me Matteo was dangerous.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
“I saw the bruises on Matteo’s face.”
Alessandro stared.
“My father was there?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before you woke.”
“Why?”
“He came to take you.”
Isabella looked at the doctor.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Victor’s men removed him.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
The doctor went to a cabinet.
He removed a small locked box.
Inside were old patient cards.
One carried Alessandro’s name.
Another carried Matteo Vale’s.
Alessandro froze.
“You treated my father too.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Dr. Lane gave him the card.
Two broken ribs.
Dislocated shoulder.
Concussion.
Date:
The night after Isabella disappeared.
Alessandro stared.
“My father didn’t come back angry.”
“No.”
“He came back beaten.”
“Yes.”
Isabella began crying.
Dr. Lane looked at her.
“He kept saying your name.”
She whispered:
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“And Alessandro’s.”
Silence.
Alessandro read the card again.
“Why did he lie afterward?”
The doctor answered:
“I asked him once.”
“What did he say?”
“That he had one son left in the house and one brother who had proved he could reach him.”
Victor.
Alessandro looked at the floor.
For years, he had hated his father for being cold.
Now that coldness had a shape.
Fear.
Rosalie touched his arm.
He moved away.
Not cruelly.
But enough.
She lowered her hand.
Dr. Lane pulled out another file.
“This is what Victor still pays me for.”
Alessandro opened it.
A series of deposits.
Small.
Regular.
For nineteen years.
“Silence.”
The doctor nodded.
“Silence.”
Henry asked:
“Why keep records?”
Dr. Lane smiled sadly.
“Cowards keep insurance.”
Alessandro looked through the pages.
One recent payment was different.
Ten times larger.
Date:
Six months ago.
Rosalie saw it.
“That was when I found Isabella.”
The doctor looked at her.
“Yes.”
Alessandro turned.
“You knew Rosalie found my mother?”
“I knew Victor knew.”
Rosalie went pale.
“What?”
Dr. Lane nodded.
“He came here the next morning.”
“What did he say?”
“That the old problem had returned.”
Isabella stepped closer.
“He knew where I was?”
“Not exactly.”
“But he knew Rosalie had seen me.”
“Yes.”
Rosalie stared at her father.
“Did you tell him?”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
The doctor answered.
“Victor had Rosalie followed.”
Silence.
Rosalie closed her eyes.
Alessandro looked at her.
“Two months ago, when you met my mother—”
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
She began crying.
“I thought I was keeping Isabella away from danger.”
Alessandro’s voice remained quiet.
“You told her I hated her.”
“I thought if she stayed in Vienna, Victor would stop looking.”
Isabella looked at Rosalie.
“You should have told me that.”
“I was afraid you would come anyway.”
“I did.”
“Yes.”
Alessandro turned back to the doctor.
“What did Victor want six months ago?”
Dr. Lane hesitated.
Then opened a drawer.
He removed a sealed laboratory envelope.
“I refused.”
“To do what?”
“Create a medical history.”
“For whom?”
“You.”
Alessandro stared.
“What kind?”
“Psychiatric instability.”
Rosalie looked shocked.
The doctor continued.
“He wanted documents showing paranoia, aggression, memory problems.”
Thomas whispered:
“To remove him from the companies.”
Dr. Lane nodded.
Alessandro almost smiled.
“So this is not only about nineteen years ago.”
“No.”
“It is happening now.”
“Yes.”
Isabella looked at him.
“Victor is losing control of the Vale companies.”
Alessandro turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because I still follow the accounts.”
She opened her bag.
Another sheet.
Victor had transferred eleven million dollars in the last eight weeks.
To a company named VQ Holdings.
Rosalie stared.
“VQ.”
Thomas went still.
Alessandro noticed.
“What?”
Thomas did not answer.
Rosalie looked at her father.
“What is VQ?”
Thomas whispered:
“Vale-Quinn.”
Silence.
Rosalie stared.
“My name?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Mine.”
Alessandro’s eyes hardened.
“You and Victor own a company together.”
Thomas nodded.
Rosalie stepped away from him.
“For how long?”
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