Dr.

Mercer arrived at the house that afternoon.

He hadn't been called to the house in four months.

Rocco had been told the home visits were discontinued because his condition had stabilized enough for clinic appointments.

He had believed it.

He had believed most of what he'd been told.

That was the part that sat in his chest now like a stone.

Lucia had positioned herself in the front sitting room when the doctor arrived, composed and dressed as though she had been expecting company.

Grant stood near the fireplace.

Edwin had not come back downstairs.

"Dr.

Mercer." Lucia extended her hand.

"I'm glad you could come.

I think there's been some confusion today that we should clear up together."

The doctor shook her hand briefly and looked past her toward Rocco, who was seated in the main room with June standing nearby.

"Rocco." He crossed the room and crouched slightly to meet his patient's eye level.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Clearer than I have in months," Rocco said.

Dr.

Mercer glanced at the medication bottle June had placed on the side table.

He picked it up, read the label, checked the fill date, and said nothing for a moment.

"This was filled on the fourteenth," he said.

"Yes," June said.

"I found it this morning under the medication cabinet.

It had been there since at least yesterday evening.

Possibly longer."

"That's not accurate," Lucia said from the doorway.

"June misplaced it herself during the morning routine and is now—"

"Lucia." Dr.

Mercer's voice was even.

"I'd like to speak with Rocco and his caretaker privately, please."

"I am his family.

I have every right to—"

"You are his daughter-in-law," Rocco said.

"Not his doctor.

Not his guardian.

His daughter-in-law." He looked at her steadily.

"Leave the room."

The silence stretched.

Grant pushed off the fireplace.

"You can't seriously be—"

"Grant." Rocco didn't raise his voice.

"Take her with you."

They left.

The door didn't quite close behind them.

Dr.

Mercer sat down across from Rocco and opened his bag.

"Tell me everything.

From the beginning."

Rocco told him.

June filled in what she had witnessed in the three weeks since her arrival.

The doctor listened without interrupting, making notes in a small leather book he kept in his breast pocket.

When they finished, he sat back.

"The dosage records submitted to my office show consistent administration," he said carefully.

"Every day.

Correct timing.

Correct amounts."

"And the bottle?" Rocco said.

"The bottle tells a different story." He set his pen down.

"Rocco, I want to ask you something directly.

In the last two months, have you at any point refused your medication?

Pushed it away, asked for it to be delayed, anything like that?"

"I've been told I did," Rocco said.

"I don't remember it."

"That's consistent with what I'd expect if the medication wasn't being given at all," the doctor said.

"Increased spasm frequency, disorientation, gaps in memory.

These aren't signs of progression.

They're signs of withdrawal from a medication you should have been receiving every day."

June's hand tightened on the back of the chair.

"Someone has been filing false records with your office," she said.

"That appears to be the case." Dr.

Mercer looked at Rocco.

"I have to ask you — do you want to pursue this formally?

Because if you do, I will support you.

Fully.

But you need to understand what that means.

It means an investigation.

It means this becomes official."

Rocco was quiet for a moment.

From the hallway, faintly, he could hear Lucia's voice.

Still on the phone.

Still moving fast.

"How long would I need," he said, "before the medication starts working again?

If I begin the correct protocol today?"

"Four to six weeks before you'd feel the full difference," Dr.

Mercer said.

"But you'd notice improvement within two."

Rocco nodded slowly.

"Then yes," he said.

"I want to pursue it formally." He looked toward the closed door.

"But I want to do it correctly.

I don't want her to know what's coming until it's already arrived."

Dr.

Mercer closed his notebook.

"I know someone," he said quietly.

"An attorney.

He handles exactly this kind of situation." He paused.

"He's very good at making sure people don't see things coming."

Outside the door, the sound of Lucia's voice had stopped.

The silence that replaced it was somehow worse.