Chapter 3 - The Cold Diagnosis
The private room on the eighth floor of St. Jude’s Hospital was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of monitors and the amber streetlights outside the window.
Catherine lay in the high-tech bed, an IV line attached to her arm, sleeping peacefully for the first time in three years. The oxygen tube beneath her nose delivered steady, clean air, easing the violent cough that had plagued her for months.
In the corner of the room, Annie lay curled up on a wide velvet sofa, fast asleep under a heavy down blanket, her small hand holding a plush teddy bear Victor had ordered from the hospital gift shop.
The door opened silently. Dr. Harrison, a silver-haired specialist and Victor's long-time personal physician, stepped into the room holding a black digital tablet.
Victor, who sat in an armchair beside Catherine's bed holding her thin hand, immediately stood up.
"How is she, Arthur?" Victor asked in a quiet whisper.
Dr. Harrison gestured toward the hallway. Victor stepped outside, gently pulling the heavy door closed behind him.
"Physically, she is severely malnourished and suffering from advanced, untreated chronic bronchitis," Dr. Harrison said, his tone grave. "If she had gone another month without treatment in those damp conditions, it would have developed into double pneumonia. Her lungs are compromised, Victor."
Victor pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Can she recover?"
"With proper care, rest, high-grade antibiotics, and specialized nutrition? Yes," Dr. Harrison affirmed. "She’s young. But the emotional trauma... Victor, her medical history from the last three years shows she visited public clinics under a fake name twice. She was suffering from severe physical exhaustion."
Dr. Harrison paused, looking at his old friend with deep sympathy. "There's something else. We ran a routine blood panel as part of her intake."
Victor’s eyes sharpened. "What is it?"
"We found low levels of heavy metal toxicity in her system," Dr. Harrison said, lowering his voice even further. "Specifically, trace amounts of thallium. It’s an odorless, tasteless chemical compound historically found in certain restricted rodent poisons."
Victor’s blood ran completely cold. The quiet hospital hallway seemed to tilt around him. "Thallium?"
"The levels aren't high enough to be instantly fatal, thank God," Dr. Harrison explained. "It was administered in very small, prolonged doses over time. It causes severe fatigue, hair thinning, high fevers, and neurological weakness. It mimics the symptoms of a severe auto-immune illness."
Victor remembered. Three years ago, right before Catherine supposedly left, she had suddenly fallen ill with an unexplainable fever and muscle weakness. The family doctor at the time—a man personally selected by Maris—had diagnosed her with an untreatable degenerative fatigue syndrome.
"My mother..." Victor breathed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the aluminum handrail on the wall. "She was poisoning her."
"I cannot make official legal accusations without a forensic investigation," Dr. Harrison stated carefully. "But given the history you described tonight, I strongly recommend a full police report. If Catherine had stayed in that house another six months, she wouldn't have walked out. She would have left in an ambulance."
Victor didn't speak. The sheer scale of the evil he had lived alongside overwhelmed his senses. His mother hadn't just separated them; she had systematically attempted to destroy Catherine's body so she would be forced to leave, or worse, die quietly in a hospital room far away from the Williams fortune.
"Keep two security guards outside this door twenty-four hours a day, Arthur," Victor said, his voice flat and terrifyingly calm. "Nobody enters this room except you and the assigned nurses. Not even family."
"Understood," Dr. Harrison said.
May you like
Victor turned back toward the room, opened the door softly, and walked back to Catherine's bedside. He sat down and took her hand again, pressing her pale knuckles against his forehead.
"I will tear her world apart," Victor whispered into the dark room, his tears falling onto the crisp white bedsheets. "Piece by piece. I swear it to you, Catherine."
