Chapter 3 - THE COMPETENCY TESTDr. Samuel Pierce smiled at me as if we were old friends.
We weren’t.
I knew him by reputation.
Everyone in Chicago corporate law did.
Pierce was polished, expensive, discreet, and frequently hired when powerful families needed a medical opinion convenient enough to survive a courtroom challenge.
Julian guided him into the sitting room.
“Victoria gets anxious around strangers now,” Julian explained.
I almost admired the performance.
Almost.
Dr. Pierce opened a leather portfolio.
“Mrs. Sterling, I’m only going to ask a few questions.”
I tucked my legs beneath a blanket and gave him the frightened eyes of a woman who barely recognized her own home.
“Will it hurt?”
His expression softened.
“No.”
Julian sat nearby.
Too nearby.
Watching.
The examination began simply.
“What is your full name?”
I hesitated.
“Victoria.”
“Last name?”
I looked at Julian.
He supplied it helpfully.
“Sterling.”
I repeated it.
“Sterling.”
Pierce made a note.
“What year is it?”
I intentionally missed by two years.
“What city are we in?”
“Chicago?”
I said it like a guess.
“Do you know who the president is?”
I shook my head.
Then came memory tasks.
Three objects.
Apple.
Chair.
Penny.
Five minutes later, I remembered only “chair.”
Julian’s shoulders visibly loosened.
Good.
Let him think he was winning.
But Pierce wasn’t stupid.
He changed tactics.
“Mrs. Sterling, do you understand what Sterling Enterprises is?”
I frowned.
“A company?”
“Yes.”
“Your company,” Julian added.
Pierce looked sharply at him.
“Mr. Sterling, please let her answer.”
Julian smiled.
“Of course.”
Pierce turned back to me.
“What does the company do?”
I blinked.
“Make money?”
A tiny smile tugged at Pierce’s mouth.
Then he asked:
“If someone handed you a legal agreement today, would you understand the consequences of signing it?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Julian could barely hide his satisfaction.
I wanted him satisfied.
I wanted him so certain of my weakness that he became careless.
After forty-five minutes, Pierce closed his portfolio.
“I’ll prepare a preliminary assessment.”
“Today?” Julian asked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Julian followed him toward the foyer.
I remained seated.
Ten minutes later, Rosa entered.
“He’s gone.”
I stood instantly.
“What did Julian say?”
“I couldn’t hear everything. But he asked the doctor whether Friday was possible.”
There it was again.
Friday.
A deadline.
That night, Julian opened champagne at dinner.
I stared at the glass.
“You said the doctors told me not to drink.”
His smile froze.
Then returned.
“Of course. I forgot.”
You forgot.
Interesting.
He poured the glass for himself instead.
Halfway through dinner, I asked:
“Did we have children?”
Julian stopped chewing.
“No.”
“Did I want them?”
Chloe, seated across the table, looked down.
Julian’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly.
“We decided our careers were enough.”
That was another lie.
Two years earlier, I had wanted a child desperately.
Julian had insisted the timing wasn’t right.
He said we should wait until after Sterling’s European expansion.
Then another year passed.
And another.
Suddenly, I wondered how many pieces of our marriage I had misunderstood.
After dinner, I pretended exhaustion.
At eleven thirty, Julian fell asleep.
At midnight, Rosa tapped twice on the bedroom wall from the service hallway.
Our signal.
I slipped out.
Barefoot.
Silent.
Rosa led me downstairs through the old servants’ corridor, avoiding modern security cameras.
My father had designed the house renovation decades ago.
Julian had never bothered learning its hidden passages.
The library door stood locked.
I inserted the brass key.
It opened.
Inside, darkness swallowed us.
Rosa stayed at the door while I entered.
My father’s library smelled exactly as it had when I was a child—cedar, old books, leather, faint tobacco embedded forever in the curtains.
I crossed to the portrait of my grandfather.
Behind it sat the private archive.
The brass key fit.
Inside were rows of documents.
Trust agreements.
Original incorporation records.
Share certificates.
Family estate papers.
One folder was missing.
I knew immediately which one.
The Sterling Voting Trust.
The document controlling my family’s voting shares.
A photocopy sat in its place.
I opened it.
My signature appeared on the final page.
Perfect.
Except I had never signed it.
The date was two days after my accident.
Julian was forging my signature.
Rosa gasped.
“Oh my God.”
I photographed every page.
Then I found something else.
A thin envelope marked with my father’s handwriting:
VICTORIA — ONLY IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME
My father had died five years earlier.
Natural causes, according to everyone.
I had never seen this envelope.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
Victoria,
If you are reading this, someone has accessed the archive against my instructions.
There is something I never told you.
Sterling Enterprises was nearly destroyed twenty years ago by a partner named Richard Blackwell. He tried to strip the company through fraudulent debt and offshore entities. I removed him, but I never believed he forgave us.
If Blackwell or his family ever attempts to acquire Sterling shares, do not sell.
Trust no offer involving Blackwell Global.
I stopped breathing.
Blackwell Global.
The buyer Julian planned to sell our defense logistics division to on Friday.
My father had warned me years before the transaction even existed.
I continued reading.
There was one final paragraph.
Richard Blackwell had help from inside Sterling.
I never proved who.
But I believed the leak came through our legal department.
Arthur knew the investigation existed, but not the suspect’s identity.
My private notes are stored separately.
The letter ended.
I searched the archive.
No private notes.
Someone had already taken them.
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Rosa’s eyes widened.
“Someone’s coming.”
We closed the archive.
I slipped behind the heavy curtains.
Rosa grabbed a feather duster and pretended to clean.
The door opened.
Chloe entered.
At twelve thirty in the morning.
She carried a flashlight.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Rosa lifted the duster.
“Cleaning.”
“Now?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Chloe didn’t believe her.
She walked farther into the library.
Behind the curtain, I barely breathed.
Then Chloe approached my father’s portrait.
She reached behind it.
The archive opened.
She knew.
She knew exactly where it was.
Chloe pulled out the copy of the voting trust.
She examined it.
Then whispered:
“Where is it?”
Rosa stiffened.
“What are you looking for?”
Chloe spun.
“Nothing.”
She shut the archive.
Then she took out her phone and called someone.
“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.
I recognized the voice that answered.
Julian.
“What?”
“The archive’s been disturbed.”
My blood froze.
“How?”
“I don’t know. The trust copy isn’t positioned the way I left it.”
Julian swore.
Then:
“Check Victoria.”
“I saw her asleep twenty minutes ago.”
“Check again.”
Chloe ended the call.
She hurried out.
Rosa looked toward the curtains.
“Go,” she whispered.
I slipped through the servants’ passage and raced upstairs.
I reached the bedroom less than thirty seconds before footsteps approached.
I dove beneath the blanket.
Closed my eyes.
The door opened.
Chloe stepped inside.
I kept my breathing slow.
She approached.
Closer.
Closer.
Then she leaned over me.
I could smell her perfume.
For several seconds, she simply watched.
Finally she whispered:
“You’re smarter than he thinks.”
My eyes nearly opened.
Then Chloe straightened and left.
I didn’t move for five full minutes.
Did she know?
Was that comment suspicion?
Or confirmation?
The following morning, Dr. Pierce returned.
Julian invited him into the breakfast room.
Pierce looked uncomfortable.
That surprised me.
He sat across from me.
“Mrs. Sterling, based on yesterday’s assessment, you are experiencing significant memory impairment.”
Julian smiled faintly.
“However,” Pierce continued, “memory impairment alone does not necessarily eliminate legal competency.”
Julian’s smile vanished.
Pierce folded his hands.
“She understands basic consequences. She can express preferences. I am not comfortable declaring her incapable based on one examination.”
Julian’s voice hardened.
“She couldn’t remember her own last name.”
“That does not automatically remove legal capacity.”
“What would?”
“Evidence of severe cognitive dysfunction affecting decision-making.”
Julian glanced at Chloe.
The glance lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
And suddenly I understood why they wanted me taking those sedatives.
They didn’t only want me confused.
They wanted me confused in front of Dr. Pierce.
They wanted a diagnosis.
Julian leaned back.
“What if her condition deteriorates?”
“Then I would reassess.”
After Pierce left, Julian barely spoke.
At noon, Chloe brought me tea again.
I accepted it.
She smiled.
Then left.
I carried the cup upstairs.
Rosa watched me pour it into the bathroom sink.
Thirty minutes later, I lay on the floor beside the bed.
When Chloe entered and saw me, she screamed.
Julian came running.
I let my eyes roll weakly.
Pretended disorientation.
“My head…”
Julian dropped beside me.
“Call Dr. Pierce!”
Chloe looked at the empty cup.
Then at me.
Something cold moved through her face.
An hour later, Pierce examined me again.
I deliberately answered every question worse than before.
Julian stood behind him.
Silent.
Hopeful.
Pierce frowned.
“This is a significant decline.”
Julian touched his shoulder.
“Can you document it?”
“I need hospital imaging.”
“We can arrange anything.”
That afternoon, Julian left to speak with lawyers.
Chloe remained.
She entered my room alone.
Closed the door.
Then locked it.
I looked at her.
She walked toward me.
No smile now.
No sympathetic eyes.
She stopped beside the bed.
“You can drop the act.”
I stared blankly.
“What act?”
“You remember.”
Silence.
Then Chloe leaned closer.
“I don’t know how much you remember, but I know you’re lying.”
I kept my face empty.
She smiled without warmth.
“You were always good at pretending you trusted people.”
My heart beat faster.
Then she said something I never expected.
“But if you want to stay alive until Friday, keep pretending.”
I stared at her.
For the first time since the crash, my mask cracked.
Only slightly.
Chloe saw it.
Her smile disappeared.
And in a whisper so quiet I barely heard her, she said:
“Julian thinks I cut your brakes.”
My throat tightened.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Chloe looked toward the locked door.
When she answered, her voice shook.
“Someone who has been inside your family for much longer than I have.”
Before I could ask another question, footsteps approached.
Chloe immediately stepped back.
Her expression transformed.
She unlocked the door just as Julian entered.
“Everything okay?”
Chloe smiled.
“Perfect.”
Julian kissed my forehead.
Then he looked at Chloe.
“The board meeting has been moved.”
“To when?”
“Tomorrow night.”
My pulse jumped.
Julian turned toward me.
“And tomorrow, darling, you’re coming with us.”
I widened my eyes.
“To where?”
He smiled.
“To Sterling Enterprises.”
May you like
Then he said the words that made everything clear.
“The board wants to see for themselves whether you’re still capable of running your company.”
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