Chapter 7 - THE MEDICAL REPORT THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
The board's letter caused an immediate legal dispute.
Dante's attorney, Beatriz Costa, arrived at the mansion that afternoon.
She was a precise woman in her forties who wore dark suits and had absolutely no patience for Rafael Montenegro.
She reviewed the documents.
Then looked toward Dante.
"Did you authorize this medical summary?"
"No."
"Did you request that it be sent to the board?"
"No."
Beatriz's expression hardened.
"Then we need to determine how it was obtained."
I remained nearby only for the clinical questions Dante authorized me to answer.
The summary contained outdated information.
It described him as refusing all rehabilitation.
It suggested his condition had not been reassessed.
And it included conclusions about his ability to make business decisions that weren't supported by a proper capacity evaluation.
I frowned.
"Physical disability doesn't by itself determine someone's ability to manage a company."
Beatriz nodded.
"Exactly."
Dante looked toward me.
For a moment, he seemed relieved.
Then his expression darkened.
"Rafael wants me removed."
Beatriz remained calm.
"That may be his objective. But let's establish the facts."
The legal team requested the source of the report and an independent review of the corporate governance process.
At the same time, Dr. Duarte examined the medication discrepancies.
The clinical investigation identified several instances in which administration entries didn't correspond to the authorized regimen.
Some errors appeared to involve incomplete documentation.
Others remained unexplained.
The matter was referred to appropriate oversight personnel.
There was no justification for accusing a specific individual without evidence.
But the pattern was troubling.
Dante listened to the findings.
Then looked at me.
"Was someone trying to keep me sedated?"
I took a breath.
"We don't know intent. We know the records require investigation and the medication process needed correction."
He closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then whispered, "I trusted Rafael."
I looked down.
He continued.
"I let him control everything after the accident."
His voice broke.
"My businesses. My schedule. My visitors."
He looked toward the window.
"And I told myself I was doing it because I couldn't walk."
I sat opposite him.
"Dante, needing assistance after an injury doesn't mean you're incapable of making decisions."
His eyes filled.
"But I let him."
I shook my head.
"You were recovering from a serious injury. You had reasons to rely on people you trusted."
He swallowed.
"That doesn't make me foolish?"
"No."
He looked at me.
Then asked, "What do I do now?"
I considered the question.
"Work with your attorney. Keep participating in your care. And make decisions based on verified information."
He smiled faintly.
"You're annoyingly reasonable."
I laughed.
"Thank you."
He leaned back.
Then his expression softened.
"Marina."
"Yes?"
"I've been thinking about what you said."
"Which part?"
"That I deserve a life worth living whether I walk or not."
I nodded.
He looked toward his hands.
"I don't know if I believe it yet."
My chest tightened.
"That's okay."
He looked up.
"But I want to."
I smiled.
"That's a meaningful place to begin."
Later that night, Augusto entered the library carrying an envelope.
He looked troubled.
"Dante."
His employer turned.
"What is it?"
The old man placed the envelope on the desk.
It contained a photograph from the night of the accident.
Dante's armored SUV stood outside the mountain resort.
Beside it was a man wearing a mechanic's uniform.
The image was grainy.
But the face was visible.
Dante stared.
"Who is he?"
Augusto swallowed.
"His name is Leandro Farias."
Dante frowned.
"And?"
Augusto's voice trembled.
"He worked for a company controlled by Rafael."
May you like
The room went silent.
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