Chapter 10 - THE DOCTOR WHO CONTROLLED THE PAIN
Julian Mercer had built his career on trust.
He was charming.
Respected.
Generous to charities.
He treated wealthy patients and attended prestigious medical conferences.
But beneath the polished reputation lay a network of fraudulent research contracts.
Samuel Whitcomb had discovered irregularities in a materials-testing program.
Anthony Russo had discovered suspicious shipments moving through West Harbor.
Celeste had discovered that her cousin was using her financial accounts.
Each had threatened the operation.
Mercer responded by isolating them.
Samuel was confined under a false identity.
Anthony survived the explosion but was kept from his family.
Celeste was pressured into silence.
And Dominic became a long-term subject of unauthorized exposure.
The copper-threaded collar was only one component.
Fabric treatments and repeated use of altered garments had been part of the scheme.
Mercer had also manipulated medical records to conceal the pattern.
But the independent specialists cautioned that Dominic's headaches required full evaluation.
The records demonstrated intent and exposure.
They did not prove that every headache had a single cause.
Dominic listened to the findings in silence.
Then asked:
“Why me?”
Claire Bennett looked at him.
“Because you controlled the shipping routes.”
He stared.
Mercer needed access to the harbor.
He needed Dominic distracted.
Dependent.
And willing to trust his doctor.
The headaches had become a leash.
Dominic looked away.
For ten years, he'd believed he was weak.
That he was failing.
That his body had betrayed him.
Now he understood someone had exploited his suffering.
Beatrice sat beside him.
She reached for his hand.
He looked at her.
For a moment, he seemed surprised.
Then he held it.
Claire continued.
“We have enough evidence to seek warrants and begin formal proceedings.”
Dominic nodded.
“Good.”
She studied him.
“I need you to understand something.”
He looked up.
“You cannot handle Mercer yourself.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
Claire continued.
“If you threaten him, you could compromise the investigation.”
Silence.
For years, Dominic had solved problems through fear.
He knew how to make men talk.
How to make them disappear.
How to end conflicts violently.
But Beatrice's hand remained in his.
He looked at her.
She said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Dominic turned back to Claire.
“Then do it properly.”
Claire nodded.
“We will.”
That evening, Dominic returned to his penthouse.
He opened the wardrobe.
Rows of expensive suits hung beneath soft lights.
For ten years, he'd worn them like armor.
Now he saw them differently.
Beautiful fabric.
Perfect stitching.
Hidden danger.
He called Leo.
“Remove every jacket.”
Leo hesitated.
“Boss?”
“Every one.”
Leo nodded.
“And Dominic?”
He turned.
Beatrice stood in the doorway.
She held a measuring tape.
He looked at her.
“What?”
She smiled.
“When this is over, I'll make you a new suit.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“Without hidden surprises?”
She laughed.
May you like
“Only pockets.”
For the first time in years, Dominic smiled without pain shadowing the expression.
