Chapter 3
Dr. Marcus Vance’s private examination room smelled faintly of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. The blinds were drawn shut against the bright morning sun, casting long shadows across the stainless-steel equipment.
Dr. Vance stood by the sink, carefully washing his hands after finishing a thorough medical evaluation of sixteen-year-old Lucas. The expression on the veteran doctor’s face was grim, his jaw clenched tight as he dried his hands with a paper towel. He turned around, looked directly at Gabriel, and then at Lucas, who was sitting on the examination table wrapped in a paper sheet, his shoulders hunched.
“Gabriel, I’ve known this boy since he took his first steps,” Dr. Vance said, his voice heavy with suppressed anger. “These injuries didn't come from rough-housing or a playground fall. We’re looking at defensive wounds on his forearms, blunt-force trauma to his ribs that is healing improperly, and signs of chronic malnutrition. I’ve already taken high-resolution photographs of every mark, bruise, and scrape. I’ve also drawn blood panels to check for vitamin deficiencies.”
Dr. Vance stepped closer, handing Gabriel a clipboard filled with detailed medical notes.
“Legally speaking, this is severe physical abuse and severe child neglect,” the doctor continued, looking squarely into Gabriel’s eyes. “As a mandated reporter, I am required by state law to file an immediate report with Child Protective Services and the local police department. But given what you told me in the hallway about this woman’s background and the documents you found, we need to handle this strategically so she can't slip away or claim it was a misunderstanding.”
Gabriel nodded slowly, sliding the clipboard into his jacket next to the Manila folder. “Thank you, Marcus. I need official, certified copies of these medical reports and photographs stamped by your office today. I’m going straight to the district attorney’s office and a trusted family law attorney I’ve known for years.”
“Consider it done,” Dr. Vance said, resting a reassuring hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “You’re safe now, buddy. Your dad is taking care of everything.”
Leaving the clinic, Gabriel drove Lucas to a quiet, upscale diner on the outskirts of Columbus. For the first time in over a year, Lucas was allowed to order whatever he wanted from the menu without fear of being scolded for wasting money. He ordered a massive stack of blueberry pancakes, bacon, and a large glass of orange juice. Watching his son eat with genuine appetite brought a heavy ache to Gabriel’s chest, quickly replaced by a cold, hardened resolve.
After breakfast, Gabriel drove Lucas to his sister’s house—Aunt Sarah, Clara’s younger sister, who lived two towns over. Sarah had always suspected something was wrong, but whenever she called or tried to visit, Candice always intercepted, claiming Lucas was grounded, studying away at camp, or visiting friends out of town.
When Sarah opened her front door and saw Lucas standing there pale, bruised, and thin, she burst into tears, pulling the boy into a fierce, suffocating embrace.
“Oh, my sweet boy! What have they done to you?” Sarah sobbed, burying her face in Lucas’s shoulder.
Gabriel stepped inside, gently closing the front door behind them. He sat down with Sarah at her kitchen table and laid out the entire story—the discovery of the Manila folder, the pawn shop receipts, the systematic isolation, and the medical reports from Dr. Vance.
Sarah’s initial grief instantly transformed into blinding rage. She slammed her hand down on the wooden table, making the coffee mugs rattle.
“That lying, manipulative monster!” Sarah hissed, her eyes blazing. “I knew it! I knew something was wrong from the day she banned me from visiting! Gabriel, you cannot let her back into that house. What do you need me to do?”
“Keep Lucas here, safe, fed, and surrounded by family,” Gabriel said firmly. “I’m going back to the house. Candice and her crew aren't scheduled to fly back from Miami until Sunday evening. That gives me roughly forty-eight hours to dismantle her entire operation, secure my assets, set up the legal barricades, and prepare a welcome home party she will never, ever forget.”
Sarah nodded fiercely, grabbing a spare set of house keys from her drawer. “Go get her, Gabriel. And if you need backup, call me or Uncle Dave. We’ve got your back.”
With Lucas safe in the loving care of his aunt, Gabriel got back behind the wheel of his truck. He didn't drive home immediately. Instead, he drove straight to the Franklin County Courthouse, where he met with Attorney Arthur Pendelton, a sharp, veteran civil and criminal litigator who had helped Gabriel navigate business contracts decades ago.
Arthur’s office was lined with towering bookshelves filled with leather-bound legal codes. As Gabriel placed the Manila folder, the pawn shop receipts, Clara’s silver coaster, and Dr. Vance’s medical reports onto the mahogany desk, Arthur’s eyes widened behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He opened the folder, read through the forged property transfers, debt accumulation schemes, and target lists, and let out a low whistle.
“Gabriel,” Arthur said, leaning back in his leather chair and folding his hands. “This isn't just a messy domestic dispute or child abuse case. This is a multi-layered felony fraud, identity theft, embezzlement, and child endangerment operation. If we play our cards right, we can freeze all of her access, secure an emergency protective order, obtain sole custody, and have her arrested the moment she steps foot back in Columbus.”
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“How do we do it?” Gabriel asked, his voice calm and resolute.
“We strike on Sunday afternoon, right before her flight lands,” Arthur smiled, a sharp, cunning expression crossing his face. “And we use her own greed against her.”
