Chapter 5 - The Trap Set in Gold
A cold, lethal anger flared in my chest—an anger so pure and bright it burned away every lingering trace of fear I had carried since that terrible night at the clinic.
"Unfit?" I stepped toward the lawyer, my hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. "His father poisoned me! He admitted it on police body-cam footage! He grinds controlled substances into my food!"
"My client claims he was administering holistic remedies prescribed by an offshore practitioner to help you manage your severe, un-diagnosed bipolar disorder," Pendelton replied without blinking, his voice devoid of any human empathy. "We have statements from several of Evan's associates indicating that you have suffered from delusions, severe memory loss, and emotional outbursts for over two years. We also have medical records from your primary care physician documenting your frequent visits for unexplainable lethargy and confusion."
"Because he was poisoning me!" I shouted, the force of my voice causing Maya to step into the hallway to check on Noah.
"That is a matter for the court to decide, Mrs. Lin," Pendelton said calmly, laying the motion papers on the edge of the dining room table. "The court hearing for temporary custody is scheduled for Friday morning at the County Family Court. Given your documented medical history, the state may feel that placing the child with his paternal grandfather, Mr. Richard Vance, in Chicago is in the boy's best interest until the criminal trial concludes."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the house, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. The heavy front door clicked shut behind him.
Maya rushed into the room, her face pale. "Clara... they can't take Noah, can they? They can't possibly do that!"
"They're trying to discredit me," I said, my voice trembling with rage as I stared at the legal documents on the table. "If they can make me look like a drug-addicted, mentally unstable mother who made up a conspiracy story, Evan’s defense team can argue that Noah was coerced into testifying against his father. They want to turn this into a civil custody battle to destroy the criminal case!"
"We need a lawyer," Maya said fiercely. "The best family law attorney in the state."
"No," I said, a sudden realization washing over me. "We need more than a family lawyer. We need to find out who Evan’s 'primary care physician' really was."
Ten minutes later, I was on the phone with Dr. Patel at the Harper Road Urgent Care Clinic.
"Dr. Patel," I said, my voice tight. "When I was brought into your clinic three days ago, you said you looked at my medical records from my primary physician, Dr. Harrison at Oakridge Family Health. Did anything about those records seem unusual to you?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear the rustle of papers and the steady clicking of a computer keyboard.
"Mrs. Lin," Dr. Patel said carefully. "I shouldn't be discussing this outside of a official medical board inquiry, but... when we requested your full chart from Dr. Harrison's office on the night of your husband's arrest, we received forty pages of notes detailing severe clinical depression, persistent paranoia, and multiple missed appointments."
"I never missed an appointment," I said flatly. "And I was never diagnosed with clinical depression."
"That's what caught my attention," Dr. Patel continued, his tone turning dark. "The digital signature on those chart notes was uploaded to the medical portal in bulk three weeks ago—all at once. They weren't entered over two years. They were backdated."
My breath hitched. "Dr. Harrison... he’s Evan’s college roommate's brother. Evan recommended him to me when my old doctor retired."
"Then you need to get your criminal defense team to subpoena Dr. Harrison’s office server immediately, Mrs. Lin," Dr. Patel advised grimly. "If those records were backdated, it’s not just medical malpractice. It’s forgery and conspiracy to commit a felony."
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I hung up the phone and looked at Maya, who was standing in the doorway holding a cup of hot coffee.
"They think I'm weak," I said, picking up the legal motion Pendelton had left on the table and tearing it cleanly in half. "They think because I was sick for six months, I forgot how to fight. Call Detective Miller. Tell her we're filing additional criminal charges tomorrow morning."
