Chapter 3 - The Diagnosis
I opened the folder. I didn't rush. I pulled out a single sheet of paper bearing the crest of the state medical board and a judge's signature.
"For seven years, Connor, you watched me inject myself with hormones," I said quietly, my voice carrying clearly down the silent corridor. "You watched me cry in bathrooms. You watched me blame my own body for failing us. And every single time the doctor called with the test results, you made sure you were the one who took the call."
Connor's chest puffed out, but his eyes were darting frantically. "Because you were too emotional to handle the bad news!"
"No," I corrected, stepping closer. "Because you were paying Dr. Evans twenty thousand dollars a year under the table to alter my charts."
The silence in the hallway was so absolute you could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights.
"That's a lie," Connor whispered, but the arrogant boom was gone from his voice.
"Dr. Evans lost his medical license yesterday," Kenneth stated coolly. "He confessed to everything to avoid jail time. He provided the unedited files, the wire transfers from your personal accounts, and your actual, original test results."
May you like
I held out a piece of paper. Connor didn't take it. His hands were trembling too hard.
"You have Nonobstructive Azoospermia, Connor," I diagnosed him, my voice completely devoid of pity. "A zero sperm count. Irreversible. You've been completely, permanently sterile since you were a teenager. I was never the problem. You were."
