But I knew better now.
My tremors had started after the brutal beating from the creditors. The damage had been so severe that I could no longer hold a scalpel, forcing me to abandon my career as a doctor. Over time, the tremors worsened, more persistent and uncontrollable than they should have been. Doubt had gnawed at me for years—no injury could cause this kind of lasting affliction. At times, I wondered if I had been poisoned, but that thought always seemed absurd.
After all, my meals were carefully prepared by the nutritionist Tristan hired. They knew my dietary restrictions, my allergies. How could anything have been wrong?
Now, the truth crashed over me like a tidal wave.
Osteoporosis medication.
Tristan had been feeding it to me all along, weaving weakness into my body, ensuring my hands would never be steady again. The falls, the trembling, the helplessness—he had orchestrated it all.
And all of this—my ruined career, my trembling hands—was just to keep me from returning to medicine, to force me into submission, all for Faye, who was also a doctor.
Tristan led me into his office with the same gentle care he had always shown. He guided me to the sofa, his voice warm and indulgent.