“She’s telling the truth,” Mason interrupted. “I saw you from the tree outside her window. I tried to tell someone, but no one listens to kids like me.”
In an instant, Charles understood. The unexplained treatments. The endless fees. His daughter had been drugged—kept ill for profit.
“Security,” Charles said calmly into the intercom. “Call the police. Attempted homicide.”
Dr. Pierce tried to flee, but Charles blocked him.
Later, after the doctor was taken away, Olivia asked to explain.
She and Mason had met through a gap in the fence near an old oak tree. She had been lonely; he scavenged nearby. She passed him sandwiches. He told her stories. They became friends.
“The day he caught us talking,” Olivia said softly, “he got angry. Said you’d never allow it. He gave me pills to ‘calm me down.’”
“I saw her collapse,” Mason added. “I came every day after that.”
Charles felt shame heavier than any financial loss. He had built towers but neglected his child.
“Mason,” he asked gently, “do you have family?”
“No, sir.”
Charles nodded. He made a call.
“Attorney Collins, I need adoption papers and revised trust documents tomorrow morning.”
Mason stared. “Adoption?”