Chapter 10 - The Doctor’s Final DepositionThree days after the arrests, the Southern District Federal Courthouse in Manhattan was surrounded by a wall of journalists and television cameras.
Inside an executive briefing room on the eighth floor, Dr. Julian Mercer sat across from Damian, federal prosecutors, and me.
Mercer was a broken man. His medical license had been revoked within hours, his luxury townhouse on Park Avenue seized, and his offshore accounts frozen by federal decree.
Wearing a gray prison jumpsuit, he pushed a pair of reading glasses up his nose and signed the final page of a fifty-page sworn deposition.
“That covers everything, Mr. Blackwood,” Mercer whispered, his voice trembling. “Every wire transfer, every prescription log, every phone call from Harold and Julian Thorne. I held nothing back.”
Damian stood across the table, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Why did you do it, Mercer?” Damian asked, his tone devoid of anger, carrying only cold, clinical curiosity. “You were already wealthy. You had a thriving practice. Why trade a young woman’s life for cash?”
Mercer lowered his head, staring at his shackled hands.
“Harold Thorne held thirty million dollars of my clinic’s debt,” Mercer confessed, tears leaking from his tired eyes. “He told me that if Alyssa woke up, he would call the loans and bankrupt me within twenty-four hours. I was weak. I was a coward. I chose my luxury over my oath.”
Damian looked at him for a long, quiet moment.
“You chose dishonor,” Damian said simply. “And now you will spend the rest of your days with your choices.”
He turned to the lead federal prosecutor, Marcus Vance.
“Make sure he serves his full sentence in a federal penitentiary, Marcus. No plea deals for early parole.”
“You have my word, Damian,” Vance replied, shaking Damian’s hand firmly.
As we walked out of the courthouse through the private underground garage, the cold autumn air felt crisp and invigorating.
Damian opened the car door for me, his hand resting gently against the small of my back.
“Are you ready to go home, Maya?” he asked softly.
May you like
I looked up into his handsome, rugged face, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace that had eluded me for six long, agonizing years.
“Take me to the bakery first, Damian,” I smiled gently. “I have a promise to keep.”
Related Stories
