“Mara,” he said, “this meeting is unnecessary. Your condition is delicate.”
I sat in the head chair before he could take it.
“My condition,” I said, “has made me very focused.”
He chuckled. “Everyone here cares about you.”
“No, Victor. Everyone here is about to hear you.”
I nodded to my attorney.
The screen lit up.
First came the clinic records. Lila using my insurance. The forged consent form. Victor listed as emergency contact. Then the deleted texts. Then the bank vault footage.
With each slide, Victor’s face drained further.
Claudine whispered, “This is illegal.”
“Yes,” I said. “Forgery usually is.”
Lila stood. “Mara, I can explain.”
“Sit down.”
She sat.
Victor slammed his hand on the table. “This is a private family matter.”
I looked at the board. “It became a corporate matter when he tried to declare me mentally incompetent to seize voting control.”
My attorney handed out packets.
“In those packets,” I said, “you’ll find signed complaints filed this morning with the police, the medical board, the insurance fraud division, and the district attorney’s office. You’ll also find Victor’s immediate termination proposal.”
Victor laughed, but it cracked midway. “You can’t terminate me. I’m your husband.”
