Chapter 4: Forged

Ethan looked from the screen to me.

"Your husband forged your consent for an organ donation."

"Yes."

"That's a crime, Natalie."

"I know."

"We report it. Legal handles it. You don't go anywhere near him."

I was already taking off my white coat.

"Legal takes six weeks. Pierce already has a date on that form."

I pointed at the corner of the screen. Surgery requested: October 14.

Sixteen days away.

A Tuesday.

"Where are you going?"

"To see my doctor."

The Pierce Renal Clinic was on East 71st Street, behind a black door with a brass plate.

The waiting room looked like a hotel lobby.

Leather chairs. Orchids. A water feature trickling down a slate wall.

It was full.

A man with a dialysis port in his neck. An old woman with swollen ankles in a wheelchair.

A teenage boy asleep on his mother's shoulder.

Real patients.

And at the front desk, laughing with the receptionist, was Camille.

Nathaniel stood beside her with his hand on her back.

Dr. Pierce was there too, silver hair, rimless glasses, a white coat over cashmere.

He was showing them a calendar on a tablet.

"October fourteenth works beautifully," he was saying. "Natalie's labs will be a formality."

"They won't be," I said.

All three of them turned.

Camille's hand went to her chest.

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