Dr. Evans arrived thirty minutes later, carrying his black leather medical kit and accompanied by Mrs. Gable.
The elderly physician had been the Sterling family doctor since Marcus was a boy, and he had delivered Lily in the private maternity wing six years earlier.
When Dr. Evans gently rolled up the short sleeves of Lily’s pale pink dress, his weathered face hardened into an expression of grim fury.
He clicked on a small examination light, carefully inspecting the faint, dark finger-shaped bruises ringing the child’s upper arms.
"Deep tissue bruising along both humerus bones," Dr. Evans murmured grimly, writing notes into a black leather binder. "Consistent with forceful adult restraint."
He moved to Lily’s wrists, noting faint redness where her arms had been pinned against the cold marble tiles.
"She also has minor dehydration and mild hypoglycemia, Marcus," Dr. Evans said, turning to look directly at the father. "Has she eaten today?"
Marcus felt a sharp, burning pang in his chest.
"Vanessa claimed she refused dinner," Marcus answered, his voice laced with venom.
Lily sat quietly on the bed, holding Mrs. Gable’s hand while the housekeeper gently fed her small spoonfuls of warm chicken broth.
"She didn't refuse," Lily whispered softly, looking up at the doctor. "Aunt Vanessa threw my sandwich in the disposal at noon because I dropped a crayon on the dining rug."
Dr. Evans let out a heavy, sorrowful sigh, closing his medical binder with a sharp click.
"I've taken high-resolution photographs of every contusion, Marcus," the doctor stated in an official, unwavering tone. "I will sign an emergency clinical affidavit and forward it directly to Child Protective Services and the county prosecutor's office by midnight."
"Thank you, Henry," Marcus said, his voice flat and resolute. "Make sure the report notes the threat of forced animal consumption as aggravated psychological torture."
"It will be included under mandatory state reporting codes," Dr. Evans confirmed, packing his instruments into his leather bag.
Once the doctor left the room, Mrs. Gable helped Lily wash her face and change into a pair of soft flannel pajamas.
Within ten minutes of finishing her warm soup, the emotional exhaustion overwhelmed the little girl, and she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep with her arms wrapped around her stuffed bear.
Marcus stood beside the crib-turned-bed for a long time, watching her chest rise and fall in the dim glow of the nightlight.
He leaned down, pressed a gentle kiss to her soft temple, and pulled the down comforter up to her chin.
When he stepped back out into the upper hallway, his chief of personal security, Thomas Vance, was waiting near the grand staircase.
Vance stood at attention, holding a dark gray tablet in his gloved hands.
"Where is she, Thomas?" Marcus asked, his tone dropping below freezing.
"She’s being held in the gatehouse conference room, sir," Vance reported crisply. "Two guards are stationed at the door, and her personal smartphone has been secured."
Marcus adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.
"Let's go have a word with my wife."
