[Jake's POV]
Dr. Alistair Vale looked harmless in his public photograph.
That made me dislike him immediately.
He had the clean face of a man who had built his entire life around soft voices and locked doors. Late forties, dark hair brushed neatly back, rimless glasses, pale skin, and the kind of calm smile people trusted when they were frightened enough to hand over control of their bodies. His biography said private neurological consultant, trauma recovery specialist, discreet family care. All phrases rich people used when they wanted suffering hidden behind polished walls.
Nia threw his profile across the wall screen and leaned back in her chair. "No public clinic. No hospital appointments. No lectures. No academic papers in ten years. He exists only when very wealthy people need a doctor no one can subpoena easily."
Evelyn Cross's eyes narrowed. "Everyone can be subpoenaed."
Nia glanced at her. "That was terrifyingly attractive as a sentence."
