Chapter 5: An Unwanted Second Opinion

Chapter 5: An Unwanted Second Opinion

In a small town like Serenity Peak, secrets had the shelf life of fresh milk. Leo’s transformation was not a secret; it was a headline. He had gone from the anxious, pale young man who rarely left his cottage to a vibrant, smiling fixture of the community. He chatted with Mrs. Gable about her prize-winning roses in the grocery aisle; he held the door for strangers at the post office; he even joined the town’s recreational hiking club, his newfound energy propelling him up trails he would have been too exhausted to even consider just a few months ago. When anyone asked, he gave the credit freely and enthusiastically.

“It’s all Dr. Thorne,” he’d say, his face alight with a disciple’s fervour. “He’s a genius. He diagnosed a very rare deficiency and has me on a revolutionary new treatment plan.”

This public praise was a double-edged sword for Julian. It massaged his ego while simultaneously twisting a knot of dread in his gut. The lie was growing, taking on a life of its own beyond the sound-proofed walls of his examination room.

The first tremor of the coming earthquake came from Brenda, the clinic’s receptionist with a steel-trap memory and a gaze that could peel paint. She was efficient, professional, and missed absolutely nothing. She had noted the frequency of Leo’s after-hours “appointments” and the way he practically floated out of the clinic afterward, looking dazed and blissfully serene. It was… unusual.

One evening, Leo was leaving his session, feeling that familiar post-treatment euphoria, a hum of vitality buzzing under his skin. He stopped at the threshold of the examination room, where Julian was leaning against the doorframe.

“Thank you again, Doctor,” Leo said, his voice low and full of genuine awe. “The Induced Vascular Engorgement Therapy… I just feel like a new person.”

Julian gave a curt nod, a dark satisfaction glinting in his eyes. “The results speak for themselves. We’ll continue the protocol as planned.”

Neither of them noticed Brenda, who was staying late to finish up payroll at her desk just down the hall. The clinic was quiet, and Leo’s earnest, distinct words travelled clearly through the still air. Induced Vascular Engorgement Therapy. Brenda’s fingers paused over her keyboard. Her brow furrowed. In twenty-five years of nursing and medical administration, she had processed referrals for everything from acromegaly to Zoon's balanitis. She had never, ever heard of that.

Her suspicion, once a vague curiosity, now sharpened into a professional concern.

She chose her moment carefully two days later. She saw Leo sitting alone at a small table in "The Daily Grind," the town's only coffee shop, sketching in a notebook with a contented smile on his face. She bought a cup of tea and approached his table with a warm, maternal expression she had perfected over decades.

“Leo, dear, mind if I join you?” she asked, gesturing to the empty chair.

“Brenda! Of course,” Leo said, his smile widening. He had always been a little intimidated by her, but his new confidence was a sturdy shield.

“I just have to say, it’s wonderful to see you looking so well,” she began, stirring her tea. “The whole town is talking about it. Dr. Thorne has really worked wonders, hasn’t he?”

“He’s the best,” Leo agreed immediately. “He just… he understood what was wrong when no one else did.”

Brenda took a delicate sip of tea. “Yes, he’s a brilliant man. From the city, you know. They practice very advanced medicine there.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a confidential murmur. “I couldn’t help but overhear you the other night, mentioning your treatment. ‘Vascular Engorgement Therapy,’ was it? It sounded so cutting-edge.”

Leo nodded eagerly. “It is! It’s the cornerstone of reversing the atrophy. It restores blood flow and triggers a systemic hormonal cascade.” He recited the words Julian had given him, a perfect, trusting echo.

“Fascinating,” Brenda said, her eyes sharp and analytical over the rim of her teacup. “You know, my curiosity got the better of me. I tried looking it up in the online medical journals we have access to at the clinic. I couldn't find a single entry on it. Not under that name, anyway.”

A tiny flicker of confusion passed over Leo’s face. “Oh. Well… Dr. Thorne said it was unorthodox. An esoteric school of thought.”

“And the condition itself,” Brenda pressed gently, “Anal Insufficiency Syndrome? I looked that up, too. Again, nothing. Not in the Merck Manual, not in the PDR, nowhere. Isn’t that strange?”

The question hung in the air between them, simple, reasonable, and utterly devastating. Leo’s smile faltered. He had never once thought to verify the information. Why would he? Dr. Thorne’s authority was absolute, his diagnosis a divine revelation that had answered all of Leo’s prayers. He had the printout from the Holistic Harmony Hub, but he knew, deep down, that wasn’t a medical journal.

“He… he said it was often misdiagnosed,” Leo countered weakly, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears. “And that the terminology was… folkloric.”

“I’m sure he’s right, dear,” Brenda said, patting his hand. Her touch was meant to be reassuring, but it felt like she was checking for a pulse. “I was just curious. You take care of yourself, Leo.”

She finished her tea and left, leaving Leo sitting alone at the table. The coffee shop suddenly felt too loud, the light too bright. Brenda hadn't been malicious, but she had planted a seed. A tiny, insidious seed of doubt. It wasn’t a question of the treatment’s effectiveness—he was living proof of that. But the name… Why couldn’t an experienced nurse find a single reference to it?

Unseen by either of them, Julian Thorne had been standing at the counter, waiting for a black coffee he didn't want. He had seen Brenda approach Leo’s table, had watched the entire exchange from a distance. He couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw the shift in Leo’s posture, the way his bright, open expression clouded over with confusion, the way his hand stilled over his sketchbook. He saw Brenda’s predatory concern and knew, with a sickening certainty, what she had done.

His control was slipping. His perfect, private world had been breached. The nosy receptionist, with her access to medical databases and her small-town gossip network, was an existential threat to his entire elaborate, thrilling deception.

Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through him. He left his coffee on the counter and strode out of the shop, his mind racing. Brenda’s questioning would fester. The seed she had planted in Leo’s mind would either be uprooted, or it would grow.

He was at a crossroads. He could double down, weave a more intricate lie to discredit the nurse and pull Leo deeper into his web, isolating him completely. The thought sent a dark, possessive thrill through him. Or… he could do the unthinkable. He could tell Leo the truth. The humiliating, sordid, exhilarating truth: that there was no syndrome, no deficiency, only a jaded doctor consumed by a desperate, insatiable lust for the beautiful, trusting man who had walked into his office.

The first option would preserve his pleasure. The second risked utter destruction, but it was the only path that could lead to something real, something beyond the lie. He looked down the street and saw Leo walking away, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the sunshine in his gait dimmed. Julian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had to choose, and he had to do it now, before the fragile trust he had so carefully cultivated shattered completely.