Chapter 3 - The Board Dinner Trap
The next evening, the lower level of the Corbin estate transformed into an arena of high-society luxury.
Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow across the grand dining room, where ten prominent board members of Corbin Medical Systems sat around a long mahogany table. Catering staff moved silently, serving prime rib and vintage wine.
At the head of the table sat Douglas Corbin, looking impeccably groomed in a custom tuxedo. His wife, Gertrude, sat to his right, beaming as she engaged the city's top investors in cheerful conversation.
Garrett was wheeled into the room by me at precisely seven-thirty. He wore a simple dark suit, his lapels neat, but his posture was deliberately slouched to maintain his fragile, invalid facade. I stood unobtrusively behind his wheelchair, wearing my neat dark caregiver scrubs, keeping my hands folded.
"Ah, Garrett!" Douglas announced loudly, standing up and raising his wine glass to garner the room's attention. "So glad you could join us, brother. As you all know, Garrett’s health remains delicate after his tragic accident, but his spirit remains firmly with this company."
Polite applause rippled through the room.
Garrett offered a faint, strained smile. "Thank you, Douglas. I am grateful that you and Gertrude have taken such... hands-on control of my affairs during my recovery."
Gertrude smiled warmly, picking up a small crystal pitcher from the side server. "We only want what is best for you, darling. In fact, I asked the caterers to prepare your special herbal tonic before dinner."
She poured a dark, amber liquid into a crystal glass and handed it to a passing waiter, gesturing toward Garrett.
I watched the waiter approach. My pulse raced, but my face remained an emotionless mask. I had spent two hours that afternoon helping Garrett prepare for this exact moment.
The waiter set the crystal glass down beside Garrett’s plate.
"Before we begin the main course," Douglas said, tapping his spoon against his glass, "I would like to informally raise the topic of the upcoming proxy vote next Tuesday. Given Garrett’s ongoing medical limitations, the board will need to officially designate a permanent voting trustee for his sixty percent share."
Several board members nodded in agreement.
"Garrett," Douglas continued, looking down the table with patronizing warmth, "we’ve drafted the power-of-attorney documents. All it requires is your signature tonight, so we can save you the stress of attending next week's formal hearing."
Garrett reached out his right hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he touched the edge of the glass containing the amber liquid.
"I appreciate your concern for my stress, Douglas," Garrett said smoothly, his voice clear and resonant across the quiet dining room. "But before I sign any documents regarding my mental or physical capacity, I think we should toast to family loyalty."
Garrett picked up the glass of amber liquid.
Gertrude’s eyes widened slightly. A subtle glint of satisfaction flashed across her face as she watched him bring the rim to his lips.
Garrett didn't drink. Instead, he turned his chair slightly toward Douglas.
"Douglas," Garrett said, holding the glass out toward his brother. "You look parched after making such a moving speech. Why don't you take the first sip? After all, Gertrude made it with so much love."
Douglas blinked, taken aback by the unusual request. "Oh, no, Garrett, that’s your special restorative tonic. I wouldn't dream of taking your medication."
"I insist," Garrett said, his tone shifting from weak to surprisingly firm. "Take a sip, Douglas. Or are you afraid there’s something inside this glass that isn't good for a healthy man?"
A quiet, awkward hush settled over the dining table. The board members glanced between the two brothers, picking up on the sudden spike in tension.
Gertrude’s face paled. She quickly reached out. "Garrett, don't be ridiculous! It’s just an herbal blend formulated specifically for your nerve therapy—"
"Then Douglas shouldn't have any issue drinking it," Garrett interrupted coldly.
Douglas laughed nervously, clearing his throat. "Garrett, you're acting paranoid. Is your new caregiver giving you strange ideas?" Douglas snapped his eyes toward me, glaring with cold hostility. "Nurse Miller, did you mix something improper into my brother's diet?"
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I stepped forward, holding my hands respectfully in front of me.
"I didn't mix anything, Mr. Corbin," I said calmly, my voice projecting clearly across the room. "However, thirty minutes ago, I personally secured a seal-tight sample of that exact tonic and handed it to officers from the Georgia State Narcotics Bureau, who are currently waiting in the driveway outside."
