The Frame Job

Sarah stared at the name on the medical printout, the letters blurring into a black smear of impossibility. *Patient: Sarah Miller.* Her own name. Not Lily’s.

The clinical data, the chemical match for the antipsychotic compound, the dosage timeline—it had all been logged under her identity. Elena had spent weeks building a digital paper trail that made it look like Sarah was the one obtaining the pills, the one experimenting with "restorative cycles," the one descending into a pharmaceutical-induced mania.

"You see, Sarah?" Elena’s voice was like honey poured over a razor blade. She stood up slowly, her silhouette looming over the desk. "You’ve been self-medicating for months. The paranoia, the break-ins, the obsession with my college years... it’s all right here in your records."

"You forged this," Sarah rasped, her hands spasming. She tried to grab the bottle, but Elena’s hand shot out, pinning Sarah's wrist to the mahogany with terrifying strength. "You used your access to the hospital database. You’re framing me so you can keep Lily."

"I’m saving Lily from a mother who has lost her grip on reality." Elena didn't look angry; she looked pitying. "And unfortunately, your episode has reached a crisis point."

The heavy oak door to the office swung open. Two uniformed security guards stepped into the room, their faces grim and unyielding. They didn't look at Dr. Vance; they looked at Sarah, the woman currently vibrating with a desperate, toner-stained rage.

"She’s armed," Elena said, her voice rising in a pitch-perfect imitation of fear. "She slammed that bottle down—I think she was going to force me to take them. Please, get her out of here before she hurts someone."

The guards moved in. Sarah tried to twist away, but her wrist was still trapped under Elena’s palm. The smell of the clinic—disinfectant and expensive carpet—suddenly felt like the air inside a coffin.

"I’m not crazy!" Sarah screamed as the guards gripped her upper arms, hoisting her toward the door. "Look at the dates! Look at the Florence invoices!"

Elena followed them into the hallway, her face a mask of tragic concern as nurses and late-night patients turned to watch the scene. She stepped into Sarah’s personal space, her movements appearing to the onlookers as an attempt to soothe her sister.

She leaned in, wrapping her arms around Sarah in a mock embrace that felt like a chokehold. The guards paused, granting the respected doctor a final moment with her sibling.

"If you tell anyone about the pills," Elena whispered into Sarah's ear, her breath cold against her skin, "I'll tell everyone you gave them to her."