The good news? It’s a house of cards. Because the foundation of it — that you’re incapacitated — is provably, spectacularly false.
You’re a trauma surgeon. You’ve been reading medical journals, running your own life, maintaining relationships. And now we have the regional director of his own firm — the man he needed to approve the incapacity provision — willing to testify that he walked into your home and found you entirely lucid, dignified, and competent.
Alan built his whole scheme on you being broken.
Let’s show everyone exactly how unbroken you are.”
So I got un-broken. Out loud. On the record.
I got a full, independent psychological and cognitive evaluation — from a real specialist, not Alan’s cherry-picked one. It confirmed what I already knew: I was grieving, yes, still, always would be, in the way you grieve a lost child forever. But incapacitated? Incompetent? Unable to manage my own life?
Not remotely.
I was, the evaluation noted, “a high-functioning professional demonstrating remarkable resilience following catastrophic loss.”
Alan had told his entire firm the opposite.
