Page 61 of Ruthless Riches
He leaned forward again, eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. “Well, then… let me tell you all about my granddaughter,” he said. “She has quite a history of mental health issues.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. Given his history, he could be lying to me right now.
“When Deborah got sick, I accessed Alexis and Sascha’s medical records to see if there was anything in them that could help me determine if either of them were a possible match,” he said. “This was before I spotted Alexis at the Mayfair Club and had her blood checked, obviously.”
“Right. So you saw something in Sascha’s records?”
“Actually, no. It was in Alexis’s records,” he said. “I could see that she had a prescription listed for sleep issues, which is fairly normal. But there was also a prescription for Aripiprazole. Have you ever heard of that?”
I nodded, heart thundering in my chest. Aripiprazole was the name of the medication I found in Alexis’s trashcan months ago. It was an anti-psychotic drug.
Alexis had never been able to explain why I found that pill bottle at her apartment, and until now, we’d both assumed that it had to be some sort of mistake the pharmacist made when labeling the bottle.
Clearly, that wasn’t the case at all.
Edward rubbed the back of his neck and raised his brows. “Seeing that medication listed on the records made me curious, so I dug a little deeper, and something became clear to me soon after that. The prescription had been filled in Alexis’s name, but it wasn’t for her. It was for Sascha. She’d somehow used her sister’s name to get it.”
“How could you tell?”
“When I did my digging and found the patient notes, I realized that none of it actually matched Alexis. The age, occupation, height, weight, and the stories the patient told the psychiatrist matched Sascha instead. I suppose she must’ve felt embarrassed about getting treatment for mental issues, because there’s still a fair amount of stigma surrounding it, even in today’s world.” Edward stopped and let out a short sigh. “Anyway, like I said before, she must’ve figured out a way to use her sister’s name during the consultations. So the Aripiprazole ended up on Alexis’s record.”
“What was Sascha’s diagnosis?” I asked.
“From what I recall, she has a whole host of issues,” Edward said, scratching his jaw. “She got the Aripiprazole prescription after she experienced something called ‘brief psychotic disorder’ back in 2018. That’s when a patient has a short, sudden episode of psychosis. It’s usually a response to trauma or stress.”
“What are the other issues?”
“Hmm.” Edward frowned and flicked his eyes to the left. “I believe I saw a few pages detailing some sort of personality disorder. Severe abandonment issues, too. The doctor thought those issues stemmed from her childhood. Mostly the drama with her father being a mass murderer and seemingly ‘abandoning’ his family over that.”
“You mean the drama you and your Golden Circle friends caused,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Peter Covington wouldn’t have gone to prison or died if it wasn’t for you.”
“Do you want me to talk or not?” Edward asked, smiling thinly.
I gritted my teeth. “Fine. Go on.”
“Basically, Sascha experienced a lot of trauma in her young life. Different people process trauma in different ways, and with her, it obviously manifested in serious emotional difficulties. She’s a nice young woman with a fantastic creative mind, but—” Edward paused and tapped the side of his head. “She’s not very well.”
“Right.” I clenched and unclenched my hands on my lap as his words sank in. “You said scopolamine can cause psychosis, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but only in rare cases.”
“What would happen if you gave frequent doses of scopolamine to someone who’d already suffered from psychosis in the past? Would they be more likely to have a psychotic break than someone who’s never suffered from mental issues before?”
“I think so, yes,” Edward replied. “But it didn’t happen with Sascha, if that’s what you’re getting at. She’s still a moody ball of emotions—that’s the abandonment issues rearing their ugly head—but apart from that, she’s fairly stable. At least that was the impression I got when I spent time with her.”
“But you can’t be sure, can you?” I said. “You didn’t spend much time with her.”
Edward shrugged. “I suppose not.”
I stood up abruptly. “Thanks for seeing me, Edward.”
“Wait. That’s it?” he asked.
“Yeah. I have to go.”
“All right.” His pale lips stretched into a thin smile, and he leaned back in his seat. “I’ve enjoyed this little chat. You should come and visit me again sometime.”
I scoffed. “Don’t hold your breath.”
