All Chapters of Der MVP Der Mich Am Altar Verließ : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Isolde's POVThe team pharmacy was located in the basement of the training facility and was monitored by a camera that recorded every entry and every movement.The air had a faint smell of disinfectant.Amaris and I went in under the pretext of a routine inventory check. The pharmacist on duty seemed to have been working there for several years. He answered each of our questions with the same cautious neutrality and never said more than he was asked.We requested Zevran's prescription dispensing lists for the past eight months. He produced them without comment. On the surface, the paperwork appeared clean: correct dosages, accurate timestamps, and matching doctor signatures.Then Amaris asked for the secondary logs – the lists that recorded when sealed bottles left the pharmacy and when they were signed off by the player support staff. These secondary logs told a different story.Over the past four months, Zevran's medication had been picked up three times by a junior staff member who

Isolde's POVI lay facing Zevran under the covers, drawing small circles on his chest. Suddenly my phone rang. It was a call from Evren. I quickly put on my nightgown and left the room with the phone to my ear.I sat down at the kitchen island, the latest Holter log open on my laptop. The numbers showed the same irregular pattern as always."I need to see you. Alone. Tonight," Evren said. His voice didn't sound the same anymore. It was rough. Tense."Where?" I asked, looking towards the room. The monitor on the bedside table glowed faintly through the open bedroom door."The underground parking garage beneath the medical building. In twenty minutes."He hung up before I could reply.I changed into a simple dress. "Be right back," I wrote on a piece of paper and placed it on the nightstand before leaving the room after one last glance at Zevran's sleeping face. I took the private elevator down. The garage was already empty at this hour. Fluorescent lights flickered above us. Evren stoo

Isoldes POVDie Auswärtsreise sollte ein geringes Risiko darstellen. Zevran war nur für begrenztes Reisen freigegeben. Keine vollen Trainingseinheiten. Keine Spielminuten. Und durchgehende Überwachung. Das Team spielte zwei Nächte in Philadelphia.Ich war als behandelnde Ärztin unter den neuen Einschränkungen des Vorstands mitgereist. Jede Entscheidung brauchte eine zweite Unterschrift. Jeder Bericht musste in Echtzeit eingereicht werden.Wir checkten im Hotel unter dem Zimmerblock der Organisation ein. Die Rezeption hatte uns bereits angrenzende Suiten zugewiesen. Als die Schlüsselkarten übergeben wurden, sah Zevran auf die Nummer, dann auf mich. Er sagte nichts. Ich hätte wissen müssen, dass die Ruhe nicht lange anhalten würde.In dieser Nacht, nach dem Teamdinner und dem obligatorischen Check-in beim Trainingsteam, kehrte ich in die Suite zurück und fand Zevran bereits drinnen. Er saß am Schreibtisch, mein Laptop geöffnet. Der Stick, den Evren mir gegeben hatte, war eingesteckt. Di

Isolde's POVThe email arrived at 7:42 a.m., while I was still in the hotel bathroom brushing my teeth.Subject: Formal notice of suspension – Dr. Isolde Veyra.I opened it with wet hands. Water dripped from my fingers onto the screen. The language was precise and cold—the kind of institutional voice that pretends to have no personal stake in the destruction it is wreaking. Effective immediately, I was suspended from all clinical duties pending a full review of “serious discrepancies” in Zevran Caelis’s medical records. The discrepancies, the email claimed, suggested a deliberate falsification of test results and symptom descriptions to exaggerate the severity of his condition.Attached were screenshots of the modified files.My name was on every relevant signature line.I sat heavily on the edge of the bathtub. The porcelain was cold through the thin hotel bathrobe. For a moment, the only sound was the soft dripping of the tap, which I had forgotten to turn off completely.Someone ha

Isolde's POVWe left the penthouse before sunrise, when the city was still half asleep and the streets belonged mostly to delivery vans and the occasional night-shift worker heading home. Tavian had organized everything the night before with the quiet efficiency that only comes from years of protecting loved ones. The temporary apartment was on the Upper West Side, registered in a friend's name—nothing that bore Zevran's or the team's signature. No doorman to recognize our faces. No cameras connected to the organization's security network. No digital footprint Alaric's people could easily track.We took only what mattered: the secure USB drives, the physical copies of the insurance policy, the original pharmacy records, a change of clothes, and the portable monitor that had become an extension of Zevran's body. We left everything else behind. The penthouse, the familiar view of the skyline, the life that had begun to feel almost normal again—none of it was safe anymore.The new apartm