Chapter 52 – Stuck. Again.

Mal not only carried me back to my bed, he made sure to take over my care while he was there. When the nurse finally came in to check on me Mal read her the riot act. His voice never went up, he didn’t shout, he didn’t even approach or physically menace her. But he spoke of possible injury and dereliction of duty and carelessness and questioned whether she truly wanted to be or even should be a nurse in such a calm matter of fact manner that she was in tears as she genuinely apologized to me.

Trixie thankfully took on the role of speaking for me, letting Mal know how everything was going. Of course, ‘how it was going’ was put through the Trixie filter, meaning I evidently was not only doing well but was very excited and happy about all the work that had been done. Frankly, I’m surprised I had enough energy to stay awake and smile and therefore had no energy left to even attempt to correct the record on my happiness of the results.

As Mal and Trixie sat on either side of me, each holding one of my hands, and chatting with each other I must have nodded off. I was awoken by Mal’s lips pressing lightly on my forehead. When he saw my eyes looking back up at him, he smiled and said quietly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. Sleep. Rest. Heal. And most importantly, have no worries about work or insurance or anything like that. I’ll stop by and see you soon after they discharge you to home.”

And with that oddly gentle encouraging word, Mal quietly left my room.

The next day a speech therapist came to see me after my walk. A walk which by the way they were making me take three times a day, though I now had two nurses accompanying me. The therapist had me work through some basic vocal techniques and seemed pleased with the croak that came out of my throat. He went over a list of exercises for me to go through and promised he’d visit me daily until my voice came back, which he expected to only take two or three days.

The next day I was able to speak, though only at a whisper and even then, the therapist recommended I try to avoid speaking at all outside of my exercises. Needing some privacy for my next step, I convinced Trixie to go home early and ‘take the afternoon off’. She didn’t want to leave my side but finally relented when I said she could bring me back something special for breakfast the next day. As soon as she was gone, I grabbed the hospital room phone and tried to remember Stephen’s home number. Before I could start dialing though, there was a light knock on my door and two people came in.

I hadn’t seen Grace and Mr. Stirling together since the day Mal, she, and I were all blackmailed by him. Neither looked particularly happy and I noted that once they were inside, Mr. Stirling closed the door to the room and seemed to be standing guard by it. Grace came and sat down next to my bed, taking my hand in both of hers. I could tell that she wasn’t doing well and had been crying earlier. She’d taken the time to re-do her makeup, but her eyes were still puffy and overly wet. “Paris, I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I don’t know if you remember, but I saw you the day after your procedure. They were keeping you out of it, but Trixie had called and told me about what had happened. It’s taken me and Mr. Stirling days to figure out what exactly went wrong and we finally got the answer by talking to Dr. Gold this morning.”

I brought my free hand over to pat at Grace’s as she was obviously not dealing well with this at all. She obviously could use some of the **** they were keeping me on as tears were openly draining down both of her cheeks, and she couldn’t look at me in the eyes. Finally, Mr. Stirling came over and traded places with Grace. While she dabbed at her tears he continued explaining. While he was calm and collected, it was clear he too was taken aback by what had happened, “Miss Beaufort, I want to personally apologize for what has happened to you. I now understand that you did not intend for any of these procedures to occur and that you were only seeking your sinus surgery. When I received word from your surgical team with the specific insurance and work-related requests, they laid out all these procedures and assured me that you had signed off on them. I was speaking with Mr. Orpheus about it and he seemed to agree with me that this didn’t feel like something you would volunteer for, but he suddenly changed track and approved it.”

I feel the first bits of anxiety setting in as I believe I know what happened. Mr. Stirling continues by pulling out a copy of the sheet where I’d initially signed off on the procedures. The one that Dr. Lockwood got me to sign. The signature that Stephen later crossed out and that we both initialed. Mr. Stirling points at the line running through the bottom third of my name and both sets of initials as he continues, “This is what I initially saw when they faxed over the information. Your signature, underlined as if in excitement, and then initialed by both you and the surgeon.”

Mr. Stirling holds up his hand at me, silencing my retort as he goes on, “I still doubted this as you’d shown hesitation on feminizing yourself and had expressed a desire to change back when this whole process was done. That’s why I called Mr. Orpheus, to discuss it with him. When his approval seemed adamant, I added my signature and got the insurance lined up for you. Only after Miss Thompson contacted me, distraught by your surgical procedures, did I investigate further. You see, Mr. Orpheus assured me that you yourself told him to approve this. While he is far from a perfect human being, he is not an overt liar in this kind of situation. So, I talked to Dr. Gold to see how he and you came to initial the document.”

I start nodding, now seeing how this got through the approvals process. Mr. Stirling finished laying it out, obviously wanting to make sure there wasn’t any further confusion, “Your friend Dr. Gold initially worked diligently to maintain your falsified desire of eminizing yourself during our conversation. Once he realized that I not only knew of your predicament but was responsible for it, he explained how you had asked him to go over possibilities. How the on-site gender therapist mistakenly had you sign this approval. How he tried to cross out your name and then initial it to show that it was to be crossed out. To his credit, he assumed that he’d be on site during your procedure and that any problem arising could be dealt with personally. He obviously couldn’t predict his car accident, nor your injection of anti-anxiety medications, nor your quick response to the anesthesia.”

I look from Mr. Stirling to Grace and back, shaking my head slightly as I’m still too upset to even consider this funny. Thankfully if they thought this comedy of errors was funny, they didn’t express it externally. Quietly, to make sure my words don’t distort in my still healing throat, I say, “Okay. This sucks. But how long until we can get it undone? How long until the reversal surgeries can be scheduled?”

Grace immediately lowers her eyes and seems to intently study her feet. Mr. Stirling at least keeps looking at me, though I think even with his light skin I see him grow pale. “Miss Beaufort, you can certainly request a reversal of these procedures from your team. I understand Dr. Montgomery will be by later this afternoon to approve your upcoming discharge plans. But I would highly and most strenuously suggest you not do that.”

My furrowed brow and hands tossed up must have conveyed my confusion. Likely with the ‘What The Fuck’ attitude I wanted it to as Mr. Stirling swallowed with a loud click before going on, “All of your medical and insurance records still indicate you are a male transitioning to female. These procedures were approved after months of therapy, multiple consultations with your surgeon and with a second gender therapist, were signed off by you, initialed by you and your surgeon, and carried out with standard critical safety measures in the operating room confirming the procedures with you before they began. If any one of these things weren’t 100% correct, it would throw up red flag after red flag with your insurance company. They would withhold payment for anything already completed and deny any request for any further work, including rehabilitation and recovery, until their investigation was completed. Their investigation would, at best, find out that you’ve never wanted to transition and were being blackmailed by us, in which case they’d simply deny you payment. At worst it would find that you lied to your therapist, surgeon, and whole medical team and that you were therefore responsible for payment and then deny any payment. In other words, unless they believe this is 100% above board, they will deny payment. Sculpted Dream, while a wonderful group of people, have invested hundreds of thousands of dollars into your procedures and are going to demand payment. Even if the insurance company doesn’t come after you for fraud, which I can almost positively assure you they will, Sculpted Dream will come after you for payment.”

Mr. Stirling surprised me by gently reaching out and patting my shoulder, “And while I can sympathize with your position, and will admit to you and Miss Thompson my part in all of this, please understand that my job is to protect K Edison Global. If you pursue any legal remedies, they will need to implicate Mr. Orpheus, myself, Miss Thompson, Mrs. Birdie, and other members of the K Edison Global corporation. I assure you that while the legal department of K Edison Global might not be able to completely get out of this situation, they can hang this up in court for years. Decades even. And all that while, you’ll be sued by Sculpted Dream, and likely counter sued by Mr. Orpheus and K Edison Global. Your legal bills would be enough to bankrupt a wealthy individual, let alone a lone photographer. You’d be hard pressed to find a lawyer to take such a case on contingency, so you’d have to make this money up front and pay as the process goes through. And while I can say this with full compassion and even pity, I can also say this with full confidence… you would lose any such legal actions. At best, if you didn’t serve jail time, you would owe Sculpted Dream for all this work and no plastic surgeon would work on you ever again, leaving you forever in this body.”

Once Mr. Stirling had mentioned going into legal ramifications, I more or less stopped listening. Of course, what he said is true, but he isn’t even aware of Mal’s ****. Anything going wrong with me would undoubtedly jeopardize his position and kick in his own ****, sending me to prison. If it didn’t hurt my throat, my chest, my abdomen, and just about every part of my body, I’d probably be sobbing and crying like a child in the middle of a tantrum. As is, I hold my growing despair in deep enough that only some tears leak down my cheek. I now understand why Grace couldn’t look at me. While I can’t resent her for it, if she were here she could have stopped this. Trixie didn’t know that I didn’t want these procedures, so she didn’t question them at all. My last chance ‘guardian’ was unable to guard me.

Mr. Stirling lets me cry for awhile before handing me a tissue, patting my shoulder again, and continuing on in his quiet matter of fact voice, “As I’ve indicated, I’m not without sympathy. If you are able to continue on with these enhancements to your body, if you’re able to continue on the path that we’ve set forward, and if we’re able to make it to the public offering of K Edison Global without any of this coming to light, I’ll make sure that you are as well compensated as I can make you. I had calculated your generous severance package before at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. More than enough to compensate you for the year playing this part. Now, with these new circumstances, I’ll increase that to four million dollars. Yes, I’m aware that it is nothing compared to the physical changes you’ve gone through or the mental gymnastics you’ll have to work through over the next few months, but it at the very least will allow you to make any changes you’d like. Cash payment means no insurance and no insurance means no insurance fraud. I know some of this cannot be changed back, such as your body hair removal and aspects of your facial sculpting, but you can get back as close to your previous body as money will allow plus enough to live quite a comfortable life by your previous standards. Please understand, this is an agreement between you, Miss Thompson, and me alone. I’ll be doing my own less than legal activities to make such a payment possible, but I’m willing to help if I can. IF no one else knows about it.”

Mr. Stirling stands up and nods. It’s clear he’s uncomfortable and wants to leave. I can’t blame him as I’d like to just walk away from this whole thing too, “Miss Beaufort, you have a lot to think about. I’d suggest not talking to Dr. Montgomery about your desire to change back. What can be talked about today can always be talked about next week. What IS talked about today cannot be taken back next week. Give yourself some time to consider all of your options. You are approved for a full three-month recovery period. So long as I see no action being taken by you against K Edison Global or myself in that time and I see you back in the office upon your full recovery, I’ll assume you’ve agreed to these terms. If you have any questions or simply need to vent your completely understandable frustrations once your voice returns, please contact me.”

And with that Mr. Stirling turns and marches past Grace at the door. Grace practically throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me in for a tight hug, sobbing and crying on my shoulder as she says over and over “I’m so sorry Paris, I’m so sorry Jamie, I’m so so sorry, I’m sorry Paris….”

For my part I try my best not to cry out in agony as Grace is obviously unaware of the pain she’s causing by crushing my new huge breasts.