“Are you saying my husband has been giving me an experimental substance without telling me?”
“Whatever its intended purpose, something like this should never be administered without proper medical supervision and informed consent.”
I immediately thought about my exhaustion, memory problems, and the mysterious bottle Daniel had tried to hide.
Then Dr. Reeves asked whether I’d recently undergone examinations at a private clinic.
“Yes. My husband arranged them.”
“Was your physician Dr. Adrian Cole?”
My stomach tightened.
“How could you possibly know that?”
Dr. Reeves explained that his laboratory had worked with organizations connected to the clinic. He opened a file on his computer and turned the screen toward me.
There was my full name, address, and date of birth. Beneath my personal information appeared two words that made my blood run cold.
RESEARCH PARTICIPANT.
“I never volunteered for medical research!”
According to the records, however, I’d been enrolled in an experimental program investigating biological processes associated with aging. The clinic possessed consent forms bearing my signature, documents I’d signed because Daniel had assured me they were routine.
