Chapter 5 - The Command
Sarah watched the big man cry with wide, bewildered eyes. She reached out her tiny, dirt-smudged hand, gently patting his shoulder. “Don't cry, mister. Mommy says crying just means your heart is making room for a big hug.”
That simple sentence—a phrase Anne used to say to Matthew whenever he struggled under the immense pressure of his ruthless family—shattered the last of Matthew’s doubts. He pulled the tiny girl into his arms, holding her fragile frame against his chest with a fierce, protective tightness.
Sarah gasped softly, but then she wrapped her small arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. She was so light, so thin, as if she had been living on air and love alone.
Matthew stood up, lifting Sarah effortlessly in one arm while holding the cardboard box in his other hand. His grief instantly hard-faced into a cold, lethal authority.
“Dr. Harrison,” Matthew said, his voice ringing through the corridor like a steel blade. “Where is she?”
“Trauma Bay Two, sir, but the surgical team is waiting on board approval for high-risk procedures—she doesn't have insurance—”
“I am the board!” Matthew roared, making several nurses jump. “Get the Chief of Surgery down here right now! Call Dr. Robert Chen at Johns Hopkins—tell him my private jet is on the tarmac to pick him up this instant! If anyone in this building hesitates for one second because of paperwork or money, I will buy this hospital by noon and fire every single one of you!”
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He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and dialing his head of security.
“Marcus,” Matthew said into the receiver, his dark eyes fixed on the doors of Trauma Bay Two. “Clear my entire schedule for the next six months. Freeze all Sullivan family trust allocations. And find out who owned the blue car that hit Anne Miller on Elm Street. I want the driver, the vehicle owner, and their entire history on my desk before the sun sets. Someone tried to kill my wife.”
