Chapter 8 - The Hospital Shadows
Forty-eight hours later, the local news headlines were dominated by one story:
LOGISTICS TYCOON ARTHUR VANCE CRITICAL AFTER SEVERE STROKE; FAMILY PREPARES FOR CONSERVATORSHIP HEARING.
St. Jude’s Private Hospital had cleared out the entire VIP wing on the fifth floor. Arthur lay in a high-tech hospital bed, connected to heart monitors and IV lines, looking pale under the fluorescent lights.
Only Uncle Thomas, two undercover police officers dressed as hospital guards, and I were inside the suite.
It was 2:00 AM. Outside, fog rolled in off the bay, smothering the hospital grounds in a thick white blanket.
I sat in an armchair beside my father’s bed, holding a warm cup of coffee, pretending to wipe tears from my eyes whenever hospital staff walked past the frosted glass window.
Suddenly, the room’s main lights flickered once, twice, and went out.
The emergency red backup lights clicked on, casting long, bloody shadows across the room.
The heart monitor beside Arthur’s bed began to beep erratic, high-pitched alerts as the power grid shifted.
"Thomas?" I called out softly into the dim red light.
No answer came from the hallway.
The door to the private suite slowly creaked open.
A man stepped into the room. He wore a doctor’s white coat over a black tactical turtleneck, his surgical mask pulled down around his neck.
It was Julian.
His eyes were sunken, dark circles hollowed beneath them, but his face carried a wild, manic triumph. In his right hand, he held a syringe filled with clear liquid. In his left hand, he held a leather folder containing the forged will.
"Hello, Clara," Julian whispered, stepping toward the bed. "Sad way for the great Arthur Vance to go, isn't it?"
I stood up, backing away toward the window, my hands shaking convincingly. "Julian... how did you get in here? Where are the guards?"
"Your little guards are taking a short nap in the stairwell," Julian smirked, leaning over Arthur’s motionless body. "It's over, Clara. I sign these conservatorship papers as his legal power of attorney, inject ten milligrams of potassium into his IV, and Vanguard takes control of the entire estate by morning. You and your bastard baby will be on the street by noon."
"You're insane, Julian," I said, keeping my voice steady enough to stall him. "You won't get away with this."
"I already have," Julian laughed coldly, raising the syringe toward the IV line.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, son."
May you like
Arthur’s eyes snapped wide open.
Before Julian could react, Arthur grabbed Julian’s wrist with surprising, terrifying force, twisting the syringe away from the IV!
