Wolves at the Gate
By 2:00 AM, the quiet lobby of Mercy Central was breached.
Julian Vance walked in, flanked by Arthur Sterling, the chief legal counsel for the Vance corporation, and two uniformed private security officers. Julian had changed out of his dinner jacket into a conservative charcoal overcoat, his face arranged into an expression of theatrical, grieved concern.
"I need to see my wife and son," Julian demanded at the reception desk. "I am Julian Vance. Here are our identity cards and marriage certification."
The receptionist hesitated, looking down at the red alert note attached to Emma’s electronic chart. Before she could answer, David and Marcus stepped out of the elevator bank.
Julian froze when he saw his brother. "Marcus? What are you doing here?"
"Ensuring you don't finish what you started on the kitchen floor," Marcus said, stepping forward until he stood six inches from Julian’s face.
"Don't be ridiculous," Julian sneered, though a flicker of unease crossed his eyes. "Emma had an accident. I was in a board meeting downtown. I have twelve witnesses."
"You have twelve paid liars," David snarled, lunging forward.
Marcus put a heavy arm across David’s chest, holding him back. "Not here, David. Not in front of the cameras."
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Arthur Sterling cleared his throat, stepping between the brothers with a manila folder. "Mr. David Miller, under the provisions of the Vance family trust and marital estate law, Mr. Julian Vance is the sole legal guardian of both Emma Vance and the newborn child. We have a court-approved emergency order to transfer both patients to St. Catherine's Memorial private wing immediately."
"Try to move them," Marcus whispered, his voice dangerously soft, "and the local district attorney will receive the internal audit of the North Ridge foundation grading contracts before sunrise."
