Chapter 13: The Collapse of the House of Cards
The lead lawyer looked down at the heavy black ledger resting on his clipboard, his smug expression faltering as he recognized the gold embossed lettering of the St. Clair family seal. He tentatively opened the cover, his eyes scanning the first page—a notarized record of offshore tax evasion and judicial bribery bearing Arthur St. Clair’s own signature from three separate federal jurisdictions. The color drained entirely from the lawyer’s face.
“What... what is this?” the lawyer stammered, looking up at Julian with genuine panic in his eyes.
“That is your employer’s entire criminal history, currently mirroring to federal servers managed by the Department of Justice,” Julian said calmly, his voice dangerously low. “Every corrupt judge, every falsified document, and every illegal asset seizure executed over the past thirty years. Your emergency custody order was filed using fraudulent guardianship claims that directly violate federal racketeering statutes. If you take one step into that room, I will instruct my legal counsel to release the master file to the Associated Press before you reach the elevators.”
The two corporate lawyers exchanged a look of sheer terror. They were hired guns, well-paid mercenaries of a dying empire, not martyrs willing to go to federal prison for an aging tyrant.
“This... this changes nothing regarding the civil probate filing,” the lawyer tried to bluff, though his voice shook noticeably.
“It changes everything,” Dr. Vance interjected smoothly, stepping forward with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Because as of ninety seconds ago, the hospital ethics board received an emergency injunction from the state attorney general’s office freezing all St. Clair trust assets pending a fraud investigation. Your patron has no legal standing in this hospital anymore.”
The lawyer looked down at the ledger, then at the security guards who were slowly taking a step backward, distancing themselves from the imploding legal disaster. Without another word, the lawyer grabbed his briefcase, snatched the papers back, and muttered to his associate, “We’re leaving. Now.”
The two men turned on their heels and practically bolted down the hallway toward the elevators, leaving the security guards standing awkwardly in the corridor. Dr. Vance watched them go with a tight, satisfied smile, then turned to Julian.
“Go on in,” she whispered softly, her professional demeanor melting into genuine warmth. “He’s been waking up.”
May you like
Julian pushed past the doorway into the quiet room. The harsh fluorescent lights had been dimmed, replaced by the soft amber glow of a bedside lamp. Toby was sitting up slightly against the pillows, the bruise around his eye still dark but his bright blue eyes wide, lucid, and fixed entirely on the door.
***
