Chapter 7 - The Emergency Ward
The sirens of the ambulance were still ringing faintly in Julian’s ears as his town car screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance of St. Jude’s Hospital. He didn't wait for the valet; he threw open the door, vaulted over the concrete curb, and sprinted through the automatic sliding glass doors into the sterile, brightly lit lobby.
"Arthur Vance," Julian demanded, slamming his hands onto the reception desk. The night-shift nurse jumped, looking up from her monitor with a startled expression. "Where is he? Arthur Vance. Admitted twenty minutes ago from the Grand Astoria gala."
"Room 408, fourth floor intensive care," the nurse said, typing frantically. "Are you family?"
"I'm his nephew," Julian snapped, already turning toward the elevators. "And his primary next of kin."
"Sir, you need to sign in—"
Julian was already gone, sprinting down the corridor toward the bank of elevators. The digital display crawled upward at a maddeningly slow pace. When the doors finally slid open on the fourth floor, Julian bolted down the linoleum hallway, following the frantic beeping of heart monitors.
He skidded to a halt outside Room 408. The door was wide open.
Inside, standing beside the bed where an elderly man lay unconscious with an oxygen mask strapped to his face, was a figure Julian hadn't seen in five years. Richard Vance. He was older, his dark hair threaded with silver, wearing an expensive tailored suit that looked entirely out of place in a hospital ward. He was holding a leather-bound legal portfolio and signing his name with a gold fountain pen.
"You're trespassing," Julian said, his voice echoing off the tile walls as he stepped into the room.
Richard didn't look up immediately. He finished the final stroke of his signature, capped the pen with a satisfying click, and slowly turned around. A smug, victorious smile spread across his face.
"Hello, cousin," Richard said smoothly, his voice carrying the same arrogant cadence that had nearly destroyed their family company a decade ago. "Nice of you to join us. Although you missed the paperwork ceremony."
Julian ignored him, rushing past Richard to the side of the bed. "Uncle Arthur! Can you hear me?"
The elderly man’s eyelids fluttered weakly, but he remained heavily sedated, his breathing shallow and rattling against the plastic oxygen mask.
"Don't waste your breath, Julian," Richard said, walking leisurely toward the window that overlooked the rain-slicked city streets. "The doctors pumped his system full of sedatives the moment the paramedics wheeled him in. By the time he wakes up, his signature on the corporate restructuring papers will be old news, fully ratified by the board's emergency quorum."
Julian whirled around, his eyes blazing with fury. "You poisoned him. Just like you tried to poison the company's accounts before you faked your death on that yacht."
"Careful with accusations, Julian. That's defamation," Richard chuckled, stepping into the dim light of the hallway. "Besides, I didn't touch his medicine. Elena merely ensured that his usual evening cocktail at the gala had a little extra... assistance. A natural sedative. Perfectly untraceable."
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Before Julian could lunge across the hospital bed, two massive private security guards stepped into the doorway, blocking his exit with heavy, folded arms.
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