Chapter 3 - The Frozen Accounts
The red emergency override flashing across Madison’s smartphone screen pulsed like a tiny beacon of doom in the otherwise sterile hospital hallway. Her breath hitched in her throat as she frantically swiped at the glass, trying to bypass the lockdown notification that blocked her mobile banking app.
"Your father's corporate assets were frozen thirty minutes ago," Clara stated quietly, her voice cutting through the hum of the overhead air vents. She retrieved her pen from her pocket and tapped it rhythmically against her clipboard. "When you threaten public staff on camera while broadcasting to half a million people, compliance algorithms tend to notice irregular corporate behavior very quickly."
Madison’s face drained of its carefully applied peach blush. "You're lying. My dad is Richard Vance. He owns half the commercial real estate downtown. He eats lunch with mayors and judges."
"Your father owns heavily leveraged debt disguised as commercial real estate," Doctor Vance corrected, crossing his arms over his white lab coat. "And for the record, we are not related, despite the shared surname. I earned my credentials through twenty years of residency, not a trust fund inheritance."
The tiny teacup dog in Madison's arm sensed her rising panic and let out a sharp, anxious yip. Passersby in the hallway began to slow their pace, whispering and pointing phones at the blonde influencer whose pristine, high-society facade was visibly cracking at the seams.
"Give me that phone, Madison," a deep, gravelly voice echoed from the end of the corridor.
Madison whipped her head around. Striding toward them was Arthur Vance, her father, looking disheveled and sweating profusely beneath a bespoke Italian suit that suddenly looked three sizes too big. He wasn't holding his usual leather briefcase; instead, he clutched a cardboard box containing a single framed photo and a desk plant.
"Dad?" Madison whispered, her voice cracking for real this time. "What are you doing here? Why are your accounts locked?"
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Arthur ignored his daughter completely, his eyes locked onto Nurse Clara with an expression of pure, unadulterated terror. He walked up to the nurse, dropped his cardboard box onto the floor with a dull thud, and fell heavily to his knees right there on the hospital linoleum.
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