Chapter 4 - The Injunction
Julian snatched the folded document from Marcus Vance’s outstretched hand. The paper was heavy, cream-colored bond, stamped with the embossed seal of the county circuit court. His eyes raced across the dense legal text, scanning past the boilerplate language until they hit the bold header: Emergency Restraining Order and Asset Freeze.
"What is this?" Julian muttered, his throat tightening as he read the clauses.
"It means you are legally barred from approaching your mother within five hundred feet," Marcus Vance said smoothly, sliding his hands back into the pockets of his charcoal trousers. "Furthermore, as of eight o'clock this morning, the court has appointed an independent financial guardian for Mrs. Hill’s estate. All personal property, including residential keys, bank accounts, and personal effects, are now under my firm's direct receivership."
Eleanor Vance watched Julian’s reaction with a look of clinical detachment, her hands folded neatly in front of her white blazer.
"You brought this on yourself, Julian," Eleanor said, her tone almost conversational. "If you had simply accepted our buyout offer for the family home three months ago, none of this would be necessary. You could have taken your share and gone back to whatever it is you do in the city. But you had to start digging into ledgers that were locked away for a reason."
Julian felt a hot surge of fury rush through his veins, but he forced himself to breathe, keeping his movements restrained. Exaggerated anger would play right into their hands; they wanted him to lash out so the security guards could physically remove him, giving them an uninterrupted window to move Martha to Beacon Ridge.
"That house isn't yours to sell, Eleanor," Julian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Dad built every beam of that place with his bare hands. And the money in that account didn't come from Vance Holdings; it was pillaged from the company he founded before you and your associates orchestrated his ouster."
Marcus Vance let out a low, patronizing chuckle. "Mr. Hill, litigation regarding your late father’s estate was settled six years ago. The statute of limitations expired before you even finished your undergraduate degree. You have no standing, no capital, and now, as per this injunction, no legal right to be in this room."
He nodded to the two security guards. "Escort him out, please. Use minimum force necessary."
The larger of the two guards stepped forward, reaching out a heavy hand to grab Julian’s shoulder by the fabric of his grey henley.
"Don't touch me," Julian said, stepping back on his own accord. He looked down at Martha one last time. Her breathing had grown slightly more stable, though she remained deep in a chemically induced slumber. "I'll leave the room. But I’m not leaving the floor."
"The injunction covers the entire third-floor cardiac wing," Marcus reminded him, tapping his temple. "Try stepping past the elevators, and county sheriff deputies will be here to arrest you for contempt before you can pull out your smartphone."
Julian turned on his heel, walking out past the security guards and into the linoleum-tiled hallway. The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind him, sealing off the room. He walked twenty feet down the corridor, stopping beside a vending machine that hummed loudly in the alcove. He pretended to study the snack selections, but his eyes were fixed on the reflection in the glass, watching the door of Room 312.
Two minutes later, the door swung open, and the nurse emerged, wheeling a portable intravenous stand, followed closely by Eleanor and Marcus. They were moving with brisk, practiced efficiency.
Julian pulled out his smartphone, his thumb tapping the screen to open an encrypted messaging app. He tapped a single pre-set icon labeled Dispatch, sending a compressed data package containing the server audit and the real medical directive to an anonymous tip line at the state attorney general's office.
May you like
As the send progress bar hit one hundred percent, his phone buzzed violently in his palm with an incoming call from an unknown, restricted number.
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