Aurelia was hiding in the janitor's closet down the hall from Room 304. It smelled of bleach and wet mops.
Through the crack in the door, she saw them.
The elevator doors pinged, and the Blanchard cavalcade stepped out. Richard led the way, looking like a storm cloud in a suit. Catherine trailed behind him, checking her makeup in a compact mirror. Dominique was there, holding a blue folder.
And behind them, the hospital administrator, Dr. Evans, looking sweaty and terrified.
"Mr. Blanchard, really, her vitals are unstable," Dr. Evans stammered.
"I am her son!" Richard shouted, not caring who heard. "And I have a lawyer here who says I have the right to ensure her affairs are in order."
Dominique waved the blue folder. "It's just a signature, Doctor. The competency waiver. Once she signs, or you declare her unfit, we can take over the burden of her finances."
Aurelia's blood ran cold. If Genevieve signed that, or if Evans signed off on it, the voting shares transferred to Richard automatically.
She pulled out her phone. Her hands were shaking. She dialed Dr. Evans' personal cell.
She saw him jump as his phone rang in his pocket. He looked at the screen, confused, then answered.
"Hello?"
"Dr. Evans," Aurelia whispered urgently. "It's Aurelia. Don't sign that paper."
"Aurelia? Where are you? Your father is-"
"Listen to me," she cut him off. "If you declare her incompetent when she is lucid, I will release the file on Mrs. Gable."
Dr. Evans froze. He stopped walking. Mrs. Gable was a patient three years ago. Evans had missed a tumor on her scan. Aurelia had found it, but Evans had buried the mistake to avoid a lawsuit.
"You wouldn't," he hissed.
"Try me," Aurelia said. "I have nothing left to lose. Stall them. Give me ten minutes."
She hung up.
Richard was pounding on Genevieve's door. "Mother! Open up!"
He pushed the door open. The family flooded into the small room.
Aurelia kicked the closet door open. She didn't care about security anymore. She sprinted down the hall.
She burst into the room just as Dominique was thrusting a pen at Genevieve.
"Sign it, Grandma. Stop being difficult."
"Get away from her!" Aurelia screamed. She threw herself between Dominique and the wheelchair.
"You!" Richard roared. "Security! Get this trash out of here!"
Two burly orderlies appeared in the doorway. They grabbed Aurelia by the arms.
"I have medical proxy!" Aurelia shouted, struggling. "She is lucid! This is coercion!"
"She's hysterical," Catherine said, wrinkling her nose. "Take her away."
The orderlies dragged Aurelia back. She dug her heels into the linoleum.
"No! Gigi!"
Genevieve was hyperventilating. "Leave her alone! Richard, you vulture!"
"Shut up, old woman," Richard snapped. He grabbed Genevieve's wrist, forcing the pen into her hand.
"Ahem."
The sound was quiet, but it cut through the chaos like a knife.
Everyone froze.
Standing in the doorway was a man in a charcoal suit. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a face carved from granite. He radiated a kind of dangerous calm that made the air in the room change pressure.
It was Liam Cross.
"I believe," Liam said, his voice smooth and deep, "that this floor is a quiet zone. Funded, specifically, by the Blackburn family."
Richard let go of Genevieve's hand. He turned around, his face paling. He recognized the man. Everyone in the business world knew Avery Blackburn's fixer.
"Mr. Cross," Richard said, his voice dropping an octave. "We... we were just handling a family matter."
Liam stepped into the room. He didn't look at Richard. He looked at the orderlies holding Aurelia.
"Let her go," he said.
It wasn't a request.
The orderlies released Aurelia instantly. She stumbled, catching herself on the bed rail.
"Mr. Blackburn is trying to rest," Liam said, adjusting his cufflinks. "He finds this noise... displeasing."
"We're leaving," Richard said quickly. "Right now. Come on, Catherine. Dominique."
Dominique glared at Aurelia, clutching the unsigned papers to her chest. "This isn't over."
"It looks over to me," Liam said, stepping aside to clear the path to the door.
The Blanchards filed out, heads down, like scolded children.
Aurelia leaned against the bed, her heart pounding in her ears. She looked at Liam.
"Thank you," she breathed.
Liam didn't smile. He turned his gaze to her. It was assessing, cold.
"Don't thank me yet, Ms. Blanchard," he said. "My employer would like a word with you."
