Chapter 4 - The Sentinel at 4 AM
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The nurse brought a portable desktop phone to my bed. I picked up the receiver and dialed an eleven-digit number that I had kept memorized since the day I turned eighteen.
It was a number Evan had never seen, never heard of, and never imagined existed.
The line rang twice before a deep, steady voice answered on the third ring.
“Holloway.”
“James,” I said softly into the receiver. “Activate the Mercer contingency plan.”
There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.
“Claire?” James Holloway’s voice instantly shifted from sleepy to razor-sharp. “Are you safe?”
“I’m in Room 412 at St. Jude’s Memorial,” I said. “My leg is broken in two places. Evan, Richard, and Diane did it in the foyer three hours ago. They were trying to force a share transfer.”
“Jesus Christ,” James breathed. “The server?”
“The foyer camera caught the entire event,” I confirmed. “Audio, video, high definition. The credentials are stored in my encrypted vault.”
“I’m on my way,” James said without a second of hesitation. “Do not speak to anyone. Do not answer questions from the hospital staff about the origin of the injury until I arrive. I will have my security team meet me at your door.”
The line went dead.
James Holloway arrived at the hospital room at four fifteen in the morning.
To Evan and his parents, James was nothing more than an aging, retired corporate attorney who occasionally handled minor family estate planning. What they didn't know was that James had been my grandfather’s closest friend and my personal legal trustee for over a decade.
He was the architect who had helped me structure my forty-percent stake in Mercer Logistics seven years ago—insisting on protective clauses that Evan had been too lazy and arrogant to read before signing the founding incorporation papers.
James walked into my room carrying a sleek aluminum briefcase. He looked immaculate despite the hour, dressed in a sharp dark suit.
He set his laptop on my bedside tray, entered the cloud credentials I dictated to him, and clicked play on the foyer security video.
For four minutes, the quiet room was filled with the sickening sounds of Diane’s screeching, Richard’s thudding boots, my screaming, and Evan’s calm, mocking laughter.
James watched the screen in absolute, terrifying silence. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles along his cheeks twitched violently.
When the video finished, he closed the laptop with a quiet click.
“They broke your leg over company shares?” James asked, his voice shaking with a quiet, icy fury.
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“They broke my leg,” I replied, looking him in the eye, “because they think those shares are the only thing protecting them.”
James looked down at me, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. “They are very, very wrong.”
