Chapter 5 - The Sister's Distress Call
By Saturday morning, the private ward was flooded with sunlight. I was sitting up in bed, working through my first round of physical therapy with a specialized rubber resistance band, when the hospital receptionist knocked hesitantly on the open door.
“Ms. Vance? There is a young woman in the lobby demanding to see you. She’s... quite agitated. Security is standing by.”
I glanced at Vance, who was reviewing documents in the corner armchair. “Send her in,” I said. “Alone.”
Two minutes later, Madison burst into the room.
The polished, haughty glamour that usually defined my sister was completely gone. Her designer linen blouse was stained at the cuff, her blowout was unwashed and pulled into a messy ponytail, and her mascara was smudged down her pale cheeks. She didn't have her luxury handbag; she was clutching a paper folder against her ribs like a shield.
“Emily!” she cried, running toward the edge of my bed. “You have to stop this! You have to call these lawyers off right now!”
I didn't flinch. I slowly set the resistance band onto the tray table. “Keep your voice down, Madison. This is an intensive recovery ward.”
“I don't care about the ward!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Do you know what happened to me yesterday? I was at the Newport Bay Club with sixteen of my friends! We had caterers, a DJ, everything booked to christen the boat! Two county deputies marched right down the dock in front of everyone! They put an orange seizure notice across the windshield! They threatened to arrest me if I stepped past the gangway!”
“The boat was purchased with stolen military disability funds, Madison,” I said calmly. “You were boarding stolen property.”
“Dad bought it for me!” she shrieked, stamping her designer sandal against the floor. “He promised it to me for hitting twenty thousand followers on my brand page! He said it was an investment in our family’s public prestige! What does that have to do with me? Why are you punishing me for what Dad did?”
“Because when I called Dad from the clinic, begging for five thousand dollars to save my knee from permanent deformity, you took the phone,” I reminded her, each word landing like an iron hammer. “Do you remember what you told me, Madison? You told me I was ruining your special moment. You told me to pop a pill and deal with it.”
Madison froze, her lips parting as the memory flashed across her eyes. She swallowed hard, trying to shift her tone, forcing out a theatrical whimper.
“I was excited, Emily... I didn't know you were actually that hurt! You know how Dad exaggerates things! You’re my big sister. We’re supposed to stick together! Dad and Mom are at the house right now screaming at each other. Dad threw a vase through the kitchen window. Mom is taking Valium by the handful. If the bank forecloses, where am I supposed to live? How am I supposed to run my boutique?”
“You could try getting a job,” Jake’s voice cut across the room from the doorway.
Madison spun around, spotting our younger brother leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. For years, Madison had treated Jake like an unpaid servant, demanding he wash her luxury sedan, run her dry cleaning, and stay out of sight when her elite college friends visited the house.
“Jake?” she gasped. “Tell her! Tell Emily to drop the lawsuit! You live in the real world, you know how hard it is out there!”
Jake walked slowly into the center of the room, looking at Madison not with hatred, but with a deep, chilling pity.
“I sold Grandpa’s tools for eight hundred dollars to save Emily’s leg,” Jake said quietly. “You spent one hundred and fifty thousand of her medical compensation on a floating vanity project. Don't you dare come into this room and ask us for mercy.”
Madison backed away toward the door, realizing for the first time in her pampered life that her tears had zero currency here.
“You’re monsters,” she hissed, her face contorting with ugly spite. “Both of you. When Dad’s business partners hear about this, they will destroy you in court! You won't see a single dime!”
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“Actually, Ms. Vance,” Arthur Vance chimed in, adjusting his glasses from the corner, “your father’s business partners were served with federal non-party deposition notices at 8:00 AM this morning. Two of them have already dissolved their partnerships to avoid criminal liability. Your father’s company no longer exists.”
Madison turned pale as chalk, spun around on her heel, and fled down the corridor, her frantic footsteps echoing into the silence.
