Chapter 4 - The Threat in the BoardroomBy 10:00 AM the following morning, the administrative offices of Mount Sinai underwent a dramatic, high-level transformation.
Dr. Vance confirmed that with the new five-million-dollar trust established by Kieran, Clara was immediately assigned to an international bone marrow match priority list, backed by top specialists from Johns Hopkins and Boston Children's Hospital.
However, as Kieran and I sat inside the private executive suite on the fifth floor reviewing Clara's treatment schedule, the door was thrown open.
Walking into the room, flanked by two high-priced litigators, was Richard Vance—the corrupt administrator of Mount Sinai’s financial board, and a man who secretly operated secondary healthcare fraud schemes for a rival syndicate led by Marcus Moretti.
"Mr. Blackwood," Richard Vance spoke coldly, holding a stack of legal documents. "I see you've cleared the billing arrears for the Torres child. However, under our secondary board policies, non-family members cannot establish medical trusts for minors without primary guardian authorization."
I stood up from my chair, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "I am her mother, Mr. Vance! I gave full authorization!"
"You gave authorization, Miss Torres," Vance sneered condescendingly, looking at my simple clothes with disdain. "But the child's biological father—who owes three hundred thousand dollars in secondary debt to the Moretti family—signed over his parental rights to Marcus Moretti’s legal group two hours ago. Moretti is demanding immediate transfer of the child to a secondary facility in Brooklyn."
My blood turned to ice. My stomach churned with pure, sickening horror.
Clara's biological father—a selfish, abusive gambler who had abandoned us three years ago—had sold his legal parental rights to Kieran's arch-rival just to erase his own gambling debts.
"Moretti thinks he can use my daughter as leverage against you, Kieran!" I gasped, panic seizing my throat.
Kieran didn't jump up. He didn't draw a weapon.
He slowly stood up from his leather armchair, his tall, broad frame casting a long, suffocating shadow across the executive desk.
The atmosphere inside the room plummeted into an apocalyptic, freezing cold that made Richard Vance's two attorneys take a fast, instinctive step backward.
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Kieran walked up to Richard Vance, stopping two inches from his face.
"Richard," Kieran spoke. His voice was dangerously quiet, carrying a razor-sharp, lethal authority that made the administrator's hands tremble. "Tell Marcus Moretti that if he mentions my daughter's name again... he won't survive until sunset."
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