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Evelyn’s fingers tapped rapidly against her scrub pocket, her expression locked in grim determination. The air inside the cramped storage closet smelled faintly of industrial detergent and powdered baby formula, a sterile scent that did little to calm the rising panic clawing at my throat. / Chapter 11 / 20

Chapter 11 - The Subpoena Reaches the Estate

The heavy oak doors of the Vale family manor felt more like a prison gate than an entrance when federal marshals served the grand jury subpoenas. Margaret Vale stood in her sprawling marble foyer, her fingers digging into the silk fabric of her designer blouse as she read the bold print demanding her immediate financial and electronic records. The illusion of untouchable corporate power was evaporating faster than morning mist. Her son, Adrian, sat slumped at the mahogany dining table three rooms away, his phone buzzing incessantly with text messages from his panic-stricken business partners and real estate investors. The media had finally caught wind of the St. Jude Memorial cover-up, and the public backlash was absolute.

"Call our lead counsel," Adrian muttered, his voice hollow and cracked. "Tell him to find a way to delay the deposition."

"There is no delaying this, Adrian," Margaret snapped back, her voice losing its usual icy composure as genuine panic gripped her chest. "They have digital forensic copies of the hospital’s admission logs. They know about the forged behavioral health consultation. If we don’t settle out of court with Mara immediately, the federal prosecutor is going to indict us for conspiracy and healthcare fraud."

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