Chapter 2 - The Lazarus ProtocolThe antiseptic smell of the private recovery room in northern Wisconsin was a stark contrast to the stagnant, weed-choked water of the northern Michigan lake.
I sat upright in the adjustable hospital bed, my left wrist wrapped in sterile gauze where the old nylon mooring rope had torn deep into my flesh during the fall. My skin was still pale, and the phantom sensation of freezing water suffocating my lungs lingered in my chest, but my eyes were sharper and colder than they had ever been in my life.
Attorney Mara Chen stood by the window, the morning sunlight glinting off her designer frames as she flipped through a stack of certified legal documents.
“The dead-man provision executed perfectly,” Mara said, her voice a calm, professional hum. “The moment forty-eight hours passed without your digital check-in to my office server, the independent litigation trust triggered. Wren Holdings’ corporate accounts were slapped with an emergency federal audit yesterday morning.”
I swung my legs over the side of the hospital bed, testing my balance.
“And my father and Grant?” I asked, my voice steady.
“They are playing the part of the grieving, devastated family to absolute perfection,” Mara replied, a bitter smile touching her lips. “Grant gave an emotional press conference on local television yesterday, choking back fake tears, claiming you suffered a severe mental breakdown after business stress and walked into the lake of your own accord. The police have officially categorized it as a probable drowning.”
I let out a harsh, humorless laugh.
“They think they’ve buried every problem,” I whispered, sliding my feet into the slippers Mara had brought. “They think my thirty-two percent voting trust is already theirs to carve up and distribute.”
“Not quite,” Mara said, sliding a polished leather portfolio across the bedside table. “Because your body hasn't been recovered, your shares are currently held in a legal limbo estate. However, Grant scheduled an emergency board meeting for six weeks from today to vote on an emergency liquidation of company assets to clear their hidden debts.”
May you like
I opened the portfolio. Inside were exact copies of the forged corporate resolutions Grant had drafted, along with the bank statements showing millions funneled into his offshore accounts.
“Six weeks,” I murmured, running my thumb over the edge of the paper. “That’s all the time they need to hang themselves.”
