Chapter 3 - THE BLACK MARKET CLINIC
Two hours later, after a fiery preliminary hearing that left the defense reeling, Ethan was in the back of Marcus’s armored SUV, speeding through the outer boroughs of New York.
"I managed to trace the burner phone that sent you the threat," Marcus said, keeping his eyes on the rain-slicked road. "It bounced off a tower near an abandoned industrial park in Queens. But that’s not all, Ethan. I ran a deep background check on Julianne Vance. The news reports were wrong. She didn't abandon Emily. Julianne passed away six months ago from a degenerative neurological condition."
Ethan felt a physical blow to his chest. Julianne was dead.
"Before she died," Marcus continued gently, "she was developing a highly experimental gene therapy at Vance Pharmaceuticals. The patent for that therapy is worth billions. It’s the exact patent that Apex Corp is trying to steal in the lawsuit you're handling."
"And Emily?" Ethan asked, his voice tight.
"Emily inherited the condition from her mother. She’s sick, Ethan. But she’s also the sole legal heir to Julianne’s multi-billion-dollar medical patents. Arthur Vance doesn't want to save his granddaughter. He wants custody of her so he can sign the patents over to his own company before she passes away, cutting out any independent oversight."
Ethan’s grip on the leather seat was so tight his knuckles turned white. Arthur Vance wasn't just trying to win a corporate lawsuit; he was letting his own granddaughter die in an alley to secure a corporate monopoly. Emily must have escaped from Arthur’s handlers, seeking out the one person her mother’s old journals told her could fight anyone: her father.
The SUV screeched to a halt in front of a heavily guarded, unmarked brick medical facility on the edge of the Queens waterfront. Two private security guards stood outside the iron gates, their hands resting ominously near their jackets.
"We don't have a warrant, Ethan," Marcus warned, drawing his own weapon. "If we go in there like this, it’s illegal entry. They can destroy you professionally."
"Let them try," Ethan said, throwing the door open.
He didn't wait for Marcus. He walked straight up to the iron gate. One of the guards stepped forward, his hand moving to his holster. "Private property. Turn around."
Ethan didn't speak. He slammed his briefcase directly into the guard’s face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch. Before the second guard could react, Marcus stepped out of the shadows, slamming the man against the brick wall and disarming him in a fluid, practiced motion.
Ethan kicked open the heavy security doors, stepping into a pristine, white-tiled medical ward that smelled heavily of bleach and ozone. Alarms began to blare overhead, a pulsing red light casting eerie shadows down the long corridor.
"Emily!" Ethan shouted, his voice echoing above the siren. "Emily!"
At the end of the hall, a heavy steel door marked Research Suite A clicked shut. Ethan sprinted down the corridor, throwing his body against the reinforced glass window.
Inside, Emily was lying on a medical gurney, pale and hooked up to a complex array of monitors. Standing over her, holding a syringe filled with a clear liquid, was a doctor in a white lab coat. Next to him stood Victor Cross, Arthur Vance’s lead attorney.
"Stop!" Ethan yelled, cracking his fist against the bulletproof glass.
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Victor Cross looked up, a cold, triumphant smirk spreading across his face. He picked up a microphone connected to the hallway speakers. "Too late, Mr. Walker. You walked right into our trap. By entering this facility unlawfully, you've committed a felony. And as for the girl? She's just signing her rights away. Or rather, we're doing it for her."
The doctor raised the syringe toward Emily’s IV line.
