Chapter 7 - The Telegram from HellIt happened on a crisp Tuesday morning in May.
Adrian was at his newly established local office, reviewing grants for the clinic, when his phone rang. It wasn't an assistant. It was a private number he had blocked years ago.
He answered it anyway, a cold dread pooling in his stomach.
"Adrian," Eleanor Holloway’s voice purred through the receiver—older now, slightly raspy, but carrying the exact same chilling authority. "I hear you’ve buried yourself in some dreary working-class town in Ohio. How... picturesque."
"How did you get this number?" Adrian snarled, standing up so fast his chair crashed backward. "If you ever call this line again, I swear to God—"
"Save your theatrics, darling," Eleanor interrupted smoothly. "You think you can strip me of my shares? You think you can cut me out of the family trust and hide out with a charity doctor and her bastard child?"
Adrian’s vision went red. "Don't you ever talk about them like that!"
"Oh, but I can," Eleanor continued, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper. "And I will. Did you really think I wouldn't protect the Holloway name? Legal papers have already been filed in the Cook County Family Court. Grandparent rights, emergency custody petitions, DNA injunctions. We are going to take that boy, Adrian. And if your little girlfriend tries to fight us, we will strip her medical license so fast she won't even have time to pack her scrubs."
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The phone went dead with a sharp click.
Adrian stood frozen in the center of his office, the blood draining completely from his face.
