Chapter 7 - The Hospital Trap
Just when I thought the storm had subsided into a predictable legal battle, my phone rang on a cold Thursday evening in January. It wasn't Marcus. It was the landline from St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital.
"Is this Ethan Miller? This is Nurse Bennett from the cardiac intensive care unit. Your father, Arthur Miller, was admitted an hour ago with acute chest pain."
My heart plummeted into my stomach. All the anger, the legal strategies, the cold determination I had built over the past two months evaporated under the sheer weight of filial instinct. Dad had a history of high blood pressure. If the stress of the business audit had caused a heart attack, I would never forgive myself.
I grabbed my keys and raced across town, breaking every speed limit on the wet interstate. My mind raced with guilt. *Was fifty thousand dollars worth my dad’s life? Did I push too hard?*
I sprinted through the automatic doors of the hospital, breathless, my jacket soaked with rain. The receptionist directed me to Room 314 on the third floor.
I burst through the door, my chest heaving. "Dad?!"
The room was quiet. Dad was sitting on the edge of the bed in a hospital gown, holding a plastic cup of apple juice. He didn't have oxygen tubes in his nose. There was no monitor beeping wildly. In fact, he looked relatively healthy, if terribly sheepish.
And sitting in the armchairs beside his bed were Mom and Uncle Ray.
"He’s fine, Ethan," Mom said smoothly, standing up and smoothing down her cardigan. "It was just acid reflux. But the doctors said stress is a major trigger."
I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the three of them.
"You lied," I whispered, the realization hitting me with sickening weight. "You had a nurse call me to stage an intervention."
"We didn't lie," Mom retorted, crossing her arms. "Arthur was in pain. The stress you're causing with your lawsuits and forced buyouts is killing him! Look at your father, Ethan! Look at what your pride is doing to this family!"
May you like
Dad looked down at his slippers, his face flushing crimson. "Ethan... we just need to talk without Marcus in the room. Please, son."
Uncle Ray stepped toward the door, blocking the exit with his wide shoulders. "Sit down, kid. We’re going to settle this family business like men tonight, once and for all."
