Chapter 5 - The Medical Record
The words hit Damon like a bullet to the chest, but his face remained an impenetrable mask of stone. He did not let a fraction of his boiling rage show in front of Maya.
“Secure the evidence,” Damon commanded in a razor-sharp tone into the encrypted receiver. “Lock down the coroner who signed the certificate. If a single sheet of paper goes missing, you answer to me.”
He hung up, slipping the device back into his pocket. He turned to Maya, forcing the tension out of his eyes, his expression returning to that of a gentle elder brother. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Tonight, you sleep in your old bedroom.”
Thirty minutes later, the grand master suite of Crestview Manor was warm and silent, a stark contrast to the storm outside. Maya had showered and changed into fresh, warm fleece clothes. Her face was pale, exhausted, but the look in her eyes was one of surreal disbelief. She walked through the spacious bedroom, touching the wooden vanity her mother had painted years ago.
“I thought it was all gone, Damon,” Maya whispered, her hands shaking slightly. “When you left, Aunt Evelyn told me you died in an overseas riot. They forced me to sign wage waivers. They treated me like a stray dog in my own house.”
Damon walked up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Aunt Evelyn will pay for every tear you shed, Maya. I promise you.”
A knock sounded at the double mahogany doors. Damon’s right-hand man, Raymond—a six-foot-four veteran dressed in a sharp charcoal suit—stepped into the room holding a black leather folder.
Raymond bowed slightly toward Maya before looking at Damon. “Chairman, we have the preliminary forensic review. The medical records from Central City Hospital were falsified. Five years ago, Dr. Julian Hayes administered high doses of potassium chloride disguised as beta-blockers.”
Maya gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth. “What? Dad... Dad was murdered?”
Damon took the folder, his eyes scanning the yellowed lab results. The signature at the bottom was clear and legible: Dr. Julian Hayes, Head of Cardiology.
“Julian Hayes,” Damon murmured, his voice laced with venomous calm. “Richard’s personal physician.”
“Where is he now?” Damon asked Raymond without looking up.
“He is currently celebrating at the Grand Dynasty Hotel downtown,” Raymond answered grimly. “He was just appointed Dean of Central Medical University, funded directly by the Vance family foundation.”
Damon closed the folder with a sharp snap. “Maya, rest here. Raymond has fifty elite guards surrounding the manor. You are safe.”
Maya grabbed Damon’s arm, terror in her hazel eyes. “Damon, please don’t kill anyone. Don’t ruin your life for revenge!”
May you like
Damon looked at his sister with eyes that had seen warzones and corporate battlefields drenched in blood. “Death is too easy a mercy for them, Maya. I am going to make them wish they were never born.”
He turned and strode out of the room, leaving the leather folder open on the table. A tiny sticky note fluttered from the back page—an unlisted bank account transfer of two million dollars, authorized not by Richard Vance, but by someone called The Phoenix Clan.
