Chapter 9 - The Hospital Room Confrontation
On Sunday morning, Michael lay in a private room on the top floor of San Diego Memorial Hospital. His right knee was heavily bandaged, two of his ribs were fractured, and an IV line was feeding him painkillers. Dana Brooks stood guard at the door, while Mateo and Rafael sat in chairs beside the bed.
The door burst open, and Daniel Mercer walked in, flanked by two junior attorneys. He carried a brown leather briefcase and wore a look of intense worry.
"Michael! Thank God you're alive!" Mercer exclaimed, stepping toward the bed. "I came as soon as I heard about this tragic accident at sea."
Michael looked at his long-time legal advisor with eyes as cold as ice. "It was no accident, Daniel."
"The trauma of the fall must have been terrifying, Michael," Mercer said smoothly, pulling a stack of legal documents from his briefcase. "Julianna is in police custody, completely hysterical over these insane allegations. I brought the emergency documents to temporarily transfer voting control to the executive board so the markets don't panic on Monday."
Mateo stood up from his chair, pointing directly at the lawyer. "He's the man from the bench! That's Daniel Mercer! He told her to do it!"
Mercer looked down at Mateo with supreme disdain. "Who allowed this child in here? Michael, you surely aren't taking the word of an ice cream vendor's son over your primary counsel?"
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"He didn't guess your name, Daniel," Michael said softly, his voice trembling with anger. "He knew the exact dollar amount of my insurance policy—one hundred and eighty million dollars. He knew about the draft trust amendment I hadn't even shown my children yet. The only people who possessed those files were me, Julianna, and you."
Mercer's fake smile vanished completely, replaced by a dark, dangerous glare.
