Chapter 5 - THE FAMILY THAT WANTED A FUNERAL
For three terrifying minutes, I thought Grant Sterling was dying in front of me.
His monitor kept alarming.
Dr. Reid moved quickly, checking his breathing and vital signs while giving clear instructions to the emergency dispatcher.
Barragan attempted to approach the bed again.
"Stay back," she ordered.
"I am his physician."
"Then you should understand why I'm concerned."
Julian stood near the window, his face pale beneath the expensive tan he wore like another piece of designer clothing.
He said nothing.
That frightened me more than his anger.
Men like Julian always had something to say.
Unless they were watching a plan unfold.
The paramedics arrived shortly afterward. Dr. Reid explained the situation, including Grant's unexpected responsiveness and the serious concerns surrounding his medications.
One of the paramedics prepared the transport equipment.
Julian stepped into his path.
"I'm his legally designated representative. I haven't authorized a transfer."
Evelyn moved beside him.
"Get out of the way."
"This is private family business."
"No," she replied. "This is a medical emergency."
For a second, they stood face-to-face.
Then the paramedic spoke.
"Sir, we need room to work."
Julian finally stepped aside.
As they prepared to move Grant, I leaned close.
"You're not alone," I whispered.
His eyes found mine.
Then they shifted toward Leo.
I understood.
"He's safe. I promise."
A single tear slid down Grant's cheek.
The last thing I saw before they wheeled him away was his hand reaching weakly toward the edge of the blanket.
The same hand that had awakened when my baby touched him.
I wanted to follow the ambulance, but Evelyn stopped me.
"Mariana, listen carefully. You need to protect Leo."
"What about Grant?"
"I'll go with him. Frances is following."
"I should be there."
"You will be. But not until you're somewhere Julian can't reach your son."
She placed both hands on my shoulders.
"Grant is fighting for his life. We cannot give Julian another weapon."
I looked at Leo.
He was awake now, watching the lights with innocent curiosity.
I hated that Evelyn was right.
So I allowed her driver, a quiet former police officer named Marcus Bell, to take us to a guesthouse on the other side of Los Angeles.
Rosa joined us, carrying one suitcase and a small stuffed elephant.
She had resigned after Julian accused her of violating household rules.
"Twenty-three years," she muttered as we drove through the gates. "And that man didn't even say goodbye."
I reached for her hand.
"You're doing the right thing."
She looked at Leo.
"I hope so."
The guesthouse stood behind a modest white residence near the foothills, nothing like the Sterling estate. There was a small kitchen, a living room, and two bedrooms.
For the first time in days, I felt I could close a door without wondering who was standing behind it.
But safety didn't bring peace.
Not while Grant was fighting to survive.
At the hospital, Dr. Reid arranged for an independent specialist to assess his condition.
His blood was tested.
His previous scans were reviewed.
The medical team closely monitored his breathing and neurological responses.
By sunrise, Grant was stable.
But the news Evelyn brought was worse than I expected.
"Julian has hired attorneys," she said over the phone. "He's trying to establish that Grant lacks decision-making capacity and that only he can authorize treatment."
"Can he do that?"
"He's claiming he already has the proper documents."
"Does he?"
"We're investigating."
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"What happens if he wins?"
Evelyn didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, "He could attempt to move Grant back under the care of Dr. Barragan."
My stomach twisted.
We had barely rescued Grant.
And Julian was already trying to reclaim him.
That afternoon, Evelyn introduced me to Naomi Park, a probate and business litigation attorney with a reputation for taking cases other lawyers considered too dangerous.
Naomi had short black hair, sharp eyes, and a direct way of speaking.
She arrived carrying a laptop and a thick folder.
"I need you to tell me everything," she said.
So I did.
I explained the first movement of Grant's fingers, the warning, the unusual medication, Natalie's notebook, and the photographs.
Naomi listened carefully.
When I finished, she closed the folder.
"Do you understand what Julian is likely to do next?"
"Try to get Grant back?"
"Yes. And discredit you."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the person who noticed he was conscious."
She leaned forward.
"You're a single mother employed by a wealthy patient. Julian's lawyers will try to portray you as someone exploiting a vulnerable man for financial gain."
I stared at her.
"That's ridiculous."
"It is. That doesn't mean it won't work with people who don't know the facts."
I glanced toward Leo, playing on the rug.
"I don't want his money."
"Then don't let anyone make this about money. Keep copies of every message. Don't contact the media. And don't meet Julian alone."
I nodded.
Naomi handed me her card.
"If anyone threatens you, call me immediately."
That evening, Julian's first move arrived.
A formal email informed me that my employment had been terminated for misconduct.
My remaining wages would be withheld pending investigation.
The message accused me of entering restricted rooms, taking confidential documents, and interfering with medical care.
I stared at the screen.
Forty-three dollars in my account had become twenty-six after buying diapers.
Now I had no job.
No permanent home.
And no idea how I would support my son.
For one humiliating moment, I wanted to cry.
Instead, I opened my laptop and began saving the email.
Naomi was right.
Everything mattered.
Two hours later, Evelyn called again.
"I have some good news."
I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.
"Grant?"
"He's awake. He's stable enough to answer questions."
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
"And the medication?"
"The hospital found serious discrepancies between the treatment records and the drugs documented in his bloodstream."
"Does that prove someone poisoned him?"
"Not by itself. But it gives us grounds to investigate whether he was improperly medicated."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time, I could imagine Grant leaving that hospital alive.
Then Evelyn's voice changed.
"Mariana, there's something else."
"What?"
"Grant asked for you."
I couldn't speak.
"He asked whether Leo was safe," she continued. "And then he asked for the woman who saved him."
Tears blurred my vision.
"He actually said that?"
"Not clearly. He's still very weak. But Frances understood him."
I sat down slowly.
No employer had ever spoken about me that way.
No wealthy stranger had ever treated my presence as something worth remembering.
I had spent so long feeling invisible that the simple words nearly broke me.
The following morning, Naomi drove me to the hospital through a private entrance.
Two security officers stood outside Grant's room.
Inside, he lay propped against white pillows, a breathing support system nearby, his face still pale.
But his eyes were open.
Fully open.
He saw me.
And for the first time, I saw a real smile.
It was small.
Uneven.
Beautiful.
"Mariana," he whispered.
I laughed through sudden tears.
"You're getting pretty good at that."
He lifted his hand a fraction.
I took it.
"Leo?"
"Safe. Eating everything in sight."
Grant's smile widened.
Then his expression turned serious.
"Trust... Evelyn."
"I do."
"Trust... Naomi."
"I do."
He swallowed.
"Don't... trust..."
The door opened.
A hospital administrator entered, accompanied by a man carrying legal documents.
"Mr. Sterling," the administrator said, "we've received an urgent petition concerning your medical decision-making authority."
Naomi stepped forward.
"From whom?"
The man looked at his papers.
"Julian Sterling."
Grant's face hardened.
The administrator continued.
"Mr. Sterling's representatives are also requesting confirmation of the documents governing his estate."
Naomi took the papers.
I watched her read the first page.
Then the second.
Her expression changed.
"That's impossible," she whispered.
"What?" Evelyn asked.
Naomi looked toward Grant.
"Julian isn't just trying to control the company."
She held up the document.
"He's filed a revised will."
I felt my stomach drop.
Naomi continued.
"According to this, Grant signed away almost his entire estate six weeks ago."
Six weeks ago.
When he supposedly couldn't move.
May you like
Couldn't speak.
And couldn't even hold a pen.
