Chapter 12 - The Hospital Room Reunion
While David stared at ruin in his silent house, two floors above the city streets in the hospital VIP suite, my room was filled with warmth, laughter, and the gentle ticking of a grandfather clock my father had had brought in from home.
The door opened softly, and my childhood pediatrician, Dr. Henderson—no relation to the disgraced law partner—stepped inside with a broad, reassuring smile.
“Well, young lady,” Dr. Henderson said, checking the charts at the foot of my bed. “Your vitals are pristine, the baby is recovering wonderfully from the stress, and if you keep resting the way I tell you, you’ll be heading home by New Year’s Eve.”
“Home,” I repeated the word softly, tasting it on my tongue. It felt different now. It didn't mean a suburban kitchen with cold tile and shouting matches. It meant high ceilings, old books, the smell of cedar and coffee, and a father who loved me unconditionally.
“Your father has been downstairs dealing with the legal filings,” Dr. Henderson added with a wink. “Let me tell you, watching Arthur Vance dismantle a civil defense team is better than opening presents on Christmas morning.”
“Is it over?” I asked quietly.
“The legal battle has only just begun,” Dr. Henderson said gently. “But the hard part—the part where you were alone—is over for good. You’re never going back to that house, Anna. Not for a single minute.”
When the doctor left, my father walked back in, holding a steaming mug of tea and a small, neatly folded newspaper clipping. He sat down beside me, laying the clipping on the tray table.
It was a small blurb in the legal journal section: Sterling & Hayes Announces Immediate Departure of Junior Partner David Sterling Amid Bar Disciplinary Review.
“They didn't even wait for the formal hearing,” I noted, skimming the lines.
“Cowards rarely do,” my father replied calmly, taking a sip of his own coffee. “When pressure mounts, corporate loyalties dissolve instantly. David is finding out what it means to stand alone in a room without a title to protect him.”
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“Do you think he regrets it?” I asked, looking out at the snow-covered rooftops.
“Regrets getting caught? Absolutely,” my father said, his voice steady. “Regrets what he did? Never. Men like David don't feel remorse for cruelty, Anna. They only feel aggrieved when the bill comes due.”
