Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY HOSPITAL BED
Three days later, Fiona Vance arrived at St. Matthew’s Hospital carrying flowers.
Not for me.
For the photographs.
She wore a cream wool coat, pearl earrings, and the satisfied expression of a woman visiting an enemy who had finally learned her place.
Arthur walked beside her.
Flynn followed several steps behind, scrolling through his phone as though visiting his injured wife were an inconvenience squeezed between meetings.
“Try to look concerned,” Fiona whispered.
Flynn glanced up.
“Why?”
“There are cameras near the entrance.”
He immediately put the phone away.
Arthur snorted.
“This whole thing is ridiculous. She’ll sign eventually.”
Fiona smiled.
“She will when she realizes she has nowhere else to go.”
They stepped into the elevator.
Flynn had not visited me since the night after I was admitted.
He had sent two messages.
The first read:
Think carefully about your future.
The second:
My attorney says the transfer can still be handled privately.
I had answered neither.
That silence had made them confident.
They believed I was frightened.
They believed I was trapped in a hospital bed with a broken leg, no phone, no transportation, and nowhere to go except back to the house where they had attacked me.
They believed pain had made me weak.
That was their first mistake.
When the elevator opened onto the orthopedic floor, Fiona adjusted the flowers.
“Let me speak first.”
Arthur laughed.
“You always do.”
They walked toward Room 418.
Flynn slowed.
The door was open.
The bed was empty.
Not merely empty.
Stripped.
No water cup.
No flowers.
No personal belongings.
No medical equipment.
Nothing.
Fiona stopped.
“Where is she?”
A nurse looked up from the station.
“Can I help you?”
“My daughter-in-law was in that room.”
The nurse checked the screen.
“Name?”
“Mabel Vance.”
The nurse’s expression changed slightly.
“One moment.”
She disappeared behind a door.
Arthur frowned.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Flynn walked inside the room.
“Mabel?”
Silence.
He checked the bathroom.
Empty.
“Did she transfer hospitals?” Fiona demanded.
“She couldn’t even walk.”
Flynn looked toward the nurse’s station.
Something cold moved through his stomach.
For two days, his attorney had been trying to determine whether Mabel had filed anything with the police.
Nothing appeared.
No criminal complaint.
No restraining order.
No lawsuit.
No public accusation.
That should have reassured him.
Instead, it bothered him.
Mabel had never been passive.
Even during the early years of Vance Global, when investors dismissed her because Flynn was the charismatic one, she had always been three moves ahead.
Flynn remembered something she used to say during negotiations.
People become dangerous when they think they’ve already won.
He had laughed at the time.
Now he remembered it differently.
A physician approached.
Dr. Elena Alvarez.
Flynn recognized her from the first night.
“Where’s my wife?”
Dr. Alvarez studied the three of them.
“You’re Mr. Vance?”
“Yes.”
“And these are?”
“My parents.”
Fiona stepped forward.
“We’ve come to take Mabel home.”
Dr. Alvarez’s expression did not change.
“That won’t be possible.”
Arthur frowned.
“Why not?”
Fiona’s smile tightened.
“Doctor, where exactly is my daughter-in-law?”
The physician looked directly at Flynn.
Then she said the six words that erased the color from his face.
“She left with the federal marshals.”
Silence.
Fiona’s flowers slipped from her fingers.
Arthur staggered backward.
Flynn stared.
“What?”
Dr. Alvarez walked away.
Flynn followed.
“Federal marshals?”
She stopped.
“I cannot discuss a patient’s medical information without authorization.”
“I’m her husband.”
“That does not authorize me to disclose her location.”
“Why would federal marshals take my wife?”
Dr. Alvarez held his gaze.
“I suggest you ask your attorney.”
Arthur suddenly grabbed the wall.
“Dad?”
His knees buckled.
A nurse rushed over.
Fiona screamed.
For several seconds, the hallway became chaos.
Arthur had not suffered a heart attack.
It was a panic-induced collapse.
He was awake within minutes.
Unfortunately for him, panic was only beginning.
Flynn dragged Fiona into a waiting area.
“What did you do?”
Her face hardened.
“What did I do?”
“Federal marshals don’t move people because of a family argument.”
Arthur hissed from the wheelchair a nurse had forced him into.
“Keep your voice down.”
Flynn leaned toward his father.
“Tell me there isn’t something I don’t know.”
Neither parent answered.
Flynn’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
Fiona looked at Arthur.
Arthur looked away.
“Dad.”
“It was handled.”
“What was handled?”
“The accounts.”
Flynn became very still.
“What accounts?”
Arthur stared at him.
“You knew about some of it.”
“I knew you moved money through vendor rebates.”
Arthur lowered his voice.
“It was more complicated.”
“How much more complicated?”
Fiona interrupted.
“We shouldn’t discuss this here.”
Flynn turned on her.
“How much?”
She said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Flynn pulled out his phone.
He called the chief financial officer of Vance Global Logistics.
Voicemail.
He called again.
Nothing.
Then his assistant.
“Celia, where’s Marcus?”
There was hesitation.
“Mr. Chen left the building this morning.”
“Why?”
“With federal investigators.”
Flynn stopped breathing.
“What?”
“They arrived around eight.”
His grip tightened.
“What investigators?”
“I don’t know. There were people from the Department of Justice and some financial agency.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Flynn lowered the phone.
The hallway suddenly felt much colder.
Then another call arrived.
Board member Elaine Crawford.
Flynn answered.
“Elaine.”
Her voice was sharp.
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“Get to headquarters.”
“Why?”
“The board has been called into emergency session.”
“By whom?”
There was a pause.
“Mabel.”
Flynn laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s already underway.”
“My wife is in a hospital bed.”
“No, Flynn.”
Elaine’s voice became colder.
“Apparently your wife was the only person in this company who knew exactly where she needed to be.”
The line went dead.
Flynn stared at his phone.
Fiona whispered,
“She can’t remove you.”
He looked at her.
“I’m CEO.”
Arthur nodded rapidly.
“You control the company.”
Flynn said nothing.
Because suddenly, for the first time in seven years, he remembered the exact wording of Vance Global’s original shareholder agreement.
Not the economic shares.
The voting shares.
Mabel owned forty percent of the company’s equity.
But when she invested her inheritance seven years earlier, her attorney had insisted that her founder shares carry enhanced voting rights until her original capital contribution had been repaid through distributions.
Flynn had always assumed the provision no longer mattered.
He had never bothered checking whether the repayment threshold had actually been reached.
He called company counsel.
“Harold.”
“Flynn.”
“Can Mabel call an emergency board session without me?”
Silence.
“Harold.”
“Yes.”
His mouth went dry.
“Can she remove me?”
Another pause.
“If certain protective provisions are triggered.”
“What provisions?”
“Fraud.”
Flynn looked at Arthur.
“Violence against another shareholder.”
He looked at Fiona.
“Coercion involving company securities.”
Flynn’s pulse hammered.
“Who wrote those provisions?”
Harold answered quietly.
“Mabel did.”
The call ended.
At that exact moment, three floors above them, an FBI financial crimes agent entered Arthur’s temporary treatment room.
“Arthur Vance?”
Arthur stared at the badge.
“Yes?”
The agent held out an envelope.
“You’ve been served with a federal preservation order.”
Fiona stepped between them.
“For what?”
The agent looked at her.
“Financial records.”
Then he handed her another envelope.
“And this one is yours.”
Flynn felt the walls closing around him.
His phone buzzed again.
This time it was a message from an unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
It showed me.
Sitting upright in a wheelchair.
My broken leg in a brace.
Phoebe standing behind me.
A laptop open in front of us.
On the wall behind me was the Vance Global logo.
Below the photograph were four words.
EMERGENCY BOARD SESSION. 2:00.
Flynn stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
This one came directly from me.
You should attend.
May you like
For the first time since my leg broke, my husband stopped smiling.
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