The Prenup Evaluation That Ended Five Years Chapter 05

Gavin gripped my wrist.

His fingers dug in hard enough to leave marks.

Elliot’s voice came through the speaker. “Done. Five minutes.”

The call ended.

Gavin shoved the liability waiver in my face.

“Who was that? You think some knight in shining armor is going to show up and fix this?”

He ripped the phone out of my hand and hurled it at the floor.

The screen exploded, scattering glass across the tile to the base of the nurses’ station.

“Do I have to spell this out for you, Tessa?”

“Your mother is in there right now, waiting on money to stay alive!”

“Swallow your pride and sign. I’ll wire the money to the hospital the second it’s done.”

“Is that what you want? To let your mother die over this?”

The trauma bay doors flew open again.

A nurse rushed out clutching a stack of forms, sweat beading at her hairline.

“This is the last warning for the Vale family! The neurosurgeon is threatening to leave!”

“Her blood pressure is dropping!”

“He will not scrub in without the retainer cleared! We cannot start the emergency procedure!”

I wrenched my hand free from Gavin and went straight to the nurse.

“Take my blood. I’m type O.”

The nurse shook her head.

“That’s not how it works. We don’t do direct transfusions on the floor, and the specialist won’t operate for free. You need to clear that payment. Now.”

Gavin stood two steps away, hands in his pockets.

“Nurse, hold on a second.”

“My fiancée’s throwing a fit.”

“She signs this, and I’ll pay everything. Right here, right now.”

He held the pen up to my face.

“Sign.”

A rush of footsteps came from the elevator bank.

The metal doors slid open.

Elliot stepped out.

His long black coat cut the air behind him.

Six men in white coats followed close behind.

The lead surgeon wore a badge from Northbridge University Medical Center.

Elliot walked to the nurses’ station.

He set a black metal card on the marble counter.

“I’m Elliot Whitmore.”

“Every medical expense for the patient in that room goes to the Whitmore Foundation account. No limit.”

“I want her emergency care fully cleared and moving within three minutes.”

The hospital Chief Administrator came scrambling down from the stairwell, seven or eight department heads on his heels.

One of them picked up the black card from the counter, glanced at it, and went pale.

The Administrator turned to the nurse.

“Activate the VIP trauma protocol. Get ten units of type O up from the blood bank. Now.”

The six Northbridge specialists pushed through the emergency room doors and disappeared inside.

The hallway went still.

Gavin took half a step back.

He looked Elliot up and down.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You think flashing a card makes you somebody?”

“Real cute, Tessa. You drag some random guy in here to play hero and think that’s going to make me cave?”

He jabbed a finger in Elliot’s face.

“I’m warning you. This is between me and her. Back off.”

Elliot shifted half a step to the side.

Two bodyguards in black suits stepped forward from behind him.

One of them caught Gavin’s pointing finger and bent it back.

The joint popped with a sharp, wet crack.

Gavin screamed. His knees buckled.

The second guard palmed the back of Gavin’s head and drove him face-first into a hallway bench.

His cheek ground against the cold metal seat.

“What are you doing?”

“Get off me!”

Gavin thrashed against the bench.

Elliot glanced at his assistant.

The assistant pulled a thick envelope from his briefcase, walked over, and dropped it at Gavin’s feet.

The flap fell open. Several letter-sized documents slid out, each stamped with a corporate seal.

Elliot looked down at him.

“That thirteen thousand you were so proud of.”

“It wouldn’t cover the licensing fee on a single sketch she designed for my company.”

“From this moment on, she is the future of the Whitmore name.”

“Raise your voice at her one more time, and I’ll teach you what it means to be outclassed.”

I looked down and pulled a disinfecting wipe from the dispenser on the counter.

One by one, I wiped every finger he’d touched.

Then I dropped the wipe into the medical waste bin.

I walked toward Elliot.

“Mr. Whitmore. Let’s go.”

I didn’t look back at the man on the bench.

The bodyguards let him go.

Gavin pulled himself off the bench.

He yelled after me. “Tessa!”

“You walk out that door, and you’re dead to every Mercer alive. You hear me?”

I didn’t stop.

The surgical status board above the desk updated. My mother’s name blinked, then shifted to a bright green ‘IN SURGERY’.

My heels clicked against the hallway tile.

The automatic doors parted, and a gust of cold air hit my face.