Chapter 6: The Man in the Parking Lot
Julian was already reaching for his phone.
"Miranda," he said, his voice low and controlled, "do you want me to make a call?"
"Not yet." I looked at Lauren.
"Tell Thomas to come up."
My mother frowned.
"I thought you said—"
"I want to hear what he has to say." I shifted against the pillow, ignoring the pull of the IV line.
"In this room.
In front of all of us."
Lauren typed the message.
We waited.
Thomas arrived four minutes later.
He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with the kind of groomed confidence that read well in photographs.
He'd always reminded me of a showroom — impressive from a distance, hollow when you opened the doors.
He stepped into the room and took in the scene: me in the hospital bed, Julian near the window, my parents in their chairs, Lauren standing apart from all of them.
"Miranda." He nodded at me.
"I'm glad you're okay."
"You're not here because you're glad I'm okay," I said.
"What do you have?"
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a folded sheet of paper.
He held it out toward me but didn't step closer.
"Someone reached out to me three weeks ago," he said.
"A man named Garrett Finch.
He said he was a minority stakeholder in a venture fund that holds a position in your former company."
"MedCore Solutions," I said.
"Yes." Thomas unfolded the sheet.
"He told me there's a dispute about the original sale.
He claims the valuation was manipulated before the acquisition closed and that you were aware of it."
Julian crossed the room in four steps and took the paper from Thomas's hand before I could speak.
He read it.
His expression didn't change, but his eyes moved quickly — the way they did when something required immediate attention.
"This is a letter," Julian said.
"Not a legal document.
Not a filing.
A letter from a private individual making an unsubstantiated allegation."
"He said he has documentation," Thomas said.
"Then he should file it with the appropriate regulatory body," Julian said.
"Not send it to a patient's brother-in-law the night she's in surgery."
Thomas looked at me.
"I'm not trying to threaten you, Miranda."
"Then what are you trying to do?"
He paused.
"I'm trying to make sure we all understand the situation clearly.
Before decisions get made that can't be undone."
"The decisions are already made," I said.
Something moved across his face.
Not anger — something more calculated than anger.
"Garrett Finch is prepared to go public with this," Thomas said.
"If the estate changes stand."
The room went completely silent.
My mother's hand went to her mouth.
My father stood up slowly from his chair.
"Thomas," he said.
"That's enough."
"Richard, she needs to understand—"
"I said that's enough." My father's voice was quiet but it had an edge I hadn't heard since I was a teenager.
"You drove here in the middle of the night to threaten my daughter while she's lying in a hospital bed.
Do you understand what you just did?"
Thomas straightened.
"I'm protecting my family's interests."
"Your family," my father said, "is standing right there." He pointed at Lauren.
"My daughter is lying right there.
And you just walked into her hospital room and handed her a threat."
Lauren had gone white.
"Thomas," she said.
"What is Garrett Finch?"
Thomas didn't answer her.
"Thomas." Her voice was different now.
Quieter.
"Who is Garrett Finch?"
Julian looked up from the letter.
"I'd like to know the answer to that as well."
Thomas put his hand out.
"Give me the letter back."
"No," Julian said simply.
Thomas looked at me.
The showroom confidence had cracked slightly at the edges.
"Miranda.
Be reasonable.
Nobody wants this to become something ugly."
"It already is something ugly," I said.
"You made it that the moment you walked through that door." I looked at Julian.
"Can you find out who Garrett Finch is by morning?"
"I can find out tonight," Julian said.
Thomas's hand was still extended.
"The letter stays with my lawyer," I said.
"You can go, Thomas."
He stood there for another moment.
Then he looked at Lauren — a long, measuring look that I recognized immediately.
It was the look of a man recalculating.
Lauren saw it too.
"Go wait in the car," she said softly.
He left without another word.
The door swung shut behind him.
Lauren stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the floor.
When she finally looked up, her eyes were wet.
"I didn't know he was going to do that," she said.
May you like
Nobody answered her.
And the silence was its own kind of verdict.
