Chapter 3 - The Hospital and the Paper Trail
The emergency room at St. Jude’s Hospital smelled of sterile disinfectant and rubbing alcohol. Tyler lay on a examination bed, wrapped in a warm blanket, while a pediatrician carefully examined his torso.
"The X-rays show bruised ribs, but thankfully no fractures," Dr. Vance explained softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "He’s going to be sore for a few weeks, Rebecca, but he’ll recover physically."
"And emotionally?" I asked, looking at my son, who was quietly holding Megan’s hand while she read him a comic book.
"That will take time," Dr. Vance said gently. "The police medical examiner has already photographed his injuries and your daughter's face. The reports are locked in the evidentiary system."
As Dr. Vance walked out, the door opened and my attorney, David Sterling, walked in. David was a sharp, fifty-something family law specialist with graying hair and an unflinching demeanor. He carried a thick leather briefcase.
"Rebecca," David said, stepping over to give my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I came as soon as I got the alert from your cloud server. Are the kids alright?"
"They're alive," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "David... they actually did it. They hit my kids."
"I saw the raw video feed from your phone," David said, his jaw clenching with anger. "It’s crystal clear. Your father and mother are currently held at the county precinct without bond pending their arraignment tomorrow morning."
"Good," I muttered. "I want full restraining orders. I want them far away from us."
"We'll get permanent protective orders," David assured me. "But Rebecca, while you were in the ambulance, I had my paralegal pull up something interesting. You mentioned your parents were demanding five thousand dollars a month for Natalie’s apartment?"
"Yes. They claimed she was falling behind on rent."
David opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of financial documents. "I had a hunch and ran a quick public records sweep on your parents' property assets and Natalie's commercial leases. Rebecca, your sister isn't just falling behind on rent. She hasn't paid rent in eight months."
I blinked. "Eight months? That’s forty thousand dollars!"
"Exactly," David said, turning a page. "Her landlord filed an eviction notice three weeks ago. But here's the real kick in the teeth: your parents co-signed her lease. If Natalie gets evicted, the landlord takes your parents' house as collateral."
The pieces of the puzzle began clicking together in my mind with terrifying speed.
My parents weren't trying to help Natalie live comfortably. They were terrified of losing their own home. And instead of forcing Natalie to move or taking responsibility for co-signing a lease she couldn't afford, they had tried to force me to pay off her debt under the guise of family duty.
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"They tried to beat me into saving their house," I whispered, horror settling deep in my chest.
"They tried," David corrected me with a sharp, professional smile. "But they failed. And now that criminal charges are filed, we have legal grounds to subpoena their entire financial history. They opened a war, Rebecca. Now we finish it."
