Chapter 3 - The Hospital Ward
The stark white ceiling of the Memorial Hospital trauma center drifted above me as the medical team rushed my gurney down the hallway. The smell of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol replaced the metallic stench of my own blood. Every tiny bump in the floor sent a blinding, white-hot knife of pain tearing through my right flank, reminding me with terrifying clarity that my own son had tried to break my spirit along with my bones.
"Trauma Bay Two!" a doctor shouted, his gloved hands moving rapidly over my chest. "Sixty-two-year-old female, victim of physical assault. Blunt force trauma to the right thoracic cage, deep facial lacerations, multiple soft-tissue contusions on both upper arms."
Within minutes, I was surrounded by a whirlwind of blue scrubs, shining lights, and the mechanical beep of heart monitors. Scissors sliced through my blood-stained blouse, exposing my torso. I heard a nurse gasp softly. I didn't need a mirror to know what she saw—a dark, sickening bloom of purple, black, and yellow bruises covering my ribs, overlapping with the older, faded marks left by Marcus’s previous attacks.
"X-ray coming through!"
They slid a cold digital plate beneath my back. I gritted my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut as the machine clicked above me.
Dr. Sarah Lin, a sharp-eyed trauma surgeon with an air of quiet authority, walked over to the viewing monitor a few moments later. Her expression was solemn as she pulled up the illuminated scans.
"You're a very lucky woman, Eleanor," Dr. Lin said gently, coming to stand by my bed and taking my hand. "Your ninth rib is fractured cleanly. It missed your right lung by mere millimeters. If the impact had been slightly higher or harder, you would be dealing with a collapsed lung and internal hemorrhaging right now."
"My children..." I choked out, the word feeling ash-like on my tongue. "They... they thought I would just give up."
"What your children did to you was barbaric," Dr. Lin replied, her voice hardening with professional rage. "I’ve already documented every single injury. The forensic nurse has photographed the bruises on your arms, your lip, and your ribcage. These records are going straight into the police file."
Before I could answer, the door to the trauma bay opened, and a tall woman in a sharp navy-blue trouser suit walked in. She carried a thick leather briefcase and moved with a brisk, unyielding confidence. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her gray eyes were sharp and focused.
"Mrs. Eleanor Vance?" she asked, stepping up to the side of my bed.
"Yes," I murmured.
"My name is Victoria Sterling," she said, extending a hand to touch mine lightly. "I am a senior prosecutor with the County District Attorney’s office, and I have been assigned personally to your case by District Attorney Harris."
I looked at her, exhausted. "Did Chief Miller send you?"
"Chief Miller sent me the raw security footage thirty minutes ago," Victoria said, setting her briefcase on a tray table. "Mrs. Vance, I have been prosecuting violent crimes for fifteen years. I have seen brutal gang violence, armed robberies, and domestic abuse. But watching a son punch his own mother while his daughter laughs and demands three million dollars... it chilled me to the bone."
"They wanted the money from my farm," I whispered, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. "They thought... they thought because I was old, I didn't matter anymore. They treated me like a slave in that house."
Victoria opened her briefcase and pulled out a stack of documents along with a digital tablet. "I want to make something very clear to you, Eleanor. Marcus and Rachel Vance are currently booked at the county jail. They are being charged with Felony Aggravated Assault, Elder Abuse, Extortion, False Imprisonment, and Forgery of a Legal Document."
I took a deep breath, the pain in my chest flaring. "Can they get out on bail?"
Victoria’s lips curved into a cold, fierce smile. "Not if I have anything to say about it. The bail hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Given the mountain of evidence—the video footage, the blood at the scene, the physical injuries, and the clear flight risk posed by three million dollars—I am petitioning the judge to hold them without bond until trial."
May you like
"They'll hire expensive lawyers," I said softly. "Marcus knows people in the city. He’ll try to spin this."
"Let them hire whoever they want," Victoria said firmly, leaning down to look me dead in the eye. "A thousand expensive lawyers cannot undo twenty minutes of crystal-clear 4K video showing your son breaking your rib while your daughter demands your life savings. We have them, Eleanor. Completely and utterly."
