Chapter 2 - The Knife in the Dark
Forty-eight hours later, I was in a private recovery room at the Kerlan-Jobe Orthopedic Clinic.
The surgery had been a complete success. Dr. Harrison, a world-renowned military orthopedic surgeon retained by Marcus Vance, had repaired the torn meniscus and reinforced the lateral collateral ligament using advanced donor tissue.
"If you had waited another week," Dr. Harrison told me as he reviewed my post-operative scans, "you would have spent the rest of your life walking with a severe limp, suffering from degenerative arthritis. You got here just in time, Vivienne."
Leo sat on the visitor's couch, holding a plastic cup of water, looking overwhelmed by the marble-tiled luxury of the private suite. He still didn't know about the lottery ticket. I had told him that Vance’s law firm was representing me on a pro-bono veteran assistance grant.
"Leo," I said, sitting up in the hospital bed, the heavy black leg brace resting comfortably on a pile of pillows.
"Yeah, Viv?" he asked, looking up nervously.
"Grandpa’s tools," I said quietly. "Who did you sell them to?"
Leo looked down at his worn sneakers, his chest heaving with quiet shame. "Old man Higgins over at the industrial yard in San Pedro. He gave me eight hundred and forty bucks. I knew they were worth five grand, Viv, but... you needed the money by Thursday."
"We’re going to get them back, Leo," I promised, my voice ringing with an absolute certainty that made him look up in surprise. "Every single wrench. Every socket. And then we're going to build you the shop Grandpa always wanted you to have."
Before Leo could ask what I meant, the door to the suite opened. Marcus Vance walked in, wearing an immaculate charcoal suit, carrying a thick leather folder.
"It's done," Vance announced, closing the door behind him. "The First District Civil Court just granted our ex-parte motion. We placed a temporary freezing order on all personal bank accounts registered to Arthur and Eleanor Sterling, as well as an injunction on the registration title for the yacht The Chloe Queen."
Leo’s jaw dropped. "What? You... you froze Mom and Dad’s accounts?"
Vance turned to Leo, his expression softened by a rare touch of sympathy. "Leo, your parents committed felony embezzlement. They illegally liquidated your two-hundred-thousand-dollar trust fund to buy your sister that boat. Your sister is currently docked at the Marina del Rey yacht club, preparing for an unveiling party tonight. Or at least, she was."
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"What happens tonight?" I asked, a cold smile touching my lips.
"Tonight," Vance said, handing me a high-end tablet connected to a live surveillance feed from Marina del Rey, "the court marshals serve the seizure warrant in front of every high-society guest your mother invited."
