Chapter 153:
“My uncle is emotional,” Vivian cut in. “And Atticus is young. They are grasping at straws. If this girl touches her and she dies, the hospital will be sued into oblivion. I will make sure of it.”
Shaw paled. The threat was real. The Kensington legal team was a weapon of mass destruction.
“I can enforce strict protocols,” Shaw stammered. “No non-staff allowed in the ICU without board approval. It takes hours to process.”
“Do it,” Vivian ordered. She pulled out her phone. “And I’ll call security. We need to make sure the Phoenix doesn’t even get out of the elevator.”
High above the city, the blades of the private helicopter sliced through the rain. Aurora sat in the back, her case clutched on her lap. She looked down at the grid of lights. The city looked like a circuit board. A broken system waiting to be rewired.
The helicopter banked, descending toward the helipad of Mount Sinai.
Atticus paced the hallway of the VIP wing. He checked his watch every thirty seconds. Eleven hours left.
“She’s landing,” Harper said, looking at her phone.
“Let’s go,” Atticus said. He started toward the elevators.
Edward sat with his head in his hands, muttering a prayer he hadn’t used in decades.
Eleanor leaned over to Vivian. “What if she succeeds?” she whispered. “What if the old woman wakes up and changes the trust?”
“She won’t,” Vivian replied, her eyes cold. “She won’t even get through the door.”
On the roof, the wind was a physical assault. Aurora stepped out of the chopper, her coat whipping around her legs. Two security guards, burly men with earpieces, stepped in front of the access door. They crossed their arms.
“Ms. Vance?” one of them shouted over the roar of the rotors. “This is a restricted area. We have orders to deny access.”
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Aurora stopped. She didn’t shout. She didn’t plead. She looked at them with eyes that were colder than the rain.
“Call Atticus Kensington,” she said.
“Mrs. Vivian Kensington gave strict orders,” the guard said, smirking slightly. “No unauthorized personnel. Turn around.”
Aurora nodded slowly. A power play. Of course.
She didn’t argue. She pulled out her phone. Her fingers danced across the screen. She wasn’t calling Atticus. She was opening a backdoor terminal she had coded years ago for a hospital network vulnerability test—a test they had failed.
She accessed the building’s PA system.
Inside the ICU waiting room, the silence was shattered.
SCREECH.
“CODE BLUE. OBSTRUCTION ON ROOF ACCESS. SECURITY OVERRIDE INITIATED.”
The robotic voice boomed through the speakers, repeating the message.
Atticus froze. He looked at Vivian. Her face was a mask of shock.
“You blocked her,” Atticus realized. The rage that filled him was hot and white.
He didn’t wait for an answer. He stormed past Vivian, his shoulder checking her hard enough to make her stumble.
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