Chapter 8 - The Consent
Rafe’s eyes moved to the consent form.
Then to Mercer.
“You should explain why your signature is on that.”
Mercer’s face reddened.
“It isn’t mine.”
Rafe gave a small shrug.
“Everyone’s signatures seem to be wandering tonight.”
Dominic watched him carefully.
That sentence was too polished.
Prepared.
“Vincent,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Put Rafe back with the council.”
Rafe looked almost relieved.
“Dominic, that would be a mistake.”
“Most interesting things are.”
Vincent took Rafe by the elbow.
Rafe pulled free before it became a struggle.
“I can walk.”
He left with Vincent behind him.
Dominic turned to Mercer.
“Can the procedure happen?”
Mercer stared.
“What?”
“Can you perform enough of it to convince whoever arranged it that I’m sedated?”
Clare said, “No.”
Dominic looked at her.
She folded her arms.
“No. You don’t get to turn yourself into bait while my daughter is in this house.”
“Those are separate problems.”
“They became the same problem when someone threatened her.”
Mercer interrupted.
“I can fake the schedule. I can log medications as prepared without administering them. But if someone expects your vitals to show sedation—”
Mason stepped in.
“We can loop the monitor.”
Mercer looked offended.
“You cannot just loop medical telemetry.”
Mason lifted one eyebrow.
“Tonight I can.”
Dominic looked at Clare.
“Ellie goes to the panic suite with two guards and an analog radio.”
“She goes with me.”
“No.”
Clare’s face hardened.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“If the person behind this thinks you are beside me, they may leave her alone.”
Clare stared at him.
“That is a sentence only a man without children would say.”
Dominic didn’t answer.
The truth of it hurt more than he expected.
Clare exhaled through her nose.
“Five minutes. I put her in myself.”
“Agreed.”
At 11:21, Dominic lay on the private treatment bed wearing a hospital gown under an open robe.
He hated it.
Not the gown.
The position.
Flat on his back while other people controlled the room.
Mercer attached monitors.
Mason routed the feed through an isolated recorder.
Angela stood near the supply cart, pale and rigid.
Dominic had insisted she participate.
If the conspiracy expected her, absence would warn them.
Clare returned at 11:27.
“Ellie is secure.”
Vincent checked the hallway.
“Council still contained. Arthur yelling. Rafe reading.”
“Reading what?”
“Your corporate bylaws.”
Dominic smiled.
“Comfort behavior.”
Mercer held up an empty syringe.
“I’m documenting the nerve block now.”
He touched the capped syringe to the IV port without puncturing it.
Mason changed the monitor display.
Dominic’s heart rate appeared to slow.
Angela’s phone buzzed.
Everyone looked at her.
She froze.
“Answer,” Dominic said.
She put it on speaker.
A processed voice spoke.
“Is he under?”
Angela looked at Dominic.
“Yes.”
“Repeat.”
“He’s under.”
“Mercer?”
Angela glanced at the doctor.
“Here.”
“Good. Replace the bag.”
Mercer’s head snapped up.
“What bag?” Angela asked.
“The clear one.”
The call ended.
Nobody moved.
Then all eyes went to the IV pole.
A clear saline bag hung above Dominic.
Mercer reached for it.
Vincent stopped him.
“Don’t touch.”
There were two sealed bags on the lower shelf of the supply cart.
Both looked identical.
Mercer stared at Angela.
“Did you bring those?”
“No.”
“Who stocked the cart?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent pulled on gloves.
He lifted the first bag.
Manufacturer label intact.
He lifted the second.
Same label.
But the port cover sat slightly crooked.
Dominic felt the muscles in his stomach harden.
Mercer used a test strip and then a handheld analyzer from the emergency kit.
His face changed.
“What?” Dominic asked.
“This is not saline.”
“What is it?”
Mercer shook his head. “I need a lab.”
“Guess.”
“I am not guessing.”
“Then tell me what it could do.”
Mercer looked at the fluid again.
“If it contains what the analyzer suggests, it could seriously complicate bleeding and blood pressure in someone recovering from orthopedic trauma.”
Clare’s hand went over her mouth.
Dominic looked at the IV line taped to his arm.
The fake procedure had become real enough.
Vincent bagged the fluid.
“Someone expected this to go into you while you were sedated.”
Dominic sat up.
Mercer caught his shoulder.
“Slowly.”
Dominic pulled the monitoring leads off.
“No more theater.”
A heavy knock hit the outer treatment-room door.
Vincent drew his pistol.
“Who?”
“Sheriff’s department.”
Everyone looked at Dominic.
Another knock.
“Mr. Vale? We have an emergency court order requiring access to the patient.”
Rafe’s timing was immaculate.
Vincent opened the door three inches with the chain engaged.
Two uniformed deputies stood outside with a process server and a man in a dark overcoat.
Not police.
Court officer.
He held up papers.
“Emergency petition filed by Vale Holdings counsel and two directors.”
Dominic got off the bed.
Pain hit his leg, but the brace held correctly.
“What petition?”
The officer read.
“Temporary medical and corporate preservation order based on evidence of impaired judgment, threats against board members, unlawful detention, and refusal of recommended treatment.”
Clare whispered, “They turned the lockdown into proof.”
Dominic looked past the officer.
Rafe stood at the end of the corridor.
Arthur beside him.
Arthur looked furious.
Rafe looked calm.
The officer continued.
“Pending an emergency hearing, you are prohibited from executing material asset decisions or removing corporate records from the estate.”
Dominic smiled slightly.
“That was fast.”
Rafe stepped closer.
“Dominic, nobody wanted this.”
“That sentence has never been true when spoken by a lawyer.”
Arthur snapped, “You locked six directors in a room and pointed guns at staff.”
Vincent said, “One gun.”
Arthur ignored him.
Rafe held out his hand.
“Give me the Pier Seventeen materials. We preserve the status quo until morning.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Status quo closes tomorrow at midnight.”
“That transaction is already in motion.”
“Exactly.”
The officer cleared his throat.
“Mr. Vale, I need acknowledgment of service.”
Dominic took the papers.
At the bottom, the proposed temporary neutral supervisor was listed.
Rafe Calder.
Of course.
Dominic looked at Arthur.
“Did you sign this?”
Arthur’s eyes flickered.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re behaving like a man who cannot tell enemies from allies.”
Dominic glanced at the fake consent form.
Then the bag of unknown fluid.
Then Rafe.
“Maybe I’m improving.”
Rafe stepped forward.
“Dominic.”
“Don’t.”
“I am trying to keep the company intact.”
“No. You’re trying to make my signature irrelevant.”
Rafe’s face barely changed.
But Dominic saw his eyes move to the IV bag in Vincent’s hand.
Just once.
Too quickly.
Recognition.
Dominic filed it away.
The court officer handed him a second document.
Emergency hearing.
8:00 a.m.
Until then, the estate remained under a limited preservation order.
No transfers.
No destruction.
No removal of corporate records.
That sounded protective.
Then Dominic read the final paragraph.
Existing transactions approved before issuance were exempt.
Pier Seventeen had been approved months earlier subject only to continuity authority.
Rafe did not need to destroy the sale.
He only needed Dominic unable to stop it.
Dominic looked up.
Rafe’s voice stayed gentle.
“Get some sleep.”
Dominic folded the order once.
Then again.
He did not give Rafe the satisfaction of a third fold.
“Vincent,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Wake everybody.”
Rafe frowned.
Dominic looked at the clock.
11:46 p.m.
May you like
“I think it’s time the council heard what temporary authority is actually buying.”
