“You’re not going to like this.”
“I already don’t.” I hear papers rustling on his end.
“Priscilla submitted a request directly to the board chair,” he says. “Claiming her niece isn’t mentally competent… Here’s the kicker: This petition name you, saying you and your lawyersare attempting to manipulate Kamiyah, use her position on the board to manipulate the hospital’s ethics committee into granting a petition of release from her conservatorship that would financially benefit you.”
I laugh—sharp, humorless. “Financially benefit me how?”
“How do I know? Maybe Priscilla wants permanent conservatorship.”
I remain silent as Ethan’s words ring true. Why else would Priscilla go after Kamiyah’s future children?
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into Caden…” Ethan snaps. “What happened to not fucking with Kamiyah after she ditched you? Do you remember how miserable you were…moping around as if someone stole your admission to heaven?”
My grip on the phone tightens.
“Stop,” I cut in. “Just stop.” The words are poison. Not because they’re a lie, but because they are true. “I’m going to support her, Ethan. Are you going to help me or not?”
“What kind of bullshit question is that?”
I smile, despite the gravity of the situation.
He sighs. “What are we going to do?”
I knew it was only a matter of time before Priscilla realized I’m behind the petition to release Kamiyah from her conservatorship. Her aunt crafted that request with surgical precision. Using the exact phrasing that will set off alarms in a boardroom full of reputation-obsessed bureaucrats and doctors.
Ethan hesitates. “Caden… She’s dangerous. She knows exactly which strings to pull.”
“I know.” My jaw locks. “Tell me the damage.”
“The hospital’s legal counsel is now required to interview Kamiyah.”
My stomach drops.
I turn to look at Kamiyah. She’s sitting on the edge of the sofa, arms wrapped around herself. Small. Too small for someone who carries the weight she does.
She looks up, and something in me snaps.
“I’ll handle it,” I tell Ethan. I’ll have my lawyer counter-file. Challenge Priscilla’s credibility and the misuse of her role as conservator.
Ethan says quietly. “You need something strong. You need leverage.”
Leverage.
A word her aunt understands far too well.
“Find it,” I say. “I don’t care how. Find it and Ethan, I want to know everything that happens at Haven Crest.”
When I hang up, I take a moment—one long inhale, one longer exhale—to cool the edges of my anger before I face her. But it doesn’t matter. She already saw too much.
“Caden?” she asks, voice barely there.
I sit beside her, close enough that our knees brush. “Your aunt filed a formal complaint with the hospital board. She’s trying to get you labeled at mentally incompetent to make your own decisions.”
Her breath stutters. “But she—she can’t interfere with medical decisions?—”
“She can if she positions it as a matter of ethics and financial misconduct.”
Her face goes white.
