Chapter 2 - The Final Ledger
My father stepped further into the room, his eyes narrowing as he watched Julian disappear down the hallway. A deep, irritable furrow appeared between his brows.
"What is that lawyer talking about, Miranda?" my father demanded, stepping up to the side of my bed. "What restructuring? What did you just do?"
"I fixed my estate," I replied calmly, keeping my gaze locked on his face.
My mother gave a nervous, high-pitched laugh, walking over to set her coffee cup down on the rolling bedside table. "Don't be ridiculous. You've had the same will for six years. We're your primary beneficiaries—your father and I—and Lauren is secondary. It’s what sensible families do when their daughter builds a successful medical software company."
"Built," I corrected her quietly. "Past tense, Mom. I sold that company two years ago for eighty-five million dollars. And as of ten minutes ago, none of you have access to a single penny of it anymore."
The room went dead silent. The faint hum of the heart monitor seemed to grow deafeningly loud.
My mother stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief, waiting for me to smile or say just kidding. When my face remained an unyielding mask of stone, the color slowly drained from her cheeks.
"You're lying," she whispered, her voice pitching up in panic. "You wouldn't... that’s our family security! Your father retired early based on the trust distributions! You promised us the lake house!"
"I promised nothing," I said, my voice cutting through her panic like a razor. "For thirty-two years, I have been the backup plan. The safety net. The person who funded Lauren’s lifestyle, your vacations, and your social standing while you treated me like an inconvenient afterthought. When I was lying on this trauma ward wondering if my spleen was going to rupture, you were posting TikTok videos of yourselves carrying lamps."
My father’s face flushed a dark, angry crimson. He slammed his hand down onto the metal railing of my bed, making me flinch.
"You ungrateful, selfish little bitch!" my father roared, spittle flying from his lips. "We raised you! We fed you! Everything you earned in this life started with the roof over your head that we provided! You think you can just cut us off because we weren't at your bedside within five minutes of your little accident?!"
"Yes," I answered without a single tremor in my voice. "I can. And I just did."
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Before my father could erupt into another tirade, the door to my hospital room swung open again, and my nurse, Marisol, walked in holding a clipboard, her eyes darting nervously between my furious parents and me.
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