Chapter 9 - The Waking World
The car ride to St. Jude’s Pediatric Trauma Center took less than eight minutes, though every second stretched like an eternity. Agent Reyes had taken over perimeter security at the house, while Grace remained behind to oversee the federal asset seizure of Meridian Holdings' local headquarters.
I pushed through the automated double doors of the hospital lobby, the familiar scent of antiseptic and floor wax hitting me like a physical wave. The night shift nurse at the front desk looked up, recognized me immediately, and nodded without asking for a visitor pass.
"Room 312, Mr. Whitfield. The federal detail is still stationed outside, but he’s awake and alert."
"Thank you," I said, my voice thick with a mixture of exhaustion and profound relief.
I hurried down the quiet, sterile hallway, my shoes clicking softly against the linoleum. When I reached Room 312, the two tactical agents standing guard gave me a respectful nod and gently pushed the heavy glass door open for me.
The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft, steady glow of the medical monitors beside the bed.
Eli was sitting propped up against a stack of pillows. The white bandage along his jaw looked stark against his pale skin, but his dark eyes were wide, clear, and focused entirely on the doorway as I walked in.
"Dad," he whispered, his voice small and raspy.
I hurried to the bedside, dropping to my knees so I was at eye level with him. I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as I gently touched his uninjured hand, careful not to disturb the IV line taped to his wrist.
"I'm right here, buddy," I said, my voice breaking slightly as the emotional dam I had held back all night finally gave way. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Eli looked around the sterile room, then back at me, his brow furrowed in that quiet, thoughtful way that always reminded me so much of myself. "Uncle Ryan... was he here? I remember him shouting in the hallway before everything went dark."
The question hung in the air, heavy and sharp. I swallowed hard, searching for words that a nine-year-old could process without shattering his sense of the world.
"Uncle Ryan made some very bad choices, Eli," I said softly, stroking the back of his hand with my thumb. "And the police had to take him away. He won't be coming back to our house for a very long time."
Eli was quiet for a moment, absorbing the information with a maturity that felt entirely too heavy for a child his age. "Did he do it because of the briefcase?"
My breath caught in my throat. "What briefcase, bud?"
"The black one you keep in the home office," Eli said quietly, looking down at the hospital blanket. "I saw him take it out of the closet yesterday when you were still at the banquet. He told me if I told you, he would hurt our dog."
A cold spike of adrenaline pierced my chest. The files—the physical backup copies I had printed out before leaving for the year-end party—weren't just digital ghosts on a remote server. Ryan had physical possession of them before he assaulted my son.
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And if Ryan had them, that meant they were currently sitting in the trunk of his car parked outside my parents' house—or worse, already handed over to Meridian’s remaining enforcers.
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