Chapter 44: My Lawyers
Justin’s POV
The hospital manager wore the kind of smile that never reached a person’s eyes. Professional. Polite. Completely fake. It was the smile people practiced before delivering terrible news, and I hated it on sight.
"Mr. Hayes," the manager said, clasping his hands together. "I apologize for the inconvenience."
"Inconvenience?" I almost laughed. "You’ve just refused treatment to a woman whose care was paid for months ago. I wouldn’t exactly call that an inconvenience."
The manager’s smile faltered. "I understand your frustration."
"No," I said, taking one slow step closer. "I don’t think you do."
Behind me, Harper remained beside her mother’s wheelchair, trying desperately to keep the panic off her face. Emma stood rigidly with her arms folded. Noah looked from one adult to another, clearly sensing something was wrong without fully understanding what. And Harper’s mother looked exhausted. Confused. I wasn’t about to let her find out what was happening in the middle of a hospital lobby.
I turned back to the manager. "So explain it," I said.
The manager inhaled carefully. "We’ve received authorization instructing us that Mrs. Brooks is no longer to receive treatment at this facility."
I stared at him. "Authorization."
"Yes."
"From who?"
"I’m afraid I cannot disclose that," he said.
"You cannot disclose it," I repeated slowly, making sure I’d heard correctly.
"I’m not authorized to reveal the source," he said.
I let out a slow breath through my nose. "I paid every invoice." No response. "I paid for the surgery." Silence. "I paid for the medication." Nothing. "I paid for every projected follow-up appointment."
The manager nodded. "Yes. The account is fully settled."
"Then why are we standing here having this conversation?"
He lowered his eyes. "We received instructions from higher up," he said quietly.
Higher up. The words echoed inside my head. Hospitals didn’t cancel treatment because a receptionist woke up in a bad mood. Someone with influence had made a phone call. Someone powerful. Someone whose opinion outweighed money.
My jaw slowly tightened. There weren’t many people who could do that. My grandparents. My mother’s charitable foundation. My father.
Something cold settled in my stomach. My expression changed before I could stop it. "Oh," I said, the single syllable escaping quietly.
The manager noticed. His eyes flickered away. I didn’t miss it. He knew. He knew exactly what I had just figured out.
"There are only three major donors to this hospital," I said evenly. The manager remained silent. "My grandparents." Still nothing. "My mother’s foundation." Another beat of silence. "And my father."
The manager’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. That was answer enough.
My hands curled into fists. Dad. Of course. First the injunction against my inheritance. Then the endless legal delays surrounding my mother’s estate. Every request for information buried beneath another stack of paperwork. Every attempt to access her personal belongings blocked. Every conversation ending with lawyers. And now Harper. Her mother. He’d crossed a line.
I laughed quietly. It wasn’t amusement. It was disbelief. "I’ve really been giving him too much grace," I said, almost to myself.
The manager shifted uneasily. "Mr. Hayes—"
"No," I cut him off. "No more."
For months I’d convinced myself there had to be a reason. A legal complication. A misunderstanding. Something. Anything. But this wasn’t business. This wasn’t probate. This was personal. My father had reached beyond the courtroom and into Harper’s life. Into her mother’s recovery.
I looked over my shoulder. Harper was kneeling beside her mother, pretending everything was okay. Smiling. Even now. She was still protecting her family, just like she’d always done.
Something inside me hardened. Enough. I was done waiting. Done hoping my father would suddenly remember how to be a decent human being. Done pretending silence would make things easier. If he wanted a fight, he’d finally have one.
The realization settled over me with startling clarity. For years I’d been trying to avoid becoming part of my family’s endless wars. I wanted hockey. I wanted a career built with my own hands. I wanted scouts to see Justin Hayes the player, not Justin Hayes the heir. I wanted to earn my future, not inherit it.
But earning my future didn’t mean surrendering my past. My mother’s legacy mattered. The companies she’d built mattered. Her foundation mattered. The truth about what had happened to her mattered. And now Harper mattered too. My father had managed to turn every one of those battles into the same war.
I looked back at the manager, my voice becoming frighteningly calm. "Resume Mrs. Brooks’ treatment," I said.
The manager swallowed. "I’m afraid I can’t."
"You can," I said simply.
"I’ve been instructed—"
I stepped closer. "No. You’ve been intimidated." He opened his mouth. I didn’t let him speak. "You know who funds your pediatric oncology wing?" He hesitated. "You know whose name is on the research grant your hospital advertises every year?" Silence. "You know exactly whose foundation helped renovate this building."
Another silence. I nodded slowly. "Good. Then let me make something equally clear. If Mrs. Brooks is denied treatment because of politics instead of medicine, I’ll personally make sure every donation made in my mother’s name disappears from this hospital."
The color drained from the manager’s face. "Mr. Hayes, let’s not make any rash decisions."
"Rash?" I almost smiled. "You think threatening a sick woman is reasonable, but me protecting her is rash?"
"No, sir, that’s not what I—"
"Then explain it," I said.
"I can’t," he replied.
"Call someone who can," I said.
The manager looked genuinely trapped. I folded my arms. "Do you want me to call my grandparents?" I asked quietly.
That finally broke him. "No," he said, the answer coming too quickly.
I noticed immediately. Interesting. Very interesting. "If your grandparents become involved..." he started, then stopped himself.
I caught it right away. So that’s it. Another piece slid into place. Whatever had happened, whoever had made that call, the hospital was terrified of it becoming known.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. My thumb hovered over my grandparents’ contact. I looked up one last time. "I’m giving you exactly one chance," I said quietly. "Tell me who ordered this."
The manager’s face turned pale. And for the first time since this conversation began, he looked genuinely afraid.
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