CHAPTER 5
By six o'clock that morning, the emergency trauma bay at Harborview Medical Center was buzzing with surgical teams and armed federal guards stationed outside the double doors.
I woke up under bright fluorescent lights, the rhythmic, steady beep of a heart monitor echoing softly in the sterile, warm hospital room.
My chest was tightly wrapped in heavy compression bandages, an oxygen tube resting beneath my nose, but the sharp, unbearable agony in my side had subsided into a dull, manageable throb.
Sitting in a vinyl armchair beside my bed was Elena, still wearing her charcoal suit, her dark eyes hollow with exhaustion as she reviewed legal files on her tablet.
"You should be resting, sweetheart," I rasped out, my voice scratchy and faint from the anesthesia tube.
Elena instantly dropped her tablet, jumping to her feet and resting her hand gently against my shoulder with an overwhelming sense of relief.
"You survived surgery, Dad," she breathed, wiping a single tear from her eye. "The doctors repaired the spleen and set three fractured ribs. The surgeon said thirty more minutes in that alley without medical attention and you would have bled out."
"And Victor?" I asked, struggling to sit up slightly against the adjusted hospital pillows.
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"Victor Dane, his four primary legal advisors, and twelve senior executives across three continents were arrested within two hours of that transmission," Elena reported, showing me the breaking news headlines on her screen.
"DANE GLOBAL HOLDINGS COLLAPSES AS FBI SEIZES BILLION-DOLLAR OFFSHORE ACCOUNT NETWORK IN SEATTLE STING OPERATION."
