The Heiress They Left To Die Chapter 06
Arthur didn’t spare Richard a glance.
He crossed straight to me, took one look at the blood on the back of my hand, and his face darkened.
Then he turned to face the room.
“I’m Arthur Blackwood. Founder and Chairman of the Board of Blackwood Medical Group.”
“Ava is my daughter. And my sole publicly recognized heir.”
“Now — who authorized bringing a fabricated malpractice accusation into this room to attack her?”
The room went dead quiet.
Richard froze in place.
Margaret’s hand stalled around her phone.
The sneer on Ethan’s face locked up.
Josie, propped against the headboard, went ashen.
Even the woman stopped crying and looked around, panicked.
The livestream chat paused for two seconds — and then the comments came pouring back in.
Wait. Ava Blackwood is the heir to Blackwood Medical??
The Hawthornes just tried to blacklist Blackwood’s heir?? Have they lost their minds??
I straightened my rumpled coat and walked over to the woman.
She was already pressed into a chair by Blackwood security, still shaking.
“You said your son died in a hospital bed last night. So instead of dealing with the death certificate, the paperwork, or calling a lawyer — you’re able to walk straight into a private VIP suite that isn’t open to the public?”
I looked at her.
“You say he was my patient. Then tell me. What’s his name? What was his diagnosis? What did I prescribe him?”
Her eyes started skittering around.
“My… my son’s name is…”
She stalled.
“He had a heart condition.”
“Heart attack, heart failure, arrhythmia — which one?”
“Just — just a heart condition…”
“Then what did I prescribe?”
“How am I supposed to remember the names of drugs?! All I know is you killed him!”
Her voice dropped lower and lower.
The chat shifted with her.
She can’t even name her own son’s diagnosis. This performance is absurdly bad.
Who let this crazy woman onto the VIP floor?? Somebody put her up to this.
Cornered, unable to answer, the woman suddenly shook off security and lunged at me again.
“Give me my son back!”
I stepped to the side.
She missed — but her hand caught the pocket of my coat.
The next second, the Hawthorne crest necklace slipped out of my pocket and hit the floor.
The mother-of-pearl casing cracked open. Inside: the Hawthorne family crest, and the birth date of Clara Hawthorne.
The moment Margaret saw that necklace, her face broke apart, and tears rushed to her eyes.