Chapter 2 - THE MEDICAL FILE

The lobby of the Four Seasons was dead silent at 4:45 AM.

I didn't stop at the front desk. I bypassed security entirely, slipping a hundred-dollar bill to a sleepy night porter who pointed me toward the service elevator.

Room 412.

I stood in the plush, dimly lit hallway. I didn't knock.

I took two steps back and kicked the heavy mahogany door directly beside the electronic lock. The wood splintered with a deafening crack, the door flying open and slamming against the interior wall.

“What the hell?!” a gruff, panicked voice shouted from the bed.

I walked into the suite.

Arthur Laru scrambled backward against the headboard, clutching the white hotel sheets to his chest. He was a pathetic, aging man. Thinning hair, bloodshot eyes, and the unmistakable stench of cheap bourbon radiating off his skin.

“Who are you?!” Arthur stammered, reaching for the hotel phone on the nightstand.

I didn't answer. I walked over, ripped the phone cord out of the wall, and threw the receiver across the room.

“I am the man whose daughter you tried to steal,” I said, my voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register that made Arthur freeze in terror.

“You’re… you’re Valiant,” Arthur swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling instantly. “Look, man, Marcus Sterling told me this was just a paperwork thing! He paid me fifty grand to sign the certificate. He said nobody was going to get hurt!”

“You signed your name claiming to be the father of your own daughter's child,” I said, stepping closer to the bed. “You sold Violet out for fifty thousand dollars. Again.”

Arthur shrank back. “I needed the money! I had gambling debts in Vegas! They were going to break my legs!”

I stared at him with absolute, unadulterated disgust.

“I should let them,” I said.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a thick, legal document David had drafted in the car. I slammed it onto the nightstand next to a half-empty bottle of bourbon, along with a gold pen.

“What is this?” Arthur asked, trembling.

“It is a sworn, notarized affidavit stating that you committed perjury and fraud on a government document at the behest of Marcus Sterling,” I said. “It legally relinquishes any and all claims to Celeste, and names Marcus as the sole orchestrator of the conspiracy.”

Arthur shook his head wildly. “I can't sign that! Marcus will kill me! He’s a powerful man!”

“Marcus is a businessman,” I leaned down, resting my hands on the mattress, bringing my face inches from his. “I am a father protecting his family. Who do you think is going to be more ruthless?”

Arthur stared into my eyes and saw the absolute, terrifying truth.

“Sign it,” I whispered.

With shaking hands, Arthur picked up the gold pen and signed his name at the bottom of the affidavit.

I snatched the paper, folded it, and placed it inside my jacket.

“Pack your bags,” I ordered, turning away from him. “My security team is downstairs. They are putting you on a private jet to South America. If you ever set foot in the United States again, or if you ever try to contact Violet, I will not bother kicking the door down next time.”

I left him shaking on the bed and walked out of the suite.

When I returned to the penthouse, the sun was just beginning to rise over the Chicago skyline, casting a golden light through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Violet was sitting on the sofa, bouncing Celeste gently on her knee. She looked exhausted, but when she saw me walk through the door, her face lit up with a fragile, desperate hope.

I walked over and handed David the signed affidavit.

“File it with the judge before the 9 AM hearing,” I instructed. “Marcus’s petition is dead. And call the federal prosecutor. It’s time to arrest Mr. Sterling for medical fraud and extortion.”

David grinned, grabbing his briefcase. “With pleasure, boss.”

As David left, I knelt down in front of Violet.

She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s gone?”

“He’s gone,” I promised softly. “He will never hurt you again.”

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small velvet box my security chief had retrieved from the pawnshop on 4th Street.

I opened it.