“They cannot do that,” he whispered.

“They can, and they have,” Margaret said, closing her briefcase with a sharp, metallic click.

The sound seemed to echo in the sterile room.

“Without your legal team, you cannot file the emergency custody motion you planned for tomorrow morning,” Margaret said.

I leaned back against the stiff hospital pillows, feeling a dull ache in my lower abdomen where the surgery had been.

For the first time in forty-eight hours, I felt like I could draw a full breath.

Grant turned toward the window, looking down at the two security guards waiting near the curb.

He tapped his phone screen again, attempting to call his head of security.

“Marcus,” Grant said when the call connected. “Go to the administrative office downstairs. Get the key cards for the private wing.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Mr. Holloway,” the guard’s voice came through, sounding distant. “Our corporate fuel cards just got declined at the depot.”

“Pay for it yourself and submit an invoice,” Grant said.

“My team works on a weekly retainer, sir,” Marcus said. “Our accounts show a zero balance on the current authorization code.”