Three large security guards stood in front of him, their arms crossed.

“I am their father!” Grant screamed, pointing a finger at the guards. “I have a right to see my children!”

“You have no rights here, Mr. Holloway,” Margaret said, stepping out into the hallway behind me.

Grant’s eyes locked onto her, then onto me.

He looked desperate, his expensive silk tie crooked and his eyes bloodshot.

“You did this,” he said, staring at me. “You ruined my life.”

“You did this to yourself, Grant,” I said, my voice steady and quiet. “You left us to die in this hospital so you could save your company.”

“I was trying to secure our future!” he yelled.

“No,” I said. “You were trying to secure your own power.”

One of the hospital security directors stepped forward, holding a tablet.

“Mr. Holloway, you are currently trespassing on private property,” the director said. “If you do not leave the premises immediately, we will have the police arrest you.”

“This is my hospital!” Grant lied, his voice cracking. “I donated the west wing!”