Chapter 5 - The Proxy Revocation
The heavy oak door of Room 402 groaned open against the linoleum floor, cutting short the silence between Everett and me. Dr. Marcus Vance stepped into the sterile white glare of the hospital suite, clipboard clutched against his dark vest, flanked by two private security guards in slate-gray blazers. Vance’s face wore that practiced, professional mask that usually signaled bad news delivered with a smooth smile. He didn't look at me at first; his eyes fixed entirely on the hospital bed where Everett lay.
"Mr. Kane," Vance said, his voice dropping into a professional register designed to manage patients and override families alike. "I'm glad to see your alertness is returning. However, under the circumstances of your ongoing recovery and the emergency administrative protocols initiated by your cousin Sterling, we have paperwork that requires your immediate signature. A temporary medical proxy transfer of authority."
Everett didn't flinch. His hand, still gripping my wrist with a firm, grounding pressure, did not loosen its hold by a single millimeter. He shifted his weight upward, his shoulders clearing the mattress as he propped himself against the elevated metal frame. The pale scar on his forehead caught the fluorescent glare overhead, stark and white.
"Vance," Everett rasped, his voice rough from disuse but carrying the distinct, authoritative timbre that had commanded the Kane Industries boardroom for a decade. "Drop the clipboard. And get those guards out of my sight before I have them charged with trespassing."
Vance blinked, his professional composure slipping for a fraction of a second as he glanced toward the guards. "Sir, you are in no condition to evaluate legal proxies. Sterling acted in the best interest of the corporation. The board has already scheduled an emergency session for noon to ratify the transition."
"Sterling acts for himself," Everett said, his gray eyes narrowing into cold slits. He turned his head slowly, looking directly at the doctor. "I am fully conscious. I am legally competent. And as of right now, I formally and completely revoke any medical and corporate proxy previously assigned to Sterling Kane. Furthermore, my wife—Willa Hayes—holds sole designated authority over my care and estate."
The silence in the room became absolute. The hum of the wall monitor seemed to amplify, ticking steadily against the mounting tension. Vance took a half-step forward, his pen hovering over the clipboard as if he could force reality to bend by sheer administrative stubbornness.
"Mr. Kane, an informal declaration—"
May you like
"It's not informal," I interrupted, stepping out from the shadow of the IV pole to stand beside the bed, squarely facing the doctor. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crisp, folded duplicate of the chapel registry certificate, holding it out where Vance could read the embossed seal. "Section twelve of the corporate charter and state family law both recognize a spouse's priority. You have twenty seconds to clear this room before I call the downtown precinct and report an unauthorized medical seizure."
Vance stared at the seal, then at Everett’s unblinking, furious gaze. The calculation behind the doctor's eyes was visible—he realized the bet on Sterling was losing its leverage. With a sharp, clipped nod to the guards, Vance turned on his heel, the heavy door swinging shut behind them with a definitive click.
