My husband tried to financially ruin me while I was in the hospital, but he forgot who owned the entire medical group.
The fluorescent lights of the hospital room seemed unusually harsh, highlighting the nervous sheen on Mr. Arthur Evans’s forehead. He perched on the edge of the chair Maya had arranged, his hands clasped tightly over a thick binder. I had insisted on a video call for this “routine” financial overview, citing my recovery as the reason, but secretly I wanted to observe his reactions unimpeded by physical presence.
“Thank you for taking the time, Mr. Evans,” I began, my voice calm, almost tired. I leaned back against my pillows, feigning a weariness I no longer felt. “I simply wanted to review the maintenance budget. With everything that’s happened, I’m trying to stay on top of things, even from here.”
Mr. Evans nodded vigorously, his eyes darting between me and the laptop screen. He was a man of numbers, uncomfortable with anything beyond columns and ledgers.
“Of course, Dr. Jensen,” he stammered, adjusting his glasses. “Completely understandable. We’re all deeply concerned about your health.”
“The maintenance budget has always been a point of pride for my father,” I continued, pressing gently. “He believed in reinvesting in our infrastructure. I’ve noticed a few, shall we say, unusual expenditures recently, especially regarding external contractors.”
Mr. Evans cleared his throat, opening his binder. He began to drone on about line items, unit costs, and projected versus actual spending. I let him talk, listening for any hesitation, any tell.
“Yes, that’s all very clear, Mr. Evans,” I interrupted smoothly, after a few minutes of technical jargon. “But specifically, these shell corporations Maya mentioned… I mean, these new contractors. They seem to have appeared quite suddenly. Jensen Healthcare usually prefers established, long-term partners.”
He flinched visibly at the mention of “shell corporations,” his hands tightening on the binder. He quickly recovered, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Ah, yes, those,” he mumbled. “New vendors. Mr. Keller… David, that is… he brought them to our attention. Said they offered competitive rates and specialized services.”
“Did he?” I asked, letting a hint of mild surprise enter my voice. “That’s unlike David to involve himself so deeply in procurement. I thought his focus was more on executive strategy.”
Mr. Evans shifted, his gaze flickering away from the camera. He was clearly uncomfortable.
“Well, yes, Dr. Jensen. His… his interests have broadened considerably of late,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s been very… hands-on with a number of departments.”
I held his gaze, a silent invitation for him to continue. I could almost hear Maya’s earlier words echoing: “unusual inquiries.”
“He’s been quite persistent,” Mr. Evans finally blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. “Especially in his questions about… about your father’s estate.”
My breath caught. There it was. Twist 4.
“My father’s estate?” I repeated, feigning confusion. “Why would David be interested in that? Maya handles all my personal legal affairs.”
Mr. Evans wrung his hands. “He was very, very specific, Dr. Jensen. He wanted to see the detailed breakdown of your father’s will. The trust documents. He asked about the share allocations, particularly the voting rights.”
A cold dread spread through me, far deeper than the earlier discovery of the embezzlement. This wasn’t about skimming funds. This was about outright control.
“He wanted to ascertain if certain clauses could be challenged,” Mr. Evans continued, seemingly unable to stop himself now that the dam had broken. “Or perhaps, overridden. He specifically asked about any provisions related to a change in leadership due to unforeseen circumstances.”
Unforeseen circumstances. Like a severe injury rendering a board member incapacitated. The puzzle pieces clicked into a terrifying picture.
“He was trying to figure out how to take over,” I thought, the realization hitting me with the force of a physical blow.
“He even requested a legal opinion on whether the primary beneficiary of a trust, in cases of… of prolonged incapacity, could be replaced,” Mr. Evans added, his face paling as he finally seemed to register the gravity of what he was revealing.
I felt a surge of adrenaline, masking the pain in my leg. David wasn’t just after money; he was after my father’s entire legacy. My company.
“I see,” I said, my voice carefully neutral, even though my insides were churning. “And what did you tell him, Mr. Evans?”
He swallowed hard. “I told him that those documents are highly confidential. That they are not within the purview of a junior executive. I… I politely refused, Dr. Jensen. Multiple times.”
“But he kept pressing?” I prompted.
“He was relentless,” Mr. Evans confirmed. “He even tried to imply that he was acting on your behalf, that you had authorized these inquiries for ‘future planning’.”
A ghost of a smile touched my lips, utterly devoid of humor. David’s brazenness knew no bounds. He was trying to use me as his unwitting accomplice even before the “accident.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Evans,” I said, my voice now firmer, carrying an unspoken weight. “I appreciate your professionalism in upholding Jensen Healthcare’s confidentiality policies.”
He visibly relaxed a fraction, realizing he hadn’t been reprimanded. “It’s my duty, Dr. Jensen. Always.”
“Did he mention anything else? Any other unusual requests related to company structure or ownership?” I probed, needing every detail.
“He was also very interested in the minor shareholders,” Mr. Evans volunteered. “He wanted a full list, including their contact information and historical voting records. He said it was for ‘investor relations outreach’.”
Investor relations outreach. More manipulation. He was trying to court them, to gather proxies.
“I provided general investor data, of course,” Mr. Evans clarified. “But I did not release personal contact information without explicit authorization. It felt… improper.”
“You did well, Mr. Evans,” I assured him, letting him know he was on the right side. “You’ve been very helpful. I understand you have a strict ethical code, and I respect that.”
He looked genuinely relieved, a nervous smile replacing his previous anxiety. “Thank you, Dr. Jensen. I always strive for transparency and integrity.”
“Indeed,” I replied. “Now, regarding these maintenance contracts. I’d like you to compile a detailed report of all payments made to these new ‘vendors’ over the past six months. Every invoice, every wire transfer. And include any internal communications regarding their onboarding.”
“A full audit?” Mr. Evans asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
“A thorough review,” I corrected him. “Consider it part of my ongoing due diligence as a board member. I want to understand these new expenditures thoroughly. Keep it confidential, please. For my eyes only.”
“Understood, Dr. Jensen,” he said, already making a note in his binder. He seemed to grasp that this was more than a routine check, but not the full scope of it. His fear of impropriety aligned perfectly with my need for discretion.
“And Mr. Evans,” I added, just as he was about to sign off. “If Mr. Keller makes any further inquiries regarding my father’s estate, or anything related to company ownership, I expect you to inform me immediately. Personally.”
He nodded gravely. “You have my word, Dr. Jensen.”
The call ended. I lay back against the pillows, the false fatigue falling away. David wasn’t just attempting embezzlement; he was planning a hostile takeover. My injury was his window, and my grief his perceived weakness. He was systematically undermining my authority, trying to gain control of Jensen Healthcare Group itself.
The knowledge was chilling, but also galvanizing. He believed he was outsmarting everyone. He believed I was out of commission. What he didn’t realize was that my father had prepared me for this long ago. He had taught me not just how to heal bodies, but how to protect a legacy. And he had underestimated his wife. This wasn’t just about recovering from my shattered leg anymore. It was about protecting everything my father had built. I had to move faster. I had to anticipate his every move.
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