The paramedics burst through the massive front doors with a stretcher and heavy medical gear. Within minutes, they stabilized Clowe's neck with a plastic brace and loaded her into the back of the ambulance. Mark refused to leave her side, holding her cold hand tightly while the emergency vehicle raced toward the hospital with flashing blue lights. Victoria followed behind in her luxury car, desperate to control the narrative before Clowe could speak to the police officers who were already investigating the scene of the incident.
Victoria: Officer, my stepdaughter has been stressed about the wedding.
Police Officer: Ma'am, we need you to step back from the emergency room entrance.
Victoria: I am her mother! She was dizzy all morning from dieting.
Police Officer: The doctors are examining her injuries right now.
Victoria: It was just a tragic, clumsy fall on those slick stairs.
Mark stepped out of the hospital room doors, his face dark with fury and tears. He grabbed his mother by the arm and pulled her into a private consultation nook down the hallway. His voice was low, harsh, and trembling with rage. He pulled a torn, crumpled piece of paper from his pocket—a document he had managed to scoop up off the stairs before the paramedics carried Clowe out. It clearly listed a massive wire transfer from his late father-in-law's estate into a private offshore account owned by Victoria.
Mark: Explain this to me right now, Mom.
Victoria: That is private financial business that doesn't concern you!
Mark: You stole Clowe's entire trust fund! Millions of dollars!
Victoria: I built that company with her father while she did nothing!
Mark: You pushed her down those stairs because she caught you!
Victoria panicked, her face turning pale as she reached out to grab her son's arm. But Mark pulled away from her touch as if she were a venomous snake. He saw the cold truth in her eyes, the total lack of remorse for the young woman currently fighting for her life in the trauma bay. Victoria was only concerned about preserving her wealth, her mansion, and her high-society status. She began to adjust her coat, her voice shifting into a chilling, manipulative whisper.
Victoria: If I go down, Mark, the family business collapses completely.
Mark: You think I care about your blood money?
Victoria: Your future, your house, your wedding—I paid for all of it!
Mark: You paid for it with stolen money from a dead man!
Victoria: Choose your words very carefully, my son. Who will they believe?
Before Mark could reply, the doctor stepped out of Clowe's hospital room. Clowe had sustained two broken ribs, a severe concussion, and a fractured collarbone, but miraculously, her spine was intact. She was awake and demanding to speak to the police detectives immediately. Victoria tried to push past the doctor to enter the room first, but Mark stepped directly into her path, blocking the doorway with his broad shoulders and a look of absolute disgust on his face.