Chapter 4 - The Golden Heir Falls
The VIP lounge instantly descended into chaos.
"Julian! Julian, look at me!" Graham screamed, dropping to his knees, his polished facade shattering into pieces.
Security guards froze, paralyzed by panic.
Logan’s medical training took over before his personal resentment could interfere.
"Move back!" Logan commanded with an authority that shook the room.
Logan dropped beside the young man, turning Julian onto his side to protect his airway.
Julian’s skin was already turning an alarming shade of ashen gray.
Logan pressed two fingers against Julian’s carotid artery.
The pulse was dangerously rapid, thread-thin, and erratic.
Logan peeled back Julian’s left eyelid and checked his pupil response with a pocket penlight.
The left pupil was blown wide open, completely unresponsive to light.
"Call a code blue in neuro-ICU right now!" Logan roared at his assistant standing at the door.
"Get a mobile gurney and prep room four for an immediate CT angiogram!"
The assistant scrambled away down the hallway.
Graham grabbed Logan’s sleeve with shaking, sweat-slicked fingers.
"What's wrong with him? He was completely fine ten minutes ago! What is happening to my son?"
Logan ripped his arm free from Graham's grip.
"Your son has a catastrophic intracranial hemorrhage," Logan said, his tone razor-sharp.
"An arteriovenous malformation in his brain just ruptured."
"If we don't relieve the cranial pressure in fifteen minutes, he will be brain-dead before dinner."
The medical team burst through the double doors with a stretcher.
Within seconds, Julian was strapped down and rushed toward the elevators.
Graham ran alongside the gurney, his tailored jacket falling off his shoulders, tears of terror running down his wrinkled face.
Logan followed, his mind calculating surgical angles, vessel clamps, and blood loss rates.
This was the golden boy.
This was the son who got the pristine nursery, the trust funds, and the parents' warm embrace.
Now, Julian’s life hung by a microscopic thread, and that thread was resting squarely in Logan's hands.
As the elevator doors slid shut toward the surgical wing, Graham desperately tried to follow.
Logan put a hand against the steel door frame, stopping the older man cold.
"You stay here, Mr. Sterling."
"I am coming with him! He is my only child!" Graham sobbed hysterically.
Logan stared at Graham with eyes like black ice.
"Your only child?" Logan repeated softly under his breath, a terrible chill in his words.
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"Pray that my hands don't shake, Mr. Sterling."
The heavy metal doors slammed shut in Graham’s face.
