Grandpa's Nursing Home Abused Him, Now The Negligence Settlement Is My Wedding Gift

The threat of arrest hung in the air like smoke, but the siren wail cut through it. Arthur’s condition had deteriorated rapidly in the ten minutes Elena had been arguing with Thorne. Now, she sat in the back of the ambulance, holding her grandfather’s paper-thin hand. His wrist was swollen, purple and angry against his pale skin.

“Defensive fracture,” the paramedic muttered to the driver. “Looks like he put his hand up to stop something.”

Elena’s stomach violently twisted.

At the ER, chaos reigned. The doctors moved with urgency, shouting about severe dehydration and potential kidney failure. Elena stood in the corner, pressing her knuckles to her mouth to stifle a sob. She needed to report this. She needed elder abuse reporting protocols immediately.

Then, the double doors swung open.

Marcus Thorne strolled in, not like a concerned caretaker, but like he owned the building. He bypassed the nurse's station and went straight to the hospital administrator, shaking hands, laughing at a shared joke. The administrator nodded, glancing at Arthur’s chart and then making a mark with a red pen.

Elena lunged forward. “He’s lying! Look at the bruises!”

Thorne intercepted her before she reached the desk. He gripped her elbow, his fingers digging into the nerve. He steered her toward the vending machines, his smile never faltering for the onlookers.

“You’re hysterical, Elena. It’s grief. Very sad.”

“I’m suing you,” she hissed, pulling her arm free. “I’m going to bury you.”

Thorne leaned down, the scent of mint and money washing over her.

“With what money?” he whispered, his eyes void of any humanity. “Go ahead. File a complaint. I have four lawyers on retainer just for defamation lawsuit defense. If you sue, I’ll take the shirt off your back, the car you drive, and I’ll make sure you never work a day in this town again.”