I sent our family group a photo of my daughter, pale after life-saving surgery. “She wants to see you,” I wrote.

The legal maneuvering began at blinding speed.

By noon, Marcus Vance had secured an emergency ex parte restraining order against Patricia and Scott Mercer, signed by a King County Superior Court judge. The order prohibited either of them from coming within 500 feet of Daniel, Lily, Harborview Medical Center, or Westbridge High School.

Furthermore, state financial investigators, tipped off by Marcus’s team, had placed a freeze on all accounts associated with Scott Mercer Holdings LLC and issued a subpoena for First National Bank's internal records.

However, Patricia and Scott were not going down without a fight. Driven by desperation and the impending ruin of their financial lives, they hired Arthur Pendelton—a high-priced, morally bankrupt defense attorney known throughout the Pacific Northwest for his brutal smear tactics in high-profile civil suits.

At 4:00 p.m., Pendelton held a surprise press conference on the steps of the King County Courthouse.

Standing beside a weeping Patricia, who wore a modest black dress and held a pristine white handkerchief, Pendelton addressed the gathered media microphones.

“My clients, Patricia and Scott Mercer, have been the victims of an unprecedented public lynching,” Pendelton announced, his booming voice designed for dramatic television soundbites. “What the public saw last night was a heavily edited, out-of-context snippet of a private family disagreement taken during a moment of intense emotional shock.”

A reporter scoffed loudly. “Mr. Pendelton, the screenshots showed Mrs. Mercer saying 'She lived, stop making her our problem'! How is that out of context?”

“Mrs. Mercer was suffering from a severe panic attack brought on by medical anxiety!” Pendelton lied without blinking. “She was referring to the overwhelming media circus, not her beloved granddaughter. Furthermore, we have reason to believe that Daniel Mercer is currently exploiting his daughter’s tragic accident for personal financial gain.”

The press gallery erupted in murmurs.

“Daniel Mercer has aligned himself with powerful political figures like Senator Rebecca Chase to isolate Lily from her loving grandmother,” Pendelton continued smoothly. “We are formally filing for emergency co-guardianship of seventeen-year-old Lily Mercer, as well as an emergency injunction to freeze all public donation funds being raised in Lily’s name until a court-appointed psychological evaluation of Daniel Mercer can be completed.”

Inside his hospital room, Daniel watched the broadcast on the mounted television screen. His hands trembled as he gripped the armrests of his chair.

“He’s going to try to paint you as unstable,” Marcus Vance said, standing by the window with a cell phone pressed to his ear. “Pendelton’s playbook is simple: mudslinging. He wants to make this so messy, so painful, and so public that you’ll agree to a quiet settlement just to protect Lily from the drama.”

“Settlement?” Daniel looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “What settlement could they possibly want?”

“Control,” Marcus said, turning around. “If they get co-guardianship, they regain access to the family trusts, they gain control over the life insurance policies, and most importantly, they gain control over the lucrative book and movie rights that studios are already offering for Lily’s heroic story. They are bankrupt, Daniel. They see your daughter as a golden ticket out of debt.”

Lily sat up in bed, her face pale but her eyes sharp with anger. “They can’t do that, can they? I’m seventeen! I can speak for myself!”

“In Washington State, a minor’s voice carries heavy weight in guardianship hearings,” Marcus reassured her gentle tone. “But Pendelton is going to argue that you are traumatized, brainwashed by your father, and incapable of making sound decisions due to oxygen deprivation from the aneurysm.”

“That sick bastard,” Daniel spat.

Suddenly, Daniel’s phone buzzed with an incoming text from an unknown number. He opened it to find a video clip.

He hit play. The footage was grainy, recorded secretly inside a dimly lit restaurant booth two nights ago—the night before the explosion.

In the video, Scott Mercer sat across from a shady man in a leather jacket. Scott’s voice was crystal clear: “Look, my mother will sign off on the trust liquidation. Daniel trusts her. Once we get the two hundred grand from Lily’s fund, we pay off the offshore accounts, buy the property in Idaho, and leave Daniel holding the bag. He’s too stupid to ever check the bank statements anyway.”

Daniel stared at the screen, his breath catching in his throat.

Below the video, a text message appeared from Melissa—Scott’s estranged wife:

“I took this video three days ago because I knew he was cheating on me and stealing. I didn't know he was going to steal from Lily. I’m tired of hiding their garbage. Use this to put them in prison.”

Daniel looked up at Marcus, handing him the phone. “Will this stop Pendelton?”