Chapter253 Stable for Now
Celeste stood to the side, staring at her grandfather's body on the floor.
For a brief moment, something close to panic crossed her face.
She had wanted to cause a scene. Shake things up. Take power. She had not planned for him to actually collapse.
But the panic lasted only a few seconds.
Her expression hardened back into something cold and flat.
She hadn't done anything wrong. Everything she said was true.
If he couldn't handle it, that was his problem. He was old. His heart was weak. And he had always loved Clifton far more than he had ever loved her.
Within five minutes, a medical team from the Prescott private hospital came sprinting down the corridor with a gurney.
Miranda moved on autopilot, following the medical team's instructions, helping lift him onto the stretcher.
In the chaos, she caught Mia's eye.
Mia gave a small nod.
Miranda looked away. She knew Mia would handle what needed handling.
The ambulance siren cut through the air as Miranda climbed in after the stretcher.
Outside the operating room, the corridor lights were a harsh, sterile white.
Miranda sat alone on a cold bench, and time stretched into something unrecognizable.
Every minute felt like an hour.
Clifton's fate still unknown. Now this.
The entire Prescott family felt like it was crumbling all at once.
She had no idea how long she sat there. Maybe an hour. Maybe longer. Until the red light above the operating room doors finally went dark.
"Doctor!"
Miranda shot to her feet. She stood up too fast and her vision went black for a moment. She steadied herself and crossed the hall quickly.
"My grandfather. How is he?"
The doctor pulled down his mask, his expression serious.
"Mr. Prescott suffered acute myocardial ischemia brought on by extreme emotional distress. That's what caused him to lose consciousness. We've stabilized him. He's out of immediate danger."
The tension in Miranda's chest loosened slightly.
Then the doctor continued, and it tightened right back up.
"However, given his age, his heart cannot withstand this kind of stress again. If it happens, we're looking at a full cardiac event. It could be fatal."
He looked at her directly.
"He needs to be admitted and kept completely calm for at least a month. No exceptions. No excitement. No bad news. Nothing that could set him off."
"Understood. Thank you, doctor."
Miranda nodded, watched him go, and then leaned back against the cold wall behind her.
Every last bit of strength seemed to drain out of her at once.
She closed her eyes. Celeste's voice from the boardroom played back in her head, every word soaked in deliberate cruelty.
When Miranda opened her eyes again, the warmth that usually lived there was gone.
--
That afternoon, in the VIP ward.
Miranda fed Mr. Prescott the last of the chicken broth, spoonful by spoonful, then sat with him and talked quietly until the medication pulled him back under and his breathing went slow and even.
Only then did she slip out of the room with her phone.
She called Mia the moment the door clicked shut.
"How bad is it at the company?"
Mia didn't sugarcoat it.
"Bad. What happened in the boardroom this morning got out. None of the directors have said anything openly yet, but they've started working their contacts behind the scenes. They're trying to find out what's going on with the Boss."
Miranda's stomach dropped a little further with every word.
She had known it was coming. Clifton was the one who ran everything. His disappearance was never going to stay contained for long. And now with Mr. Prescott hospitalized on top of it, the situation had become nearly impossible to manage.
She moved to the window and looked down at the street below.
"Mia, if Clifton stays missing and Mr. Prescott can't come back, how long can you hold the company together?"
She needed to know the worst case.
Mia was quiet for a moment, then answered with precision.
"There are twelve voting directors. Four of them were personally appointed by the Boss. They're completely loyal. Three are neutral. The remaining five are the old guard, the founding generation."
She paused.
"Two of those five have never accepted the Boss's leadership. They've always thought he was too young, too aggressive. They've been waiting for an opening."
Miranda's jaw tightened.
"Focus on locking down the four loyal ones first," she said. "Then work the middle three. Mr. Prescott needs at least a month to recover. That gives us a window. The dissenters won't move openly that fast."
"Got it."
Miranda ended the call, let out a long breath, and felt none of the tension leave her body.
She looked at the door to Mr. Prescott's room for a moment, then turned and walked out of the hospital.
--
She drove out to the edge of the city, past the point where the roads thinned and the buildings disappeared.
Her hands were damp on the wheel.
When the familiar black iron gate came into view, she hit the brakes hard. The tires shrieked against the pavement.
She was out of the car before it fully stopped, pushed through the heavy gate, and walked inside.
This was Clifton's training base. His team's home ground.
"Ma'am?"
The man standing guard at the entrance stared at her, clearly not expecting to see her here.
Miranda recognized him. One of Clifton's people.
She opened her mouth. The words were right there. But something caught in her throat.
She pressed through it.
"Is there any news?" Her voice came out unsteady. "About Clifton. Has anything come in?"
The man looked at her red-rimmed eyes, and something shifted in his expression.
He shook his head. Slow. Heavy.
"I didn't go out with the team this time. Old injury in my leg." His voice was low. "Word came back a few days ago that the Boss was ambushed during the mission and went overboard. The rest of the team is still out there searching. Nobody's come back yet."
The whole base was empty except for him.
The last small ember of hope Miranda had been holding onto went out.
"Okay," she said. Her voice was barely a sound. "If anything changes, please contact me right away."
"Of course." He nodded firmly. Then, unable to help himself: "Ma'am, don't lose hope. The Boss has made it through worse than this. He'll come back."
He'll come back.
Miranda held those words in her chest as she walked back to the car, and quietly prayed that they were true.