Chapter254 Manipulation
Evening. The hospital.
The last of the sunlight came through the window in long amber strips, warming the room.
Miranda sat beside the bed, head down, carefully peeling an apple. The skin came off in one unbroken spiral, the knife turning in slow, even strokes.
Her phone rang.
Lisa.
Miranda looked at the screen and remembered. Governor Ava's project. The bid was tomorrow.
She finished the apple, cut it into clean slices, set a toothpick in each piece, and placed the plate on the table beside Mr. Prescott.
"Something sweet for you."
Then she stepped out into the corridor, pulled the door gently shut, and answered.
"Lisa."
"Miranda." Lisa's voice was crisp and efficient. "The government bid is tomorrow morning. I've cleared your schedule until noon."
"Good. You're coming with me."
"Already planned. Registration opens at nine-thirty, bidding runs from ten to twelve. I'll have everything ready to go."
"I'll meet you there. Don't forget the documentation."
"It's all handled."
Miranda slipped back into the room after hanging up. Before she could say a word, Mr. Prescott spoke first. His voice was still rough, but stronger than before.
"That project of yours. The government bid. That's tomorrow, isn't it?"
He looked at her steadily.
"Go home tonight and get some rest. The doctors are here. I'm not going anywhere."
"No." Miranda sat down beside him and kept her voice gentle but firm. "I'm staying tonight. The bid doesn't start until ten. I'll be there in the morning, and I'll come straight back the moment it's done."
Mr. Prescott studied her face for a long moment.
He hadn't expected this. He had collapsed, and the person who had stayed at his side all day, running back and forth, managing everything, wasn't his granddaughter.
It was his grandson's wife.
He nodded slowly.
"Alright."
--
Meanwhile, at Prescott Estate.
Only one lamp was on in the vast living room, casting a dim pool of light over the sofa.
Celeste sat curled up in the corner of it, eyes unfocused, staring at nothing.
After the scene that morning, after the medical team had rushed Mr. Prescott out on a stretcher, the emergency board meeting had dissolved on its own.
She had left the building with something uneasy sitting in her chest.
She had considered going to the hospital. She had stood outside the lobby for almost ten minutes, weighing it.
But then she remembered the look in her grandfather's eyes right before he went down, the fury and the betrayal, and her feet had carried her straight back home instead.
Her phone buzzed.
An encrypted message.
Celeste read it. Her expression shifted.
She typed back: Grandfather is in the hospital. I'm not in the right headspace for this right now.
The reply came quickly, and every word of it was carefully aimed.
This is exactly the moment. Clifton is missing. Prescott is out of commission. You are the only other person with a legitimate claim to this company. If you walk away now, you lose everything.
Then another message, right behind it.
The directors already know Clifton is gone. They're nervous. If no one steps up, someone else will make a move. You need to be the one who acts first.
Celeste stared at the screen.
She wasn't wrong to want this. The company needed someone at the helm. That was just the reality.
The guilt she had been carrying around all afternoon began to dissolve.
She sat up straighter.
Her fingers moved quickly across the screen.
Fine. Proceed as planned.
The reply came back in seconds.
OK.
--
The next morning, Miranda watched the doctor finish Mr. Prescott's routine check.
"Blood pressure is down from yesterday. Heart rate is stable. Both are good signs." The doctor looped his stethoscope back around his neck. "Keep the environment calm. No stress. No surprises. That's non-negotiable."
"Understood. Thank you."
Miranda stayed through breakfast, making sure he finished every bite of the bland, careful meal the kitchen had prepared. She only left when he had waved her off three times and told her, in no uncertain terms, to go.
She made him promise to have the nurse call her immediately if anything changed.
Then she drove to the bid.
Lisa was already waiting in the designated rest area when Miranda arrived, standing the moment she walked through the door.
"Two copies of the bid documentation, exactly as you asked. Nothing's been left out."
"Good." Miranda checked her watch. "We have an hour. Let's go through everything one more time."
They spent the next hour combing through every page, walking through the process in sequence, checking for anything that could go wrong.
By nine-thirty, the overhead speakers crackled to life, calling all representatives to prepare for entry.
Miranda and Lisa stood up together. When their eyes met, they both had the same look. Ready. Certain.
They were almost at the door when Miranda's phone went off at the coat check.
She stopped.
"Go ahead and get us checked in," she told Lisa, already turning back. "I'll be right there."
She grabbed the phone. It was Mia.
The call connected. Mia's voice came through before Miranda could say a word, and the urgency in it was unmistakable.
"We have a problem."
A beat.
"Celeste slipped past the people I had watching her. She's at the company right now. She just called an emergency shareholders meeting to open a discussion on new leadership for Prescott Group."
A pause.
"Can you come in?"