“We have the certified medical records from Methodist Hospital,” Julian said in his slow, deliberate legal monotone. “And the bank statements showing the Miami transactions. If we release the video, we must release these with it.”
Maya sat in the leather chair beside me, holding a blue folder of her own. Her voice was steady, though her face was still pale from the infection.
“We need to show the exact dollar amounts,” Maya said. “Fourteen thousand dollars stolen from our account while I was in the recovery room.”
“It proves intent,” Julian said, nodding slowly. “But once this is public, there is no pulling it back. Uncle Robert called me this morning from his office in Queens.”
I looked up at him. “What did Robert want?”
“He wants a family meeting,” Julian said. “He wants you to drop the grand larceny charges before the district attorney gets the full file on Mark.”
