Chapter 16 - Two and a Half Million Dollars
Nia forced Maya to listen to the entire offer.
“Refusing before understanding terms is emotionally satisfying and strategically stupid,” she said.
Maya sat in the attorney’s conference room with Claire.
Jordan and his parents were present because Meridian South’s proposed settlement covered their related claims too.
Nia summarized.
Two and a half million dollars to Maya through a court-approved minor settlement structure.
Seven hundred fifty thousand to the Mitchell parents.
Confidentiality.
No admission of wrongdoing.
Withdrawal of requests seeking unrestricted legacy records.
A private correction process for Maya’s medical history.
Payment of legal fees.
Jordan stared at the numbers.
“That’s more money than anyone in my family has ever seen.”
Mr. Mitchell looked at him.
“That cannot decide this.”
Jordan laughed quietly.
“You said that seventeen years too late.”
His father accepted the blow.
Maya looked at Nia.
“What happens if we reject it?”
“We litigate.”
“How long?”
“Potentially years.”
“Could we lose?”
“Yes.”
“Could the records stay sealed?”
“Some will remain protected regardless. Medical and adoption records aren’t automatically public simply because the hospital behaved badly.”
Maya nodded.
“I don’t need strangers reading my childhood.”
“Good.”
“I need the truth established.”
Nia leaned back.
“What does that mean specifically?”
Maya had thought about it.
“A court finding that I was born Maya Mitchell.”
Claire’s expression shifted.
Maya noticed.
“I’m not changing my last name.”
Claire relaxed.
“Renee was my mother.”
Maya continued.
“I want her cleared of any suggestion that she knowingly took me.”
Nia nodded.
“What else?”
“I want my biological parents’ signatures corrected. I want the hospital to admit the discharge error. I want an independent review of every infant placement case handled by the same people.”
Mr. Mitchell stared.
“That could involve other families.”
“Exactly.”
Jordan asked, “What about money?”
Maya looked at him.
“I’m not saying no money.”
Everyone seemed surprised.
She shrugged.
“What? They owe me.”
Jordan almost smiled.
“But money doesn’t buy secrecy.”
Nia nodded approvingly.
“That is a negotiating position.”
Mrs. Mitchell said, “What about Marcus and me?”
“You decide your own claim.”
Mr. Mitchell looked at his wife.
“We reject confidentiality.”
Mrs. Mitchell nodded.
“We reject silence.”
Nia made notes.
Jordan asked, “Do I have a claim?”
“You suffered emotional harm, but you were not the direct patient and weren’t alive as an independent legal actor in any meaningful way beyond being a newborn sibling. I’m not building this around you.”
“Good.”
Maya looked at him.
“You sound relieved.”
“I don’t want money for discovering I have a sister.”
She tilted her head.
“You want the college account gone.”
Jordan looked down.
“Yes.”
Mr. Mitchell spoke.
“I can replace it.”
“With what?”
“My retirement.”
“No.”
“Jordan—”
“No.”
Jordan turned toward Maya.
“You were right. Destroying my future doesn’t fix yours.”
She smiled slightly.
“Look at you learning.”
He ignored the tease.
“But I can’t use that money without knowing what it is.”
Nia intervened.
“Money is fungible.”
Jordan frowned.
“In English?”
“The original thirty thousand isn’t sitting in a separate moral container after seventeen years. Your parents contributed later. Investments grew. Household finances mixed.”
“So what do I do?”
“You decide what your education means to you rather than pretending suffering can be mathematically purified.”
That answer irritated him because it made sense.
The mediation lasted four hours.
Meridian South sent three attorneys and an insurance representative.
Elaine Mercer did not attend.
Their lead counsel, Thomas Avery, repeatedly described the events as “historic administrative irregularities.”
Maya finally interrupted.
“Was I an irregularity?”
Avery paused.
“No.”
“Then stop using words that make people disappear.”
The mediator hid a smile.
Later Avery offered three million.
Still confidential.
Maya refused.
Four million.
Still confidential.
Mr. Mitchell looked at Maya.
She shook her head.
Avery sighed.
“What exactly does your client want?”
Nia slid a written proposal across the table.
“Accountability.”
Avery read.
Independent forensic examination of legacy records.
Correction of false parental documents.
Written acknowledgment of erroneous infant discharge.
Preservation of Renee Bennett’s legal and parental reputation.
Funding for independent review.
No restriction preventing the family from discussing their own experiences.
Financial damages to be negotiated separately.
Avery looked stunned.
“You are asking the health system to create a roadmap for lawsuits.”
Nia replied, “I’m asking the health system not to conceal evidence.”
The mediation ended without agreement.
Outside, Maya breathed cold evening air.
Jordan stood beside her.
“You just rejected four million dollars.”
“So did you.”
“I didn’t get a vote.”
“You would have.”
He smiled.
Then his expression changed.
A black sedan was parked across the street.
The driver raised a phone.
Jordan immediately pulled out his own.
The sedan drove away.
This time they captured the license plate.
Nia sent it to the investigator.
Twenty minutes later he called.
The car was registered to a private investigations company.
Its client was confidential.
But the company’s website listed one major health-care client in its promotional materials.
Meridian South Health.
Nia’s face hardened.
“They may claim legitimate litigation surveillance.”
Maya stared after the vanished car.
Jordan said, “Photographing minors outside mediation feels legitimate?”
“No,” Nia replied. “It feels stupid.”
Her phone rang again.
She answered.
Listened.
Then looked at Maya.
“The archive server exists.”
Maya’s heart jumped.
“Samuel Cho was right?”
“Yes.”
“And the hospital has it?”
Nia’s expression turned grim.
“They say it was scheduled for destruction last week.”
Jordan stared.
“After our preservation demand?”
“Yes.”
“Was it destroyed?”
Nia looked toward the courthouse several blocks away.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“An IT employee refused the order.”
Maya whispered, “Who?”
“Lila Green.”
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Nia grabbed her briefcase.
“And she wants to testify Monday.”
