The Woman at the Head of the Table
“Fetch my phone from the locker,” I said flatly.
She placed it in my good hand and retreated. Ignoring a barrage of empty check-in texts, I dialed Arthur Miller—a lethal senior partner at a top Manhattan firm, specializing in high-net-worth divorces.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Arthur. It’s Elena.” I enunciated every syllable. “Draft a divorce settlement. Three non-negotiable terms. One: I take all marital assets. He’s been funneling kickbacks from medical-device reps into offshore accounts—use that trail to leverage him.
Two: he leaves with nothing. Three: his medical license, permanently revoked. Total professional annihilation. All of it lawful, all of it airtight.”
Arthur was a shark who thrived on blood in the water. He heard the weakness in my lungs, but he also heard the scorched-earth resolve underneath it. “Consider it done, Dr. Vance.