The Legal Fortress
By midday, Nate’s office on the forty-second floor of the Vance Financial Tower had turned into a command center.
Eleanor Ross, the city’s most formidable family and criminal attorney, laid out a stack of manila folders across the glass conference table.
"The initial lab reports came back from the state forensic unit," Eleanor said without preamble. "The IV bag contained trace amounts of potassium chloride and concentrated sedatives. If you had arrived ten minutes later, Emma would have suffered cardiac arrest, and it would have looked like sudden pediatric complication."
Nate closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. "Where is Lily now?"
"At her mother’s penthouse in the Upper East Side. She has already hired defense counsel, claiming she was suffering from severe postpartum-like anxiety and accidentally pushed the wrong buttons on the medical equipment." Eleanor leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "They’re going to play the mental health card, Nate. They will try to paint this as a tragic mistake by an overwhelmed stepmother."
"Not on my watch," Nate said, his voice hardening into resolve. "Open every financial record. Audit every prescription she’s picked up over the last eighteen months. Check her bank accounts, her browser history, everything. I want the world to see her for what she truly is."
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"And the divorce?" Eleanor asked.
"File it immediately on grounds of attempted murder and domestic terror," Nate replied coldly. "And petition the probate court to strip her name entirely from any beneficiary clause in every trust, deed, and policy."
