The cold stone wall pressed hard against Lucia’s spine. Her breath caught in her throat as the rhythmic clicking of shoes drew closer along the narrow service corridor.

The second-floor executive boardroom of Moretti Enterprises’ Manhattan headquarters was designed to intimidate. Dark mahogany paneling, towering floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hudson River, and a massive oval conference table surrounded by leather chairs filled the space.

At precisely 12:00 PM, the heavy oak doors opened.

Gaetano Moretti strode into the room, flanked by two corporate lawyers and Dr. Vance Sterling, a high-priced forensic psychiatrist known for writing whatever medical diagnosis his clients paid for.

Enzo sat at the head of the table. To his right sat Lucia, dressed in her professional black-and-charcoal attire, holding a digital tablet containing Alfonso’s complete biometric logs.

“This is highly irregular,” Gaetano barked, pulling out a chair opposite Enzo. “An emergency board meeting called by a proxy, and you’ve brought an unauthorized civilian into a restricted corporate proceeding?”

“Ms. Walsh is my chief of staff and my grandfather’s primary medical liaison,” Enzo replied evenly, not blinking. “Her presence is entirely authorized.”

Gaetano sneered, casting a dismissive glance at Lucia. “A nurse acting as a corporate liaison. How desperate has the great Enzo Moretti become? Are we taking medical advice from the help now?”

Lucia kept her face completely neutral, remembering every harsh evaluation from her years in underfunded emergency rooms. Men like Gaetano relied on condescension to rattle their opponents. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

“Dr. Sterling is here to perform an independent mental competency evaluation on Alfonso Moretti,” one of Gaetano’s lawyers announced, sliding a court petition across the mahogany table. “Per section nine of the corporate charter, if the patriarch is deemed unfit, executive control reverts to the senior board committee—headed by Mr. Gaetano Moretti.”

Dr. Sterling adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, picking up his clipboard. “I have a court order allowing me immediate access to the private suite to examine the patient.”

Enzo didn’t flinch. He looked at Lucia.

Lucia stood up, her posture rigid, her voice clear and steady as it cut through the murmurs of the boardroom.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for,” Lucia said.

Dr. Sterling frowned. “Excuse me, young lady?”

“Dr. Sterling, your reputation precedes you,” Lucia said, stepping toward the table and tapping her tablet. “You’ve testified in twelve corporate takeover cases over the last decade. In eleven of them, your diagnosis matched the financial interests of the firm paying your retainer fee.”

Gaetano slammed his hand on the table. “Insolent little—!”

“Quiet, Gaetano,” Enzo commanded softly, his voice slicing through the room like a razor. “Let her speak.”

Lucia continued, unfazed by the outburst. “Mr. Moretti’s heart condition is real, and his physical mobility is impaired. But his cognitive functions are fully intact. Furthermore, under New York medical privacy statutes, any independent psychiatric evaluation requested by an estranged third-party family member requires a seventy-two-hour notice and a signed authorization from the patient’s legal proxy—which happens to be Enzo Moretti.”

She slid a document across the table toward Dr. Sterling.

“Dr. Sterling, if you step foot in that penthouse without that authorization, my legal team will file an immediate motion for license revocation with the state medical board before you reach the elevator.”

Dr. Sterling looked down at the injunction papers, then glanced nervously at Gaetano. The forensic psychiatrist slowly closed his clipboard, sliding it back into his briefcase.

“I advise my client that jurisdictional hurdles make this evaluation... unfeasible at this time,” Dr. Sterling muttered, standing up and buttoning his jacket.

“You coward!” Gaetano hissed at him.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Enzo announced, standing tall at the head of the table. He looked directly across at his uncle. “Tell your buyers to pull their bids, Gaetano. You’ve lost.”