Chapter 8 - The Legal Wall
The strategy meeting in the Vane & Sterling executive boardroom on Friday morning was less of a corporate review and more of a military tribunal.
Grace sat at the end of the long mahogany table, wearing a simple black turtleneck and her thrift-store wool coat, while three senior corporate attorneys and the firm’s head of security reviewed a thick manila dossier spread across the polished wood.
Nathan sat at the head of the table, his shirtsleeves rolled up, looking like a man who had spent the entire night tearing legal code apart.
"We have three distinct angles," lead counsel Marcus Vance (no relation to the stalker, much to Grace's relief) announced, pushing his glasses up his nose. "First, we file an immediate, emergency civil protection order in Cook County Circuit Court, citing documented history of harassment across state lines. Second, our private security firm has already established 24-hour monitoring around Miss Holloway's apartment building and the bookstore. Third—and most importantly—if Marcus so much as steps within five hundred feet of her or her place of business, we trigger an expedited federal injunction for interstate stalking."
Grace looked down at the documents, her chest tightening. "And the book? Does this mean we have to delay the launch?"
Nathan looked up from his side of the table, his eyes locking onto hers. "The book launches on schedule. Hardcovers hit shelves in March. We aren't hiding your name, Grace. We are daring him to test us."
"Nathan's right," the head of security added, sliding a secure smartphone across the table toward her. "This phone has a direct, encrypted panic button linked to our dispatch. If Marcus shows his face anywhere near you, press that button, and our team will be on site before he finishes drawing his next breath."
Grace picked up the phone, turning the heavy, matte-black device over in her hands. It felt heavy—real, tangible proof that she wasn't alone anymore, that the walls she had built around herself weren't made of paper anymore.
When the meeting adjourned, the attorneys filed out of the room one by one, leaving Grace and Nathan alone in the quiet expanse of the executive office.
Nathan walked around the table, stopping beside her chair. He reached down, gently taking the encrypted phone out of her hand and setting it aside, replacing it with his own hand.
"Are you holding up?" he asked softly, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.
Grace leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a brief second as the accumulated exhaustion of the last forty-eight hours finally washed over her. "I spent six years looking over my shoulder, Nathan. Every time a door slammed, every time someone called my name on the street, I expected him to be there."
"He's not going to touch you," Nathan said, his voice dropping into a low, fierce vow. "I promised you that last night, and I mean it."
May you like
Grace opened her eyes, looking up at him with a quiet, fierce clarity that matched his own. She reached up, her fingers resting lightly against the crisp cotton of his shirt collar.
"I know," she whispered. "For the first time in my life... I actually believe you."
