“But,” I continued, voice sharper, colder now, “under no circumstances is he to receive a kidney transplant. Do you understand? Not now. Not ever.”
The nurse’s eyes widened in shock. “I—I’m sorry, but—”
“I said it,” I repeated, voice unwavering. “Pay me fully. But make sure that surgery never happens.”
The elevator doors slid open with a sharp ding, and before I could even glance up from my paperwork, my father stormed into the office. His footsteps were heavy, reverberating across the marble floors with an authority that made the room feel smaller.
My assistant trailed behind him, pale and anxious. “Ma’am, I—I tried to stop him—”
“It’s alright,” I said quickly, though a tight knot formed in my stomach.
My father’s glare landed on me immediately. “What is this I’m hearing?” His voice cut like ice. “You’re filing for divorce? Vivienne, where did this come from? Are you out of your mind?”
I rose slowly, adjusting my blazer, letting my posture declare my resolve. “No, Father. I’m finally sane.”