My Delicate Wife Is A Medical Genius

"Sign it."

The thick stack of paper hit the mahogany desk with a sharp smack. It slid across the polished wood, stopping a fraction of an inch from Diana's fingertips.

Diana kept her eyes lowered. Her right thumb moved automatically, rubbing the rough edge of her cotton sleeve. The air in the study was heavy, smelling of expensive cigar smoke and the sharp tang of desperation.

"Don't just stand there looking stupid," Brenda said. She sat on the leather sofa, her manicured nails tapping a relentless rhythm against her porcelain teacup. "You marrying into the Vanderbilt family is a blessing you don't deserve. It saves us the trouble of looking at you."

Cornie hovered behind her mother's shoulder. She twisted the hem of her designer skirt, her eyes wide and shining with manufactured pity. "It's so sad that my sister has to marry a dying man. If only I could take her place."

Haskell slammed his palm flat against the desk. The gold pen rolled near the edge but stopped just short of falling. "Shut up, Cornie. Vanderbilt specifically asked for the legitimate daughter. It's for their PR image."

Diana stopped rubbing her sleeve. She raised her head slowly, looking directly into Haskell's bloodshot eyes.

"If I sign this," Diana said, her voice completely flat, "the Hutchinson Group gets the three hundred million dollar capital injection. Is that correct?"

Haskell's chest heaved. He leaned forward, planting his knuckles on the desk. "Yes. And I'll make sure you get a decent dowry out of it."

Diana ignored the gold pen on the desk and pulled a cheap pen from her own pocket, holding it poised over the paper. The message was clear: she played by her own rules. A drop of black ink gathered at the tip, hovering just above the paper.

She didn't lower it.

"I have one condition," Diana said.

Haskell's neck turned a mottled red. The veins at his temples pulsed. "We don't have time for your games. Vanderbilt is waiting."

"Don't push your luck, you little backwoods nobody," Brenda snapped, the teacup rattling against its saucer.

Diana placed the pen down on the desk. The soft click echoed in the silent room.

"My condition is absolute," Diana said. "If you refuse, I will walk into the nearest courthouse and file a public lawsuit detailing exactly how you 'found' me. I imagine the Hutchinson stock will tank before the market even opens."

The room went dead silent. Cornie took a rapid step backward, her grip on her skirt tightening until her knuckles turned white.

Diana smoothed the front of her cheap jacket. She turned her body toward the heavy oak door. "If we have no deal, I'll go pack my bags."

Her hand closed over the cold brass doorknob.

"Stop." The word tore out of Haskell's throat, sounding like grinding stones.

Diana turned her head. She kept her hand on the knob. She didn't smile.

"What do you want?" Haskell forced the words out.

Diana raised three fingers. "First, the Vanderbilt funds must clear. Second, you will sign a strict Non-Disclosure Agreement. Third, you will sign a legal document severing all familial ties with me. Permanently."

Brenda gasped, spilling hot tea onto her lap. She didn't even flinch.

Haskell shot up from his chair. The heavy leather seat tipped backward and crashed to the floor. "You ungrateful bitch! You want to cut ties with your own blood?"

"You put a price tag on me first," Diana said, her tone as even as if she were discussing the weather. "A transaction requires fair terms."

Brenda stood up, her voice trembling. "We are your family, Diana. Blood is thicker than water."

Diana looked at Brenda. Her gaze was completely empty. "If Cornie were the one being sold to a dying man, would your blood still be this thick?"

Cornie shrank back, pressing herself against the bookshelf.

Haskell stared at Diana. His chest rose and fell in jagged breaths. He looked at the bankruptcy notices piled on the corner of his desk. He slowly bent down, righted his chair, and sat back heavily.

Diana walked back to the desk. She unzipped her worn canvas bag and pulled out a crisp, neatly folded stack of legal documents. She silently thanked the small-town lawyer she had paid with her last two hundred dollars to draft these before she ever set foot in New York. She slid them across the mahogany, right over the marriage agreement.

Haskell snatched up his gold pen. His hand shook so violently the tip scratched the paper before he even began writing. He pressed down hard, carving his signature into the severance document.

Diana picked up the signed paper. She folded it precisely along the creases and slid it into her inner jacket pocket. She patted the fabric once.

Then, she picked up her cheap pen. Without a second of hesitation, she signed her name on the Vanderbilt marriage intent agreement. The ink flowed smoothly.

"Get out," Haskell spat, his eyes fixed on the desk. "Once you walk through that door, you are dead to us."

Diana turned around. She walked to the door, pulled it open, and stepped out into the hallway.