It was the afternoon of the following day.
The heels of Evelyn's black stilettos clicked sharply against the polished marble floor of Mount Sinai Hospital. Bianca followed a half-step behind, her expression a mask of professional calm.
"Dr. Price is on his way to Ms. Foley's private wing for the consultation," Bianca murmured, her voice low.
A humorless smile touched Evelyn's lips. "Not anymore."
She quickened her pace, rounding a corner and positioning herself directly in the path of Dr. Price and his team of specialists. They stopped, their expressions a mixture of surprise and confusion.
Dr. Price, a man whose time was billed in four-figure increments, opened his mouth to greet her. Evelyn raised a hand, cutting him off before he could speak.
She handed him a file folder. Inside was a directive, stamped with the official seal of the Donaldson Family Medical Foundation.
"There's been a change of plans, Doctor," Evelyn said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You and your team are needed in the penthouse suite. Arthur Donaldson is experiencing acute heart failure."
Dr. Price's face creased with concern and conflict. "Mrs. Donaldson, I understand the gravity of the situation, but Ms. Foley's hematological condition also requires immediate assessment. Mr. Donaldson's orders were quite specific."
Evelyn took a step closer, her gaze as sharp and cold as a scalpel. "And the funding for your entire department, Doctor, is approved with my signature. That makes me the final decision-maker. Arthur's life is not negotiable."
The authority in her voice was absolute. The doctor's professional hesitation crumbled under the weight of it. He gave a curt nod, turned to his team, and redirected them toward the VIP elevators.
Evelyn watched the elevator doors slide shut, the tense line of her jaw relaxing fractionally. She turned to leave.
She had just reached the main lobby when a figure stormed toward her, his face a thundercloud of fury. Julian.
He grabbed her wrist, his grip brutally tight. She could feel his fingers digging into the delicate bones.
"Are you insane?" he snarled, his voice a low, vicious growl. "What the hell do you think you're doing, pulling Seraphina's doctor?"
Evelyn looked down at the hand encircling her wrist, then back up at his face. She didn't struggle. "Let go, Julian."
He didn't. He pulled her closer, the scent of stale anger and expensive cologne filling the space between them. "If anything happens to her, I swear to God, Evelyn, I will make you regret it."
A laugh, dry and brittle, escaped her lips. "And if anything happens to your grandfather, the patriarch of this family, can you bear that responsibility?"
Julian flinched, his righteous anger faltering for a split second. "We can get another doctor for Grandpa."
"But you can't get another Dr. Price for Seraphina, can you?" Evelyn said, yanking her arm free. She rubbed the red marks on her wrist, creating a safe distance between them.
She looked him directly in the eye. "You disgust me."
The words hit their mark. His face contorted with rage. "You've become cold, Evelyn. Vicious. This isn't the woman I married."
"The woman you married is gone," she replied, her voice flat. She reached into her Hermès bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers, slapping them against his chest.
The documents scattered, fluttering to the pristine hospital floor. At the top of the pile, in bold, black letters, were the words: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.
Julian's gaze dropped to the papers. His pupils contracted, and his head snapped up, his expression one of pure, disbelieving shock.
Evelyn crossed her arms, her posture radiating an unassailable calm. "I want two hundred million dollars in cash and full, sole custody of Scarlett."
He stared at her, then let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "You're dreaming. The Donaldson lawyers will tear you apart. You'll walk away with nothing."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't forget who cleaned up the books for Donaldson Corp. before the first IPO. Don't forget whose trust fund provided the bridge loan that the SEC never knew about."
The color drained from Julian's face. It was his deepest, most carefully guarded corporate secret. A secret he thought only he and his father knew. He had never imagined she'd kept records.
A passing nurse glanced their way, her curiosity piqued. Julian, ever conscious of his public image, lowered his voice. "Don't play with fire, Evelyn."
She slid a pair of dark sunglasses onto her face, hiding the icy contempt in her eyes.
"I'll see you in court."
She turned and walked out through the revolving doors, leaving him standing amidst the scattered ruins of their marriage, his face a mask of impotent fury.
