Semua Bab Too late, Ex. NOW WATCH ME RISE: Bab 31 - Bab 40

The St. Jude Private Recovery Pavilion did not look like a hospital. Located in a leafy, cobblestone neighborhood uptown, the building featured a limestone facade, a uniformed doorman, and a lobby scented with fresh lilies and expensive French lavender.Lillian walked through the glass doors wearing her casual wool coat over her civilian clothes, her nursing student badge clipped firmly to her collar. She felt entirely out of place among the leather armchairs and the soft classical music playing from hidden speakers.“Miss Harper?” a voice called out from the elevator bay.Evelyn Vance hurried forward. She was a slender woman in her late fifties, her elegant beige Chanel suit contrasting sharply with her red, swollen eyes. She reached out, grasping Lillian’s hands with an intensity that made Lillian startle slightly.“Thank you for coming,” Evelyn breathed, leading her toward the private elevator. “Arthur is furious that I called you. He says the Brooks family is trying to destroy our

The boardroom at Brooks Group headquarters had never been quiet at 9.am on a MondayThe lobby hallway was empty, the usual Lillian felt it the moment the elevator opened. The usual low huk of assistants, ringing phones, and brisk footsteps was gone. In its place was a different kind of silence- the kind that comes when people stop talking because the person they were talking about just arrivedThe elevator door opened slowly. Across lilian was Victoria Sloan was waiting for her at the glass doors, impeccable in charcoal suit, her expression unreadable. “They're ready,” Victoria said, without preamble.Leaning closer as she whispers “Arthur Vance is on video. Evelyn is sitting next to him.”She said alerting Lillian before they both got inside.Lillian clutched her canvas bag tighter. She was still in her nursing student uniform under her wool coat, her hair pulled back, no makeup. She had not slept.She held a corporate pamphlet alongside with a pen in her hands as her shoulders rai

The letter was slipped under her apartment door at 11:42p.m. Lilian walked through her door after she had struggled with the key nob, exhausted from the night shift, at the clinic. Lilian found out when she came home from her shift, she had felt an enormous amount of stress. Her feet aching from the hospital floor, her eyes burning from the fluorescent light. Her face was pale from the fake smiles she had displayed as a nurse during her shift.She took a deep sigh, feeling out of place, as scanned half scattered room. Items displayed, furniture, out of place.Below her feet, a plain white envelope, a fill slipped underneath her door. No stamp, just her name in the handwriting she knew too wellNathaniel's Lillian picked up the letter with her joints aching as she leaned toward the room's wooden floor.She had not been inside her own apartment for three days, crashing at Margaret's. The apartment was cold. Still smelled of antiseptics, pen inks with notes and text books, laying

Howard Greer was not what Lillian expected. She expected a tall , slick assistant in a suite. Like the corporate persons, she had been used to.. the man waiting on the bench in the central courtyard was small, in his late sixties, wearing a faded anorak, holding a supermarket carrier baglike it contained his entire life, like someone one sitting and waiting to catch a bus. Lillian sat on the bench with both her hands placed on her lap as she scanned the entire. “You took your time,” he said, not looking up as Lillian sat next to him, james hovering ten feet away like a guard dog.“You said you'd leave,” Lillian said. Her voice like “I lie a lot since Mr. Brooks died. It's a survival skill.” He finally looked at her. His eyes were red. “Yiu look like he said you would. Sensible.” “Dr. Ashton said you know who killed him,” Howard flinched. “I know someone used my access code. Only two people had the code to the private pharmacy account. Me and Mr. Brooks. And then…. Someone el

The emergency board meeting was already in session when Lillian pushed through the glass doors of Brooks Group headquarters, Adrian half-running behind her, Catherine Bentley having broken three speed limits to get there. She was still in her nursing scrubs. Her hair was still damp from the park. Lillian walked in, her steps carried a deliberate pomp The session were exclusively for the shares owners. She had not been invited. She did not have a security pass, not anymore. But the receptionist at the front desk took one look at her face and hit the button to open the turnstile without a word. News travels fast when a wife files a restraining order against a billionaire.One side the boardroom, Patricia Brooks was standing at the head of the table.Patricia was sixty-two, tall, her silver hair cut into a sharp Bob, her suit brutal, expensive navy. She had flown in from London that morning and she looked like she had never left. Like the estates still belonged to her like the comp