Too Late For Regret: The Surgeon Heiress

The next morning, Areli walked stiffly but resolutely through the heavy glass doors of the top-tier Manhattan law firm. She was wearing a sharply tailored, black Tom Ford suit. The fabric moved perfectly with her measured strides. Her sleek, flat loafers moved with a measured, careful rhythm against the polished marble floor. She walked straight into the main conference room. She pulled out the large leather chair at the head of the long mahogany table and sat down, her back remaining as straight as a blade. Courtland and his executive assistant, Marcus, were already sitting on the opposite side of the table. Courtland looked up. His eyes widened slightly as he took in her expensive suit and the rigid, almost unnatural perfection of her posture. A second later, his expression hardened into a cold, arrogant sneer. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He was waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to beg. Areli did not say a word. Ignoring the dull, numbing throb at the base of her spine, she opened her slim leather briefcase and pulled out a single, thick document. She placed her hand flat on the document and pushed it hard. The paper slid across the smooth, polished wood of the table, heading straight for Courtland. Marcus reached out quickly. He stopped the sliding document with his hand and pushed it directly in front of Courtland. Courtland flipped open the heavy cover page. He scanned the text. It was a formal declaration waiving all rights to their prenuptial agreement. His eyes dropped to the section labeled 'Alimony Settlement'. The number printed on the line was exactly zero dollars. Courtland's jaw tightened. He glared across the table at her. He was absolutely certain this was a pathetic negotiation tactic. "Stop playing these stupid psychological games," Courtland sneered. "It won't work on me." Areli reached into her jacket pocket. She pulled out a heavy Montblanc fountain pen. She uncapped it, leaned forward carefully, and signed her name on the bottom line with slow, heavy, and aggressive strokes. She placed the pen on the center of the table. She tapped her index finger on the wood, signaling for him to sign. Courtland stared at her eyes. There was no hesitation, no sorrow, no lingering attachment. His chest suddenly felt tight, a strange squeezing sensation hitting his ribs. He shifted in his chair. A wave of hot, uncomfortable irritation washed over him. Things were not going the way he had planned. Marcus leaned in close to Courtland's shoulder. "Sir," Marcus whispered, his voice low. "Legally, this is the best possible outcome for the company." Courtland ground his teeth together. He snatched the pen off the table. He pressed the nib down hard and signed his name, nearly tearing the paper. Areli's lawyer immediately stepped forward. He pulled the document away from Courtland to officially notarize the signatures. Areli stood up with controlled, steady movements. She reached down and buttoned the center button of her suit jacket, preparing to leave. Courtland suddenly pushed his chair back and stood up. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. He slammed a pre-written check down onto the wooden table. The number written on it was five million dollars. "Take the money," Courtland said. His voice was loud, dripping with condescending pity. "Don't starve to death on the streets." Areli stopped walking. She slowly turned her head and looked down at the rectangular piece of paper resting on the wood. She reached out. She used only her index and middle fingers to pinch the edge of the check and lift it off the table. Courtland's lips curved up into a triumphant, arrogant smile. He was sure she had finally broken down and accepted his charity. Areli held the check up between them. She grabbed the other side with her left hand and ripped the thick paper straight down the middle. She let the torn pieces of paper fall from her fingers. They fluttered down and landed directly in front of Courtland on the table. The smile on Courtland's face vanished instantly. His skin flushed dark red with sudden, explosive anger. Areli turned around. She walked out of the conference room with the same measured, rigid grace without looking back, leaving Courtland standing there, staring at the torn paper in complete disbelief.