Chapter 3 - The Summons
Three days had passed since Nathan Brooks had strutted out of Emily’s hospital room, his arm wrapped around Vanessa Reed, convinced he had pulled off the ultimate clean break. During those seventy-two hours, Emily had been discharged from NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, moving with her newborn triplets into a private, ultra-luxury penthouse suite overlooking Central Park—owned, of course, by a private holding company managed through Harrington Global.
Nathan sat at his sprawling mahogany desk on the forty-fifth floor of the Midtown Manhattan office tower housing Brooks & Sterling LLP. The corner office offered a breathtaking view of the city, a visual reminder of his station in life. He was a rising star in corporate litigation, a man who commanded high fees, wore bespoke suits, and surrounded himself with the finest things money could buy.
And now, he was officially rid of dead weight.
The door to his office swung open without a knock. Vanessa stepped inside, her high heels clicking sharply against the polished hardwood floor. She was wearing a crimson Chanel dress that hugged her frame, carrying a fresh iced macchiato in one hand and her signature black Hermès Birkin in the other.
"Darling," Vanessa purred, walking around the desk and leaning down to drop a kiss on Nathan’s cheek. "You look tense. Still thinking about the charity event this Friday? Don't worry, the committee already accepted my name as your official plus-one. Emily is old news."
Nathan smiled, leaning back in his executive leather chair and interlocking his fingers behind his head.
"I’m not worried about the charity gala, Vane. I’m just thinking about how smoothly everything went with the house transfer. My contacts at the registry office cleared the title update in record time. By the end of the week, that modest little property will be completely absorbed into your portfolio, and Emily won't even have enough cash to pay a public defender for a custody hearing, let alone hire a real estate attorney."
"She brought it on herself," Vanessa said, sitting on the corner of his desk and crossing her legs. "A woman who lets herself go like that deserves nothing. By the way, my designer friend in Paris sent me the catalog for the fall collection. I'm thinking we should celebrate our new chapter with a little trip to Europe next month."
Before Nathan could answer, a sharp, urgent knock rattled his office door.
Before he could grant permission, the door pushed open. It wasn't his secretary, Sarah.
It was Robert Sterling, the senior name partner of the firm—a man whose mere presence usually brought associate lawyers to a cold sweat. Robert looked incandescent with rage. His face was flushed, a thick manila folder clutched so tightly in his fist that the cardboard was bending.
"Nathan," Robert barked, his voice echoing off the glass walls. "What the hell have you done?"
Nathan stood up instantly, smoothing down his navy tie with a nervous chuckle. "Robert? What’s wrong? Is there an issue with the Meridian Corp litigation?"
"Forget Meridian Corp!" Robert roared, slamming the manila folder down onto the center of Nathan's pristine desk. Papers scattered across the polished wood. "Look at this! Explain to me right now why the New York State Supreme Court just slapped our firm with an emergency civil injunction and a freezing order on our primary operational accounts!"
Nathan’s smile vanished. He stepped forward, his eyes darting across the top page of the legal document.
SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK – COUNTY OF NEW YORK. CASE NO: 2026-CV-48912. EMILY HARRINGTON-BROOKS VS. NATHAN BROOKS.
Nathan froze.
"Harrington?" Nathan muttered, his brain struggling to process the double-barreled surname. "That... that has to be a clerical error. Her maiden name is Carter. Emily Carter."
"Carter?" Robert snarled, stepping close enough for Nathan to smell his mint-scented breath. "You absolute fool! Do you have any idea who you married? Do you know whose signature you forged on that property transfer?"
Vanessa frowned, sliding off the desk. "Robert, what are you talking about? Emily is just some middle-class nobody from Ohio—"
"Quiet!" Robert snapped at Vanessa, turning his fury back toward Nathan. "The woman you handed forged divorce papers to in a hospital room three days ago is Emily Harrington. The sole granddaughter of William Harrington. Founder of Harrington Global. The man who owns half the commercial real estate, shipping ports, and private healthcare networks in the Northeast corridor!"
The air seemed to vanish from Nathan's lungs.
His knees buckled slightly, forcing him to grip the edge of his desk for support. "William... Harrington? No. That's impossible. Emily drove a modest Honda Civic. She lived in a standard suburban house before we bought our place. She worked as a freelance graphic designer. She didn't have bodyguards, she didn't wear million-dollar jewelry—"
"She didn't want a gold-digger!" Robert yelled, his face dark with panic. "She wanted a normal life, and you took that and pissed all over it while she was recovering from a C-section carrying your three children! And not only did you treat an heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire like trash, but you used our firm's operating accounts to fund an illegal property transfer under a fabricated signature—which means you committed mortgage fraud and forgery under the letterhead of Brooks & Sterling!"
Nathan stared at the papers, his mind racing into total chaos. The pieces suddenly snapped together with terrifying clarity: the quiet confidence Emily had maintained while staring at the divorce papers; the calm way she had set down the pen; the absolute lack of panic in her eyes.
She hadn't been defeated.
She had been watching him walk straight into a woodchipper of his own making.
"Call her," Robert commanded, his voice trembling with desperation. "Call William Harrington's office immediately. Beg for a settlement. Because if Harrington Global decides to bury this firm, we won't just lose our licenses—we'll be spending the next ten years sharing a cell in Rikers Island."
Nathan reached for his phone with shaking fingers, his mouth dry, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Before he could even unlock the screen, his phone buzzed violently in his palm.
An incoming call from an unknown, encrypted number.
Nathan swallowed hard, pressed the accept button, and held the phone to his ear.
"N-Nathan Brooks speaking," he stammered, all his corporate swagger completely evaporated.
A cool, smooth, terrifyingly calm voice echoed through the speaker.
May you like
"Mr. Brooks. This is Marcus Vance, general counsel for Harrington Global. Mr. William Harrington has reviewed your filings. We are currently downstairs in the lobby with process servers and federal investigators. Have your desk cleared by noon. Your career in New York law is officially over."
The line went dead.
