“Distance yourself immediately.”
That’s the first thing the lawyer says.
Not hello. Not how are you holding up.
Just that.
We’re in a glass conference room at Galen Holdings. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Perfect view of the city. Everything looks calm from up here. Traffic flowing. People walking. No one knows my best friend slept on a metal bench last night.
The legal team sits across from me like I’m a risk report. Three of them. Suits. Laptops open. Expressions tight.
“You cannot be seen visiting her,” the lead counsel continues. “You cannot call. You cannot send money directly. Any support must be routed through approved channels.”
“Approved by who?” I ask.
“By us.”
Us.
Like I’m not part of this company. Like I’m not Nina Vale. Like I didn’t grow up in boardrooms with these peop
