Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty Four
Elena
Morning turns the house into something almost normal. It’s bright from the morning sun, breakfast was lively with the whole family there, and I’m feeling a bit better today.
Until now, anyway.
I follow Luca down the hall with a notebook pressed to my ribs like armor and stop at the open door of his study.
Three people are already there.
Marta Levin looks exactly the way she sounded on the phone the day before: compact, brisk, gray bob tucked behind one ear, suit the color of steel. She has a yellow legal pad and a capped pen aligned with military precision, and she’s not looking at either—she’s looking at me, measuring.
Beside her sits a man in a charcoal suit with a subtle tie.
Late forties, maybe fifty. Calm eyes, courtroom posture, a portfolio laid flat in front of him.
Vale, from Chang, Durning he’d introduced himself on the call last night as “Evan Vale, ethics and white-collar,” in a voice that made even my frayed nerves settle a notch.
I suppose that’s what makes him good at his job.
Roberto is at the end of the table near the window, a conservative navy jacket over a white shirt, no tie. His little notebook is already open. He looks like someone’s cheerful uncle and not at all like what he is: mob attorney.
Luca pulls a chair out for me and waits until I take the seat before taking one himself.
“Good morning,” Levin says, and it isn’t a pleasantry. It’s a starting pistol.
“Morning.” I put the notebook on the table, and smooth a corner that isn’t wrinkled. “I—This came together very quickly.”
“Urgency is important in this case,” Levin replies. Her glance flicks, once, toward Luca, then back to me.
I understand the unspoken words. It’s not just money that brought this together so quickly. I’m reminded again of just who Luca is and how far his reach.
Levin sets her pen down parallel to the legal pad. “Before we talk facts, we set the ground rules. Privilege, scope, and who represents whom.” She nods to the man beside her. “Evan?”
Vale slides a single-page letter from his portfolio and turns it toward me. “Two matters.” His voice is even and sure.
“First, representation in connection with the Office of Professional Responsibility and any State Bar inquiry—Levin Law as lead, Chang, Durning if that changes, we’ll revisit.”
“Understood,” I say. I skim the letter. Clean. Specific. “And joint defense?”
Levin flips her pen in her fingers, a quick click.
“We will have information flowing from Mr. Conti’s side that we would like to use tactically without contaminating you.
The safest way to do that is not through you.
It will go through Roberto. He and I have a separate common-interest agreement.
You and I have ours. If we need to cross that, we’ll do it intentionally. ”
Her gaze is level. “I want to protect your license and your life. Those goals align, but they are not always identical. Clear?”
“Clear.”
Vale taps a blank signature line. “This acknowledges retention and conflicts. My firm has no adverse engagements with the U.S. Attorney’s Office in your district; we’ve run it twice since last night.
Levin Law is clean. If OPR or the bar contacts you directly, you do not respond; you route to us.
You do not delete, destroy, or edit anything.
Full preservation. We’ll image your phone and laptop today. ”
I read again to be sure. I’m still a lawyer, after all. Then I sign. Vale countersigns, files it away.
“Good,” Levin says. “Now talk. From the beginning, in your own words, with dates and times where you can. I’ll stop you to clarify, not to cross-examine.
We’ll build a timeline and decide what we put on the record today.
If we need to supplement later, we will.
” She glances at the clock on the mantel.
“I’ve already requested an intake window with OPR at 2:00. If we need to slide it, we can. Ready?”
As ready as I’ll ever be. I pull my notebook closer and open it to a clean page.
I clear my throat and start from the beginning.
By the time I get to yesterday’s meeting with Miles, there are pages and pages of notes.
While writing still, Levin asks, “What did you say in response to the termination?”
“I said nothing that matters,” I answer. “I froze. He asked if it was true. I didn’t answer. He took that as confirmation.”
“Did he ask you to turn over devices? Demand passwords? Ask where you were physically located?”
“He asked me to return the laptop as soon as possible, but no and no for the rest.” I lift a shoulder. “He revoked access. IT booted me off after the meeting.”
“Good,” Vale says. “We send the laptop back. Keep it clean. To confirm, you did not respond when he asked you if you were pregnant with Luca Conti’s child?”
“I didn’t say anything. He just moved on to the termination. But I denied having a relationship with him at the meeting the day before in his office.”
“We frame it as: you were confronted without counsel, under implicit threat. You declined to discuss medical privacy. Today, with counsel, you’re cooperating, preserving, and correcting the record as appropriate.”
Levin nods. “And we anchor to timing. When did contact with Mr. Conti become personal instead of purely professional?”
I swallow. “Weeks after he was released.” I give the date that Luca came to my room.
“Did you use office systems or discuss anything related to the case outside formal channels?”
“No. Never,” I say firmly.
Levin’s pen pauses. “Good. We’ll say that plainly.”
Vale flips to a fresh page. “Next: we will file a complaint with HHS Office for Civil Rights for a suspected HIPAA breach. We will not name you publicly; we’ll file through counsel with identifiers.”
“Will they know it’s me?”
“They’ll know they have an OCR complaint concerning a patient,” Vale says evenly. “They’ll know someone is looking at their access logs. That alone can stop a leak.”
Luca shifts beside me. “We have a suspicion of where the leak came from,” he says.
Levin lifts a palm. “Not another word, Mr. Conti. We let them do their own investigating in this matter.”
Levin doesn’t look away from me. “If your team has already identified a likely source, that’s useful to us only after the clinic finishes its audit. If they try to sanitize logs, that’s a separate violation we can use. For now: nothing from you, nothing attributed to you.”
Luca nods once, leans back.
Vale continues, calm as ever. “Now, the garage. We’re filing a counsel-to-counsel incident report with the property manager, copying their insurer.
That forces their risk people to care about footage retention and access control.
Separately, we’ll lodge a short notice with the local police through CDV.
No address for you, no statement beyond the basics, and they direct any follow-ups to us. ”
“You can do that without dragging me into a station?” I ask.
“Yes,” Vale says. “We give them what they need to preserve only.”
Levin holds my eyes. “And Elena—if anyone from your former office calls you directly about any of this, you do not engage. ‘Please contact my counsel, Levin Law.’ That’s it.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” Levin draws four boxes on her legal pad and labels them: OPR, BAR, CLINIC, POLICE.
She underlines OPR. “First fire is OPR,” she says.
“They have an anonymous tip and, now, an adverse employment action. They will open an intake. They will suggest you failed to disclose a conflict and compromised an investigation. We get in front of them with a letter today: no counsel present; inquiry veered into medical privacy; you declined to discuss health information without counsel; you cooperated immediately upon termination; and you attempted to disclose a safety incident in your garage to your supervisor yesterday but were terminated before you were given the chance.” Levin’s pen moves as she talks.
“We attach a timeline that makes that sequence unmistakable.”
Vale is already typing. “Verbatim is helpful, so if you remember that, we’ll note it.”
“I do.”
He nods. “Good. We’ll get that before we go.”
Roberto’s phone buzzes once; he glances, then looks at me. “I’ve scheduled a secure line with Levin’s forensics at noon to start your phone image. Ten minutes tops. They’ll hand-courier your laptop back to the office IT with a cover letter so chain is clean.”
“Once we get those quotes, that’ll be all for now. We’ll get those statements out to all parties and get this started,” Vale says.
After I go through line-by-line what happened in my meeting with Hart yesterday, they both rise.
Levin rounds the table and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Elena,” she says, looking into my eyes intently. “We will not answer questions about your personal relationship beyond what we must. We will not litigate your uterus. We will not apologize for being pregnant.”
The bluntness knocks something into me, and I let out a long breath. “Thank you,” I say, and mean it.
“Media,” Vale says, gathering his portfolio and laptop.
I tense. “Do we have to…?”
“No,” he answers. “We do not talk to press. If anyone calls you, you say nothing and route to us. If they call your father, your neighbor, your doorman—nothing. We’re not trying this on Page Six.”
Levin adds, “We’ll send a short notice to your former office’s comms lead that you’re represented and that any statement about your medical status will be treated as a privacy violation. It won’t stop leaks, but it puts them on notice.”
“Travel and residence,” Levin goes on. “You’re staying here for now?”
“She is,” Luca says. “At least, until the danger has passed.”
“Good. Keep movements minimal.”
“I can do that,” I say, already feeling claustrophobic.
At that, Levin and Vale take their leave and walk out, leaving me, Luca, and Roberto in the study.
Roberto closes his notebook and slides it into his jacket. “I’ll sit with Vale on language for the statement,” he says. “I know how Hart reads.” He tips his chin to me. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t feel fine,” I say.
“You don’t have to feel it to be it,” he replies, then leaves me with Luca.
“You’re angry,” he says. “Good. Anger is energy. We’ll put it to use. If you need to come apart, you pick the time and the room. It won’t be in front of OPR.”
A laugh escapes me, small and helpless but real. “Noted.”
“You’re strong enough for this, Panini,” he says, taking my hand.
“I guess we’ll find out if you’re right about that.”
“I am,” he says. He quirks his brow. “I’m always right.”