Page 29 of Wistful Whispers
“Morning.” I set my bag down and reach for the coffee I picked up on the way in.
“Big day,” Ethan murmurs, flipping through a document. “You ready? Need anything?”
“Let’s go through everything one last time.” I perch on the edge of my desk, sipping my latte.
Natalie taps on her screen. “Caldwell’s defense is clear—he’s low-key throwing Seamus McGloughlin under the bus, painting him as an inexperienced, overeager resident who went beyond his role and caused the surgical error.”
I nod, waiting.
“Caldwell’s deposition seemed off,” Ethan adds. “He wasn’t as controlled as I expected him to be. He was dismissive. Arrogant. When we pushed, his answers didn’t hold up.”
“Which matches what we know about him,” I say. “Two previous malpractice suits. Two other residents who found themselves blamed while Caldwell walked away unscathed.”
Ethan nods. “Now McGloughlin is next in line.”
“You think he’ll go against Caldwell?” Natalie shuts her laptop.
I take a slow sip of coffee. “Not unless he has to.”
“Ahhh.” Ethan leans back. “Which is why we make him nervous.”
I nod once. “He’s a surgeon. He’s prepared for medical questions, expecting us to hammer him on the procedure, on the science. If we shift gears and bring his personal life? Reputation? Then he’ll have more to lose.”
“You don’t think he’ll see it coming?” Natalie frowns.
“No.” I shake my head. “His entire focus will be on justifying their actions in the OR. Not on defending himself.”
Ethan closes his laptop and shoves it in his bag. “So, you’ll shake him. Make him think twice about toeing the party line.”
“He needs to see what Caldwell is doing to him.” I stack my files and place them in my briefcase. “He needs to feel like he has something to lose if he stays quiet.”
Natalie studies me carefully. “What if he doesn’t crack?”
“We keep the pressure on.” I lean back smugly.
Ethan grins. “This is so cool.”
“We need to get to the hospital.” I push off my desk and grab my coat.
The drive is mostly silent, filled only with the occasional rustle of paper and the click of Natalie’s pen as she reviews notes. I keep my eyes on the road, navigating the car on autopilot. My mind is already in the deposition room. Already locking into strategy.
The possibility of Seamus McGloughlin turning from foe to ally if I play this right.
If I can keep my wits about me.
A flicker of something hot curls in my stomach. I know no matter how much I try, the second I see Seamus in person, my sex dreams are going to come rushing back. It’s going to take all of my strength not to react.
I won’t let it deter me, though.
To make my plan work, I’ll need to ask questions to make him hate me. It will give me the best chance to make sure the Blacks are compensated for Caldwell’s mistake. It also will endear me to my partners. Because the way Joe Finney championed Seamus’s family and their deep ties to some of our firm’s biggest clients, wasn’t a directive—it was a suggestion.
Go easy on him.
Which I absolutely willnotdo. By the end of the day Sarah Mahoney will realize we’ll need to combine forces and, with Seamus’s help, take Caldwell all the way down.
God, I feel it—victory within reach.
We pull into the hospital parking garage and I kill the engine, glancing at my clock on the dashboard. Right on time.
