Chapter 56 Lunch With The Doctor
EMILY
"She is not his mistress. She is someone you cannot afford to offend."
I turn and look at Leo as he comes up protectively behind me.
"What?" The woman says, frowning, unable to look Leo in the eye. She bites her lip. "I didn’t...I didn’t even say anything."
Leo steps closer to her. "I didn’t say you did. But I’m pointing it out in case you thought or assumed it. She’s a respectable married woman."
Dr. Aris and I exchange a soft knowing look and nod. I reach out to touch Leo’s arm softly and he turns to look at me. I’m glad he’s this protective of me. It shows how much he respects me as Alistair’s wife and since I married Alistair, I don’t think anyone has respected me in that regard.
It makes my respect for him grow. "It’s okay Leo. Dr. Aris has cleared up the misunderstanding anyway. It doesn’t matter."
The deep frown on Leo’s face softens. He glares at the woman one more time and then looks at Dr. Aris.
"Please, can you lead us to your table, sir?"
Dr. Aris nods. "Yes." He looks at me. "Miss. Emily, I assure you I would have a word with the manager regarding what happened here. "Please come with me," Dr. Aris says, and without sparing the woman and others a look, Leo and I follow.
The view from the hundred and first floor of Bordeaux 101 turns the sprawling city into a silent, miniature toy set. We sit at a quiet corner table right next to the floor to ceiling windows. Sunlight pours over the pristine white tablecloth, catching the edges of the crystal water glasses and making them sparkle.
Leo stands two paces away from my chair. He looks exactly like a carved granite statue in his dark tailored suit. He keeps his large hands clasped firmly in front of his belt, completely ignoring the nervous glances of the passing waiters in their crisp black vests.
Dr. Aris takes a slow sip of sparkling water. He sets the crystal glass down and rests his forearms on the table. He looks as distinguished as ever. His silver hair is combed neatly back, and his gray suit speaks of quiet, established wealth. A warm smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.
"I spoke with the university president this morning," Dr. Aris says. He keeps his voice pitched low to ensure our privacy. "I presented your academic background and the initial data from your cardiology formula. The board reviewed everything. They agreed to bypass the standard lottery system entirely. You will be admitted to Etland University of Medicine as a special talent student."
My hands drop to my lap. I grip the heavy linen napkin so tightly my knuckles turn white. A massive, irrepressible grin stretches completely across my face.
This is it. This is my escape route. For years, Thomas and Lydia Vance kept me locked inside that house, my sister stole the only thing that brought me joy back then and the whole family treated me like a useless burden to be sold off to the highest bidder. And now, I am sitting in a contractual marriage inside Alistair Wolfe’s golden cage, functioning simply as an incubator for his heir. But this acceptance changes the entire board. I am going to be a real doctor. I am going to build my own independent financial empire and secure a safe, untouchable future for my baby.
"Are you serious?" I ask. My voice shakes slightly with excitement.
"Completely serious," Dr. Aris replies, returning my smile. "The admissions office will contact you in the next few days. They just need to request copies of your identification materials and your previous transcripts. Once you submit those, they will send out the official admission notice via courier."
"Dr. Aris, I do not know what to say." I reach into the pocket of my denim jacket and pat the thick envelope of cash I scraped together this morning. "This is incredible news. I am paying for this lunch. I absolutely insist. It is the very least I can do to thank you for pulling those strings."
Dr. Aris opens his mouth to protest, but he looks at the stubborn set of my jaw and chuckles. "Very well, Emily. I will let you treat me today."
A waiter arrives a moment later. He carries two large porcelain plates. He sets a beautiful portion of pan-seared scallops over truffle risotto in front of me. The rich, earthy aroma of the truffles mixes with the sharp scent of roasted garlic. I pick up my heavy silver fork and take a bite. The flavors explode on my tongue, rich and savory. It tastes exactly like victory.
We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes. I organize my thoughts carefully. The university admission is only the first step of my plan. The real leverage lies in my research.
"Dr. Aris," I say, setting my fork down. I lean slightly closer to the center of the table. "I want to talk about the commercial licensing for the cardiology formula. I have a specific proposal for the Formula 18 compound."
He wipes his mouth with his napkin and gives me his full attention. "Go ahead. I am listening."
"I do not want to sell the patent outright," I explain. I keep my tone extremely professional and direct. "Most young developers take a one-time, massive cash payout from a pharmaceutical company and walk away. That provides immediate money, but it strips away all future control. I want to use Formula 18 as leverage to invest in a company. I want to acquire equity shares for long-term growth."
Dr. Aris raises his eyebrows. He studies my face closely. He clearly expects me to jump at a quick payday, especially given my background with the Vance family.
"You want a seat at the table," Dr. Aris states.
"I want a permanent voice in how the drug is manufactured and distributed," I confirm. "If this compound successfully reverses the specific plaque buildup in coronary arteries, it will be a global necessity. I want to build lasting wealth for my child. I need a real business partner, not just a buyer."
Dr. Aris leans back in his chair. He taps his index finger against his chin. He looks at me with a deep, profound respect that warms my chest.
"You have incredible ambition, Emily," he says. "And you have excellent vision. But finding the right candidate for that specific structure is going to be incredibly difficult."
"Do you know anyone suitable?" I ask.
He picks up his water glass and swirls the clear liquid. "Let us analyze the current market. The large, top-tier pharmaceutical companies have endless capital. But they are massive machines. If you demand a technology-based equity investment from them, they will bury you in legal clauses. They will dilute your shares within two fiscal quarters. You will have absolutely no say in the boardroom."
I nod slowly. He is confirming my exact fears about corporate sharks. Alistair operates on that exact level, swallowing smaller companies whole without a second thought. I refuse to be eaten.
"On the other hand," Dr. Aris continues, setting the glass down. "The mid-sized pharmaceutical companies are hungry. They have solid distribution networks and decent manufacturing plants, but they are lacking a true blockbuster drug. They need something revolutionary to push them into the top tier. Formula 18 is exactly what they need to survive the next decade. If you go to them, you hold the ultimate negotiating power."
"So we target the middle tier," I say.
"Yes," Dr. Aris agrees. "But finding a mid-sized company with trustworthy leadership is tricky. I have deep connections in the medical industry. I will release the news of a new, highly effective cardiology compound through my private channels. Once the rumors circulate, companies will definitely contact me looking for the source. I will personally handle the screening process and bring you the best candidates."
A heavy wave of relief washes the tension right out of my shoulders. Having a respected medical dean act as my broker gives me an impenetrable layer of professional armor.
"Thank you, Dr. Aris," I say sincerely. "I truly appreciate your guidance."
He smiles, but a serious shadow crosses his eyes. "I will be perfectly honest with you, Emily. I have ulterior motives for helping you push this drug to the market. It is not entirely selfless."
I study his face. I do not see any malice or greed. I simply see a tired, determined doctor.
"You do not have to explain right now," I tell him. "You can tell me your reasons after we find a solid partner."
"I appreciate your patience," he replies.
"There is one strictly non negotiable condition for this entire process," I add, lowering my voice. "My real name cannot appear on any preliminary documents or press releases. Thomas Vance and my stepmother will try to claim ownership of my work if they find out I developed something valuable. Alistair’s family will likely try to seize it as marital property. I need total anonymity during the negotiations."
Dr. Aris nods in complete agreement. "A wise precaution. What name should I use when I speak to the prospective buyers?"
I think about the name for a moment. I want something entirely disconnected from my past.
"Use the name Dr. Grayson," I say.
"Dr. Grayson it is," Dr. Aris confirms.
The waiter returns to clear our empty plates and leave a small leather folder containing the bill. I pull the envelope from my jacket and count out the cash. I place the crisp bills into the folder, securing my end of the bargain. I am investing the last of my money into my future.
Dr. Aris watches me pay the bill. He looks genuinely pleased with our meeting. He buttons his suit jacket, preparing to stand up and leave.
I lean forward over the table, stopping him before he can rise. The comfortable business atmosphere fades. I need an answer to the terrifying scene I witnessed from the armored SUV an hour ago.
"Dr. Aris," I say, keeping my eyes locked firmly on his face. "When my car pulled up to the Etland Building earlier, I saw Silas Hunt groveling on the pavement in front of you. Why was a violent street thug begging for your time?"