Chapter 6 - The Independent Counsel
The morning sun filtered through my apartment blinds in sharp, golden slats, cutting across the hardwood floor where my wheelchair sat waiting. My phone buzzed on the side table at precisely 8:30 AM. It was a text from Hannah: “Coffee and legal artillery arriving in twenty minutes. Wear something fierce.”
True to her word, at 8:55 AM, Ethan unlocked the door, followed not just by Hannah, but by a tall, sharp-eyed woman in a charcoal pantsuit carrying an oversized leather briefcase.
“Claire, this is Diane Ross,” Ethan said, stepping aside to let her enter. “She’s senior partner at Ross & Sterling Litigation—unrelated to our mother, thankfully. She specializes in insurance bad-faith litigation and personal injury protection disputes.”
Diane Ross shook my hand with a grip that was firm, professional, and devoid of patronizing pity. Her dark eyes swept the room once, taking in my independent transfer setup without a hint of awkwardness.
“Good morning, Claire,” Diane said, taking a seat opposite my sofa and unzipping her briefcase. “Ethan and Hannah have briefed me on the events of last night. They’ve also provided the cloud backup of the videographer’s footage, the text message logs, and the initial settlement correspondence handled by Marcus Vance.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Can she actually use my medical claims against me to invalidate the settlement?”
Diane pulled a thick sheaf of printed emails and legal filings from her case file, spreading them across the coffee table. “She can try, but she’s just torpedoed her own defense. Under state law, an insured party who actively attempts to fabricate evidence of non-compliance or fraudulent recovery voids their own liability protection clauses. Furthermore, Vance’s firm is in massive ethical jeopardy for engaging in clandestine evidence collection without court authorization.”
She looked up, locking eyes with me. “In plain English, Claire? Your mother didn't just hurt your case; she exposed herself to direct personal liability. If we cross-file against her insurer for bad-faith obstruction and conspiracy to commit insurance fraud, the carrier will drop her defense instantly. She’ll be forced to face your personal injury suit using her own personal assets.”
Ethan let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Her house? Her retirement accounts?”
“Everything she used as leverage to control you,” Diane confirmed smoothly. “She played a high-stakes game of manipulation, and she lost. Now, the question is: how far do you want to take this?”
I looked across the room at my wheelchair, then down at my own hands, feeling the steady pulse of strength in my fingers. For seven months, Beatrice had treated my body like her personal balance sheet, calculating the cost of my survival and complaining about the toll it took on her social standing.
May you like
“All the way,” I said, my voice steady and unyielding. “I want every medical expense authorized, every rehabilitation cost covered, and a formal restraining order preventing her from contacting my doctors or insurance adjusters ever again.”
Diane smiled—a sharp, approving curve of her lips. “Consider it done. I’ll file the emergency injunctions by noon.”
