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.”
