Chapter 9
NINE
SARAH
The glass conference room rattled faintly with the sound of clinking champagne flutes and the congratulatory laughter of those present. From where she stood at the far end of the hallway, Sarah could still hear her name echoing in every direction.
She had won the toughest case she had ever argued. It should have felt better.
This win was one entire careers were retired on.
Sarah should be celebrating. But this particular win left a lingering aftertaste of dread.
She tossed one last look at the ongoing celebration before slipping into her corner office, closing the door quietly behind her.
Wall-to-wall windows provided her with a panoramic view of the city, glowing in the early twilight.
Seattle always looked its most beautiful this time of day—damp, steel-toned, and powerful, nestled on the peaks of hills overlooking the water.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, polished in her navy suit, but her eyes were too tired for someone who’d landed the most significant case of the year.
The ruling had been a clean, beautiful manipulation of language and precedent.
Sarah’s client, a prominent tech conglomerate, would now avoid a cascade of data privacy liabilities, allowing their work to move quickly without any unnecessary roadblocks.
Everyone told her it was genius. Some had even called her brilliant for identifying the loophole her entire argument had been hedged on.
But Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about what it meant. The cracks in the broken system she was helping widen for the gain of a few wealthy men.
She hadn’t always felt this way. She had been enamored with the tech industry from a young age, infatuated with the digital transformation of the world, watching it unfold and wanting to be a part of it.
There was so much possibility. When she first started, it had all felt like justice, like she was wielding the law for those who needed it because they were trying to make the world a better place.
Lately, it merely felt like a game. One where the rules were made by those driving and gaining from the innovation, with power consolidated and reshuffled by lawyers like her when those same people got caught misusing and abusing the systems.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts as she shook them away. Avery, her assistant, stepped into the office with an elegantly wrapped box.
“A courier dropped this off,” Avery said, with a grin. “It’s from Ms. Stanhope.”
Sarah took the package, her brows lifting in surprise. What was Nell up to? Gifts hadn’t been part of their arrangement so far. Curious, she tugged the ribbon free and opened the box, her breath catching as she peeled back the tissue paper.
It was a rare first edition of Revolutionary Law: The Founding Principles of Public Justice. Her favorite legal text. Her fingers hovered over the cracked leather spine. The weight of it was exquisite in her hands.
There was a note tucked inside the cover, written in Nell’s distinctive, elegant scrawl.
You play this game better than anyone. Don’t forget, you also get to rewrite the rules.
Congratulations on the big win. I never doubted you. —N
Avery was still talking, something about the partners asking if Sarah would speak at the next client symposium, but she barely heard her.
“Thanks, Avery,” she said gently, not looking up. “Can you give me a few minutes?”
Avery paused, then nodded before slipping quietly out the door.
Sarah sat back in her chair, the book still in her hands. She traced the edges of the note with her thumb, quietly struck by the thoughtfulness of the gift. It was something she had only mentioned as a passing thought, but Nell had remembered.
The memory hit fast and hot. Nell had pulled her away from a party they were attending.
Sarah had been embroiled in a debate over the fair use of user data with yet another forgettable wealthy man when Nell had appeared by her side, took her hand, guided her away down a hallway, into the library.
Sarah had barely registered her irritation before the door clicked shut.
Nell was on her instantly. Had her hands pinned to the shelves, breaths hot and heavy at her ear. The quiet command in her voice as Nell had hissed, “Don’t make a sound.” It had taken everything Sarah had to obey. Law school had been easier.
Afterward, as they had smoothed their clothes and readied themselves to rejoin the party, Sarah’s fingers had skimmed the spines of the books on the shelf she had clung to moments ago.
“Shame they don’t have the full set,” she had said. “They’re missing The Founding Principles of Public Justice. It’s dense, but it has teeth.”
And now that very book was here, in her hands, and Nell had remembered. Not just the book or her case, but who she was—the version of herself that still believed the law could be used for something better.
Without thinking too hard, she picked up her phone and dialed. Nell answered on the first ring.
“I was wondering how long it would take you,” Nell said, her voice warm, like she’d been waiting.
Sarah exhaled, a half laugh catching on the edge of her relief. “I hope you didn’t waste too much of your time waiting for me. I’m not sure I want to know what one of your billable hours costs.”
“For you, my fee is waived,” Nell said.
“Your generosity is noted,” Sarah teased, before softening. “I got the book. It’s beautiful.”
“I thought you might like something with substance to counterbalance all the champagne and praise Clint Braxton is surely showering you with.”
Sarah leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling. “You remembered my case was being decided today.”
“Of course I did. I make note of the things that are important to you,” Nell said, followed by a contemplative silence. “But you don’t sound like someone who’s just won.”
“I don’t, do I?” Sarah swiveled in her chair, turning to look out the windows. “It’s nothing, really. I’m overthinking things. I wanted to call and say thank you for the thoughtful gift, but please, don’t let me take up any more of your time.”
There was a long pause on the other end before Nell responded.
“Rule number five: time is your most valuable asset. Spend it wisely. For you, I am always available, so please don’t use the importance of my time as an excuse to not tell me how you’re feeling.
If something is weighing on you, I want to hear it.
Now, tell me, what’s going through that beautiful mind of yours? ”
She couldn’t help but smile. The command in Nell’s voice was subtle, with the slightest hint of reprimand that wasn’t usually there.
Sarah noted the boundary discovered. She had gotten used to Nell’s directness over the past few months.
It was part of their agreement. Nell commanded, and Sarah obliged. Who was she to deviate from that now?
She almost explained, almost spilled out her doubts and the gnawing disquiet that had settled beneath her skin, but instead, she simply said, “It didn’t feel like a win.”
There was a pause on the other end, then Nell spoke. “Come spend Thanksgiving with me.”
Sarah blinked. “What?” she asked, wanting to make sure she had heard correctly.
“You heard me,” Nell said, unrushed. “Come to Pennsylvania. Enjoy the quiet. There will be good food, no billionaires asking you to bend your spine into another legal loophole . . . well, that’s not entirely true. There will be one billionaire asking you to bend, but it’s only me.”
Sarah laughed, but there was something caught in it. “I don’t know . . .”
She usually spent the holiday alone. Beth and Jamie used the time to take Lily on their annual vacation, while Sarah got the time between Christmas and New Year’s. She didn’t have anything tangible stopping her from going to Nell’s, but something held her back from answering with an emphatic yes.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Nell said easily. “But the invitation stands, and I’ll make sure there’s bourbon waiting. Only the best for you.”
Sarah was quiet for a long moment.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “For the book . . . and the escape route.”
Nell’s voice was low. “Any time. Let me know about Thanksgiving.”
The line clicked as Nell hung up. They didn’t say goodbye. They never really had to, and Sarah liked that. It was as if no conversation ever truly ended, but rather paused until it could be continued.
She looked around her quiet office. There was no use in her staying late tonight, not with her case all neatly buttoned up, so she packed up her belongings, sent a quick text to Avery, and slipped away to head home.
The next day, it was back to business as usual.
There were a few interruptions from junior partners stopping by to congratulate her again, but mostly, it was back to the grind, poring over the stack of documents on her desk.
An urgent knock on her door with two fast raps drew her attention.
There was a pause, then, without invitation, the door was pushed open.
Sarah looked up from her monitor, ready to bring hell down upon whichever low-level attorney had the gall to interrupt her—a closed door is the universal sign for “fuck off, I’m busy”—but she was surprised when it wasn’t some junior partner but Lily standing in front of her with Wren behind her, hunched over, eyes red-rimmed, arms wrapped protectively around herself.
“Wren needs help,” Lily said quickly, “and I’m not sure, but I think it needs to be you.”
Her eyes shifted from Lily to Wren and back as she stood, quickly assessing the situation.
She came around her desk, heart catching as she took in the look of pure worry and panic on Wren’s face, her eyes shining with the hint of tears threatening to spill.
“Wren, sweetie, come in,” Sarah said gently. “Lily, wait outside for a few minutes so I can speak with Wren privately,” she added, unsure exactly what kind of trouble Wren might be in, her instinct to protect Lily swooping in.