Chapter 10 Katie
Katie
By the time I get home, Mary is asleep, and Mom is hunched over a pile of bills at the kitchen table. She spreads the notices like a losing hand of cards. Her mouth is a thin, tight line as she slides the red-inked envelopes into one pile and the rest into another. A slow, silent triage.
I take a seat across from her.
“I get paid in a few days, Mom. I can pay the rest of these then.”
She puts her glasses atop her head and rubs her eyes. “This shouldn’t be your responsibility.”
I rub her shoulder. “No one expected Mary to get sick and drain your savings. I can help, and I want to.”
“How did I get such a good daughter?” She says, patting my arm.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “I had a good mom to learn from.”
She leans her head on my shoulder, and I wish I could take the weight of the world from her.
“Are you hungry, sweetie? I made burger bowls for dinner. I can put one together for you.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll just make a sandwich or something.”
“Okay, honey,” she goes back to looking at the bills, and I quickly whip up a basic tuna fish sandwich with too much mayo and join her at the table.
“Can you talk about the case you’re working on?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s a big case. That’s all I can really say.”
“Okay. Don’t work yourself too hard.”
“I don’t really have a choice.”
“You always have a choice,” she says as she makes out a check to the water company.
I finish my sandwich and wash the plate before collapsing into the couch and turning on a rerun of The Office.
My body is exhausted, but my mind drifts to the day spent next to Stephan.
The way the air fizzles around him. I want to run my fingers through his hair.
I want to feel the heat of his breath on my neck.
Just thinking about it makes my core heat with lust. But the heat quickly curdles, because wanting him feels like gambling with Mary’s odds.
I swore he wanted to touch me today, but I wouldn’t dare cross that line with him. Not when I need this job so badly. But that doesn’t mean I can’t dream of him from a distance.
Mom takes a seat next to me on the couch, and I lean my head on her like I did when I was little—like she can still protect me from whatever storm I’m walking into.
“Mom?” I ask during a commercial.
“Yes?”
“Do you think people come into our lives for a reason?”
She brushes a stray hair from my eyes, her touch gentle, familiar. “I believe the Lord puts people in our lives for a reason. Some are tests, some are guides, but all of them have their place in shaping who we become.”
Her words linger long after the TV flickers back to life. I stare at the screen but see none of it—only the memory of Stephan’s eyes on me, and the quiet, dangerous certainty that he’s going to change everything.
***
The train rocks beneath me, the same clatter and sway as always, but everything feels different. The city outside the window is washed in early light, glass and concrete blurring past, and I keep replaying Mom’s words in my head: Some are tests, some are guides.
Which one is Stephan Marek?
I clutch my coffee like it holds the answer and step off the train at my station. The air hits humid and heavy for 8:30 in the morning. Rain clouds hang ominously overhead.
My heels click too loudly on the marble floor of the building’s lobby.
When the elevator doors open on thirty-six, the familiar chill of the firm’s air conditioning wraps around me. The hum of phones, the smell of toner, the muted tension of a place that never really sleeps.
“Morning, Katie,” Annie says, passing with her usual stack of files.
“Morning,” I manage.
Carmen is waiting for me when I reach my desk. “How was your weekend, Sister Sunshine?”
“Quiet,” I say, setting down my bag.
She grins. “You might want to brace yourself. Marek’s been in since six. I think he’s got another meeting this morning.”
“Another meeting?”
“With you.”
My stomach tightens. “Did he say what it’s about?”
“Nope. Just told Annie to find you when you got in.”
Annie appears at my desk like she’s been waiting for the exact moment I exhale. “He wants to see you. All the partners do.”
My stomach drops. “Now?”
She nods.
Carmen pretends to type, but her eyes meet mine, wide and worried. I square my shoulders and follow Annie down the hall into the lion’s den.
The three partners look up when I enter like predators mid-hunt.
Stephan rises from behind his desk and gestures to the leather chair across from him. “Have a seat, Ms. O’Shea.”
I do as he says.
“I bet you’re wondering why you’ve been called in here,” Stephan begins.
“I am,” I admit, trying to keep my voice steady.
Damien clears his throat. “Stephan tells us you’re the only one on his team he trusts absolutely, so we’re going to extend that trust as well.”
Trust– the word is not the warm, steady thing it should be; it’s sharp and jagged. My stomach does a slow, nauseating roll, and for a second, the sterile air of the office feels too thin to breathe. Trust is just another kind of leverage here.
“Ms. O’Shea documented every variance with chain-of-custody time stamps. Her work product is auditable,” Stephan adds.
Chain-of-custody access means no one else can verify my edits. If I slip—even by accident—the defense collapses.
I look at Stephan. He’s watching me with a quiet, fierce certainty, as if he’s placed his entire reputation in my hands. He thinks he knows why I’m loyal. He thinks Mary’s illness is the anchor that keeps me tethered to Halcyon’s defense.
He doesn't realize it’s the spark that could burn the whole thing down.
“Thank you,” I manage to say, but the words feel like ash in my mouth.
I’m a good person—or I used to be. But sitting here, under the weight of their expectations, I feel like a hollowed-out version of the woman who wore a habit.
I’m not just a lawyer anymore. I’m a liar by omission, and every time Stephan looks at me with that unyielding faith, the guilt twists a little tighter.
“We don’t take this lightly, Katie,” Cassian adds, his voice grave. “You’re the last line of defense.”
Last line of defense for Halcyon. Last hope for Mary. The same line.
I nod, my knuckles white as I grip the edge of the leather chair. They think they’ve found their most loyal soldier. They don’t know they’ve just handed the keys to the only person in the building who has a reason to betray them.
I glance toward Stephan for some kind of cue, but he gives none. His face is unreadable, all control.
Damien continues, “We have a leak.”
The word lands like a gunshot.
“We don’t yet know if it’s coming from this office or from Halcyon’s,” Cassian adds. “From now on, only you and Stephan will have access to the discovery documents. You’ll be putting in long hours, but you’ll be compensated—and you’ll have a firm car for your commute.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Shock roots me to the chair.
Stephan finally speaks, his voice even, measured. “We’ll also be flying to California on Wednesday to meet with Halcyon’s leadership and identify vulnerabilities in their internal chain of custody.”
The meeting dissolves as quickly as it began. Cassian and Damien leave first, already talking logistics. Stephan lingers behind, saying something to Annie in a voice too low to catch. I can feel his gaze on me as I stand, but I don’t dare meet it.
Outside his office, the air feels thinner.
My heels echo down the hall like a metronome ticking through my pulse.
Suddenly, I can feel every other associate’s eyes on me.
They speak in hushed tones, but I know what they’re saying.
I am Stephan Marek’s “girl”—and with that comes a weight I am unprepared to bear.
Carmen looks up as I approach. “So? What was that about? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I drop into my chair, but it feels different now, less like a workspace and more like a target.
Carmen leans over, her voice a stage whisper. “Seriously, Katie. You’re the only one who didn’t get interrogated this morning. Now you’re in a three-partner huddle? People are talking. You know, HR fired someone last year over a rumor like that, right?”
“Let them talk,” I say, though my heart is hammer-tapping against my ribs.
I reach for a stack of files, the paper cool and indifferent under my hands.
I need the logic of the law to ground me, but all I can think about is the way the partners looked at me—like a sacrificial lamb — asset on paper, alibi in practice, scapegoat if it goes wrong.
“It was just more assignments. Nothing crazy,” I say, hoping she’ll believe the lie.
“More Marek, you mean.”
More of the man who makes me forget I ever wore a habit.
I offer her a tight, professional smile. “Something like that.”
She grins. “You’re moving up fast, O’Shea. Remind me to stand next to you when promotions happen.”
I force a laugh, but it comes out thin. “I’ll keep you posted.”
When she turns back to her monitor, I finally let myself exhale. My pulse is still unsteady.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of documents and legal notes. By six o’clock, my eyes ache from the screen, and my handwriting looks like a foreign language. I rub my eyes. At this level, mistakes don’t get corrected—they get printed in The Wall Street Journal.
“See you tomorrow,” Carmen calls as she slings her bag over her shoulder. I mumble something that might be goodbye.
The office thins out. Lights dim. Outside, the sky turns the color of slate, bruising over the Chicago skyline. I’m halfway through organizing a stack of discovery summaries when a shadow falls across my desk.
I don't even have to look up. The air around me changes, growing heavy and charged, the way it does right before a summer storm.
“My office, Ms. O’Shea. Now.”