Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
By the time I get to the office, I already know today is going to be a problem.
It’s not the emails. I can handle those. It’s not the missed calls lighting up my phone or the assistant hovering at my door with the polite-but-urgent look that means someone important is waiting.
It’s the woman sitting in my reception area.
She’s perched on the edge of the chair, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles are white.
Mia.
My stomach does a slow roll. I haven’t seen her since the deposition rooms and the hushed, angry meetings of last year.
When Dr. Sterling—the man Beckett eventually replaced—was fired, it wasn’t just for “professional misconduct.” He was a predator.
Mia was one of his victims, a nurse who had the courage to speak up when the hospital’s legal team tried to steamroll her.
They tried to spin the story, so I spent months dismantling their defense, shielding Mia and the others until Sterling was stripped of his license and his reputation lay in the dirt. We bonded in the trenches during a character assassination attempt.
I slow my steps, already rearranging my face, my posture, my tone. The part of me that walks into burning buildings slips neatly into place.
“Mia, I’d say it’s lovely to see you because it is, but usually when you’re sitting in my office, it’s not for a friendly catch-up.”
Her mouth trembles.
“It’s Lily,” she says.
Lily Morgan. Seventeen when I last saw her. She had been Mia’s rock throughout everything.
“She must be almost nineteen now,” I say gently. “How is she?”
Mia exhales. “Not good.”
I motion toward my office. “Come on.”
The door closes behind us, and the room shifts. It always does. Something about these walls makes people tell the truth. I take off my jacket, hang it on the chair, and sit across from her—not behind the desk. Never behind the desk when it’s personal.
“I know this isn’t what you usually deal with,” she starts. “It’s not a senator or a studio or… God, Madison, I wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t terrified.”
“Tell me.”
She swallows. “Lily’s ex-boyfriend has videos and pictures. He’s threatening to upload them.”
Not another one of these assholes in the world.
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Twenty. They were together for almost a year. She trusted him.” Her voice breaks on the last word.
“She broke up with him last month. Since then, he’s been hinting, telling her he’ll ruin her if she doesn’t talk to him.
He says he won’t even post them himself.
That he’ll send them to someone else to do it, so he can’t be blamed. ”
I keep my voice even. “Have you gone to the police?”
“Yes. They said unless he actually posts something, there’s not much they can do. They told us to document everything.”
Of course they did.
“She’s starting college in the fall,” Mia continues, the words tumbling now.
“She’s worked so hard, Madison. She’s a good girl.
She just—she made a mistake. She thought she was in love.
And if this gets out, it’ll follow her forever.
” Tears roll down her face. “And I keep thinking,” she rushes on, “if she hadn’t sent them, if she hadn’t let him record anything, if she had just—”
“Stop,” I say firmly.
She freezes.
I lean forward and take her hand. “No. We are not doing that.”
Her eyes flick to mine.
“What Lily did with someone she trusted does not need to be justified,” I say. “She didn’t do anything wrong. Full stop.”
“She’s not stupid,” Mia whispers. “She’s not reckless. She’s not—”
“I know, and even if she were, it still wouldn’t make this her fault. I can’t promise miracles, but I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to stop him. I’ll need a couple of hours.”
Her eyes widen. “Hours?”
I offer her a light smile. “I’m good.”
Mia nods frantically. “Whatever you need. Money—”
“I’m not charging you,” I cut in.
“Madison—”
“This one’s personal. Let me handle it.”
She presses her lips together, nodding again, tears spilling over.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I knew you’d know what to do.”
After she leaves, I sit alone in my office, staring at the door. My hands are shaking.
I think of Piper when she came to my apartment weeks ago. Of Ezra showing up the next morning with apologies and soft words, and how my sister melted into him. I think of the way something about him makes my stomach twist, even when I can’t explain why.
And I think of Lily. She’s eighteen and terrified, and learning the hard way how cruel people can be when they don’t get their way.
I open my laptop.
I don’t work with scumbags, but I destroy them when they come for women who don’t deserve it.
And today, I have a very clear target.
∞∞∞
I don’t raise my voice.
That’s the first thing people expect when they think of power. They expect anger to announce itself with a crash. It doesn’t. Real anger, the kind I’ve cultivated over years of dismantling men who act like boys, is precise. I prefer to work with a scalpel, not a sledgehammer.
I sit at the head of the conference table with Mia beside me.
On the screen in front of us is a paused video frame. Nothing graphic, but enough to know exactly what it is.
The lawyer across from me clears his throat. “Technically, Ms. Callahan, no crime has been committed yet.”
I turn my head slowly and meet his gaze.
“You’re right,” I say. “Which is why we’re not waiting for one.”
Lily sits outside with my assistant. She doesn’t need to hear this part. She’s eighteen and still trying to apologize for trusting someone who didn’t deserve her breath, let alone her heart.
She did nothing wrong.
I slide a folder across the table. Inside it is everything.
Screenshots. Messages. Metadata. IP addresses.
A tidy timeline showing intent, coercion, and threat.
I’ve also included his football scholarship details, his internship offer, and his mother’s high-ranking position at that very conservative nonprofit.
Apparently, it has extremely strong opinions on morality.
I bet her son’s activities will go down like a lead balloon.
I didn’t have to dig far. Men like this never think they’ll be held accountable, so they leave a trail of digital breadcrumbs a mile wide.
“This,” I continue, tapping the folder, “is evidence of extortion. Revenge porn statutes apply the second he hits upload. Which he hasn’t. Yet.”
The lawyer swallows hard.
“But here’s the fun part,” I add. “We don’t need to wait for him to do it.”
Mia finally speaks. “What do you mean?”
I turn to her, my expression softening. “It means we take away his power before he realizes he’s lost it.
Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say. “Today, my office sends a cease-and-desist so aggressive it will make his hands shake. We CC his parents. His university. The athletic department. The company offering him that shiny internship.”
The lawyer opens his mouth to protest.
I hold up a single finger. “I’m not finished.
We don’t accuse him publicly. We don’t leak.
We don’t threaten. We present facts. We make it very clear that if a single image is shared, even privately, we will pursue criminal charges and civil damages so extensive that his future will be reduced to a footnote.
Then,” I continue, “we offer him a choice.”
“A choice?” Mia asks, leaning forward.
“Yes,” I say. “Disappear quietly, or explain to every institution invested in him why his name is suddenly linked to extortion and sexual exploitation.”
The lawyer exhales a shaky breath. “He’s only twenty.”
“And Lily is eighteen,” I reply evenly. “She’s the one being terrorized. I think my priorities are exactly where they need to be.”
That shuts him up.
“This isn’t about ruining him,” I say, though a dark part of me doesn’t care if it does. “It’s about protecting her.”
Mia’s eyes fill with tears. “Will it work?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Because I don’t bluff. I never have.
∞∞∞
An hour later, Lily is sitting across from me in my office, her knees bouncing and eyes rimmed red. I step away from my desk and crouch in front of her chair so we’re at eye level.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I tell her gently. “Not a single thing.”
She nods, but I can see the doubt clinging to her like a second skin. “I should’ve known better.”
“No. He should’ve been better.”
I want to wrap her up and protect her, but the world won’t do that for her outside this office.
She looks lost.
“What if he still does it?”
“He won’t,” I say, and I mean it.
Because an hour after they leave, my phone lights up on the desk.
It’s just one message:
Please tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I won’t do anything. I swear.
I stare at the screen for a long moment. Then I delete it.
I don’t pass it on. Apologies don’t erase fear, and they certainly don’t undo the intent to destroy someone.
Now, as the office grows quiet, the adrenaline finally drains out of me. I sink into my chair and press my fingers to my eyes.
This one mattered.
It mattered because Lily reminded me too much of the girl I used to be. The one who learned far too early that silence was safer. That keeping things to yourself made them hurt less.
I’m glad I could give her a different ending.
I sit in the quiet of my office for a long time after they leave. Adrenaline is a fickle friend. It leaves you hollow once it’s gone.
I reach for my phone and see a notification waiting for me.
Beckett: Hi, neighbor. How’s the world saving going?
A small, weary laugh escapes me.
Me: The world is going to shit, Doc. Save yourself.
Beckett: That bad? I was going to suggest dinner. See you at 8?
I look at the stacks of folders on my desk and the emails I ignored while I was being a shield for Lily and Mia.
Me: I’m drowning in work. I might be MIA for a couple of days.
Beckett: I get it. Duty calls. You know where I am if you need me. I’ll keep the thudding to a minimum tonight so you can focus.
I feel a strange, tight knot in my chest loosen.
Me: Thank you.
I put the phone down and pull a fresh file toward me, determined to get through at least three more cases before I call it a night, but a minute later, the screen glows again.
Beckett: Why did the stadium get so hot after the game?
I stare at the text, blinking.
Me: I don’t know, why?
Beckett: Because all the fans left.
Me: Still terrible.
Beckett: Yeah, but did it make you smile again?
I look at my reflection in the darkened window of my office. There’s a genuine tug at the corner of my mouth.
Me: Yes.
Beckett: Worth it.
I set the phone aside, but this time, the silence in the room doesn’t feel quite so heavy. I pick up my pen and get back to work.