“We’re practically doing a charity case here.”
I felt heat rise in my throat.
I swallowed it.
Evidence.
That was what this was now.
Evidence.
I walked closer.
“More champagne, sir?”
Sterling didn’t even look at me.
“Keep it coming,” he said. “And try not to spill anything on the Italian leather.”
“Of course, sir.”
My voice remained calm.
Small.
Forgettable.
The perfect voice for someone nobody considered important.
Then a young server named Sophia approached Madison’s group carrying a tray of crab cakes.
Her hands were visibly trembling.
“Hors d’oeuvre, Miss Thorne?”
Madison turned toward her as though she’d been personally insulted.
“God, no.”
She stepped back.
“I specifically said no shellfish near the bridal party. Are you trying to kill me, or are you simply incompetent?”
Sophia’s face went white.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Clearly, you don’t know much,” Madison snapped. “Go away before you ruin the dress.”
Sophia stepped backward too quickly.
Her tray bumped a high-top table.
A champagne glass tipped over.
A few drops splashed onto the marble floor.
Not Madison.
Not her dress.
Just the floor.
Sterling laughed loudly.
“You see this, Ethan?” he called across the room. “This is why we pay for the VIP package. Good help isn’t just hard to find anymore. It’s extinct.”
Ethan took a step forward.
Madison placed a hand against his chest and stopped him.
I moved instead.
I knelt beside Sophia on the cold marble.
“It’s only water and grapes,” I told her quietly, pulling a cloth from my apron. “It’ll wipe right up.”
“I’m going to get fired,” she whispered.
“You won’t.”
I looked directly into her frightened eyes.
“I promise.”
Then I stood.
For a brief moment, Madison looked uncertain.
Perhaps something in my expression didn’t fit the role she had assigned me.
Perhaps she finally noticed that there was something different about the woman wearing the apron.
But the moment passed.
“All clean, miss,” I said.
“About time,” Madison muttered.
I walked away.
I already knew more about that family than they realized.
But Sterling had not finished talking.
A few minutes later, the partners gathered near the windows.
Their voices dropped.
I moved closer with a champagne bottle in my hand.
Sterling was speaking now about business.
“The Meridian antitrust merger is practically done,” he said. “Forty billion dollars. Biggest payout this firm has seen in a decade.”
One of the senior partners shifted uneasily.
“The Department of Justice is watching closely,” he said. “And the case was assigned to Judge Vance in the Second Circuit. I’ve heard she’s meticulous.”
Sterling laughed.
“Lydia Vance?”
My hand stopped for half a second.
“Please. She’s a diversity hire with a bleeding heart. She cares about feelings, not fiscal quarters.”
I said nothing.
I poured another glass.
Then came the sentence that changed the entire evening.
“What about the environmental reports?” another partner asked.
Sterling took a slow drink.
“She won’t see them.”
The group became quiet.
“We buried the toxicity reports in discovery,” he continued. “Box four thousand. Right between cafeteria receipts and parking validation logs.”
He smiled.
“She doesn’t have the time—or the brainpower—to dig through two million pages.”
My pulse slowed.
I kept my face expressionless.
Then Sterling continued.
“And Madison got the solicitor general internship.”
One partner looked surprised.
Sterling shrugged.
“A few administrative adjustments. Some state-school nobody with a perfect LSAT score got misplaced.”
My eyes immediately went toward the service entrance.
Sophia was sitting on a milk crate beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.
Her LSAT book was open on her lap.
The pages were dog-eared.
Blue ink covered the margins.
She had been studying while working the reception.
A young woman trying to build a future while people in the ballroom casually discussed how hers had been taken away.
