Chapter 5: Trapped

 

Emma sat in her car in the parking garage for fifteen minutes before she could make herself move.

Her hands were still shaking. Her chest felt too tight. Every breath took conscious effort.

Alexandra Richardson was her supervising partner.

For eight weeks.

Minimum.

Emma pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. This couldn't be happening. There had to be a way out. Some loophole, some policy, some—

Her phone rang. Sarah.

Emma took a shaky breath and answered. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. You okay? Your text sounded weird."

"I'm fine. Just—work stuff."

"Want to talk about it?"

No. God, no. How could she possibly explain this to Sarah?

Oh, by the way, remember that woman from college I told you about? The one who broke my heart? She just became my boss.

"It's boring legal stuff," Emma lied. "I'll tell you at dinner."

"Okay." Sarah's voice was warm, trusting. "I'm proud of you, you know. Fifty million dollar case. That's huge."

"Yeah. Huge."

They talked for a few more minutes, Sarah's morning rounds, a difficult patient, plans for dinner. Normal things. Safe things.

Emma hung up feeling worse than before.

She started the car and drove. Not home—she couldn't face her empty apartment right now. Instead, she found herself heading to the only place that had help her clear her head whenever she is confused.

Twenty minutes later, Emma stood outside Morrison's office, gathering her courage.

She could do this. She could walk in there and explain that she needed to be reassigned. Professional conflict. Work load issues. Anything.

She knocked.

"Come in."

Morrison looked up from his computer as Emma entered. "Ms. Parker. What can I do for you?"

Emma closed the door behind her. "I need to discuss the Bennett case assignment."

Morrison's eyebrows rose. "Problem?"

"Not exactly. I just—" Emma chose her words carefully. "I'm concerned about the working dynamic with Ms. Richardson."

"Concerned how?"

"We knew each other in college. It was brief, but—" Emma paused. How much should she say? "It ended badly. I'm worried it might affect our ability to work together effectively."

Morrison leaned back in his chair, studying her. "I see. And by 'ended badly,' you mean...?"

"We had a disagreement. About career paths and legal ethics back then. It was a long time ago, but—"

"But you're worried old tensions might resurface."

"Yes."

Morrison was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You know I brought Alex here specifically for the IP practice. She's one of the best in the country."

"I know."

"And you're one of my top associates. This case is the perfect opportunity for you to show what you can do at the senior level."

"I understand that, but—"

"Emma." Morrison's voice was kind but firm. "I've been practicing law for over thirty years. I've seen every kind of interpersonal dynamic you can imagine. Former colleagues, ex-spouses, people who genuinely can't stand each other, and you know what? The best ones find a way to work together anyway. Because they're professionals."

Emma's stomach sank. "So you're not going to reassign me."

"No, I'm not. This case is too important, and you're too good." Morrison stood, walked around his desk. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two in college, and I don't need to know. What I need is for you both to put it aside and do your jobs. Can you do that?"

Emma wanted to say no. Wanted to explain that it wasn't just a disagreement, that Alex had broken her heart so thoroughly she'd spent years learning how to function without one that she has ended up not having one anymore.

But Morrison was looking at her expectantly. And she needed this case. Needed to prove she could handle senior-level work.

"Yes," Emma heard herself say. "I can do that."

"Good. Because I'm counting on you." Morrison's expression grew more serious. "I know this is difficult. But you've overcome difficult before. You came to this firm wanting to prove your worth, and you proved it. Don't let old history stop your career from soaring higher now."

Emma nodded, throat too tight for words.

"Meeting tomorrow at nine," Morrison continued. "I want to see your preliminary strategy. You and Alex, presenting together. United front. Can you handle that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Now go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day."

Emma left Morrison's office feeling like she'd been punched in the gut.

There was no way out. She was trapped. Eight weeks minimum of working closely with Alexandra Richardson, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

She walked quickly through the hallways, keeping her head down, praying she wouldn't run into anyone who—

"Emma! Wait up!"

Oh damn!

David. Of course.

He jogged to catch up with her. "I've been looking everywhere for you. How'd it go with Morrison?"

"He said no."

"Shit. You asked for reassignment?"

"Of course I asked for reassignment. He refused." Emma kept walking. "Said we need to be professionals and put our history aside."

"Can you do that?"

Emma didn't answer. They reached the elevator bank. She jabbed the button.

"Em. Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say, David? That I'm fine? That I can handle working with the woman who—" She stopped, aware of other associates nearby.

The elevator dinged. They stepped inside. As soon as the doors closed, David turned to her.

"The woman who what?"

Emma closed her eyes. "Who made me believe in something that wasn't real. Who let me fall in love with her and then told me it didn't matter. That “I” didn't matter."

"Emma..."

"I was eighteen, David. Eighteen and stupid and so in love I couldn't see straight. And she—" Emma's voice cracked. "She looked me in the eye and told me it was just college, that we are too young to know what we want. Just a phase. That we needed to move on, like it was nothing."

"That's brutal."

"Yeah." Emma wiped at her eyes. "And now I have to work with her. Pretend none of it happened. Be professional."

The elevator reached the parking level. The doors opened.

Emma stepped out, David following. "I should go. Sarah's expecting me for dinner."

"Are you going to tell her? About Alex?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Probably not. "I need to figure out how to survive tomorrow first."

"You'll get through this," David said. "You're the strongest person I know."

Emma wanted to believe him. But as she walked to her car, she felt anything but strong.

She felt like eighteen-year-old Emma Parker, standing in Alex's dorm room, asking "Why?" and getting an answer that shattered her world.

Emma drove home in a daze. Changed out of her suit into sweats. Tried to focus on preparing for tomorrow's presentation as she got ready to meet with Sarah for their dinner.

Now that she is home she couldn't focus on anything except the memory of Alex's face in that conference room. The shock. The recognition. The guilt.

At least Alex felt guilty. That was something.

Emma's phone buzzed.

Alex: I'm sorry.

Two words. That was it.

Emma stared at the message. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could ignore it. Could delete it. Could—

Emma: Sorry doesn't change anything. Meeting tomorrow at 9. Be prepared.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself.

Three dots appeared. Alex was typing.

Emma watched them pulse. Waited.

The dots disappeared. No message came.

Good. What could Alex possibly say that would make any of this better?

Emma turned off her phone and tried to sleep.

She couldn't.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alex. Not the polished thirty-four-year-old senior partner in the expensive suit. The twenty-one-year-old with messy hair and coffee-stained t-shirts who'd stayed up all night helping Emma study for her Constitutional Law exam.

The Alex who'd kissed her for the first time in the empty mock trial courtroom and whispered, "I've wanted to do that for weeks."

The Alex who'd held her face in both hands and said, "You're going to change the world someday, Emma Parker."

That Alex had been a lie.

Or maybe that Alex had been real, and this one was the lie.

Emma didn't know anymore.

At 2 AM, she gave up on sleep. Got up, made coffee, pulled up the Bennett case files on her laptop.

Work. She could focus on work.

By 5 AM, she had a complete preliminary case strategy outlined. By 6 AM, she'd prepared a presentation deck. By 7 AM, she'd rehearsed it three times.

Professional. Competent.

She could do this.