Chapter Eight

The morning of the first hearing, I wake up at five.

Not because my alarm goes off. Because my eyes just open, like my body knew before my mind caught up to what today was.

I lie in the dark for exactly one minute.

Then I get up.

I had laid out my outfit the night before. Black suit, clean lines, white blouse. Heels that add two inches but don't slow me down. I iron out a wrinkle I find near the jacket sleeve, brush my hair back, keep the earrings small and gold. Simple. Sharp. sensible heels that still made me feel taller when I walked into a room.

My mom calls at six thirty.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Good," I say.

A pause. "Maya."

"I'm nervous," I say. "Happy now?"

"I'm not happy about you being nervous. I just want the truth." She is quiet for a second. "You have trained for this for ten years. You know that case better than the people in it. And whatever happens with, whatever else is in that courtroom today, it does not change any of that."

"I know, Mom."

"Call me after."

"I will."

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too."

I hang up and finish my coffee standing at the window, watching the early morning traffic move below. New York at six forty-five looks like a city still deciding whether to wake up.

Jade texts at seven.

You're going to destroy him. In the legal sense. Obviously.

I laugh out loud. Short and real. I text back a thumbs up and go to get my bag.

The courthouse is a building I know well. I have walked through those doors more times than I can count over the last five years. It’s familiar kind of serious marble floors, high ceilings, the particular silence that settles when you step inside. I know which elevator takes longest. I know the security guard on the east entrance, a man named Bernard who always nods and says, "Counselor."

"Counselor," Bernard says this morning, and waves me through.

Priya is already in the hallway outside the courtroom, holding two cups of coffee and a folder.

She looks immaculate dark blazer, hair in a sleek ponytail , and when she sees me she straightens up like a soldier.

"They're not here yet," she says quietly. She hands me a coffee.

"Okay." I take it. I breathe.

"You have the opening framework memorized?"

"I could say it in my sleep."

"The Redfield precedent?"

"Priya."

She exhales. "Right. You know everything. I know you know everything."

We stand there for a moment, both of us facing the courtroom doors.

"I did some more research last night," she says carefully. "On E. Harrington." A beat. "He's — he has a strong reputation. Aggressive in cross-examination. Very precise."

"I know," I say.

"He won the Alderton case last year. Six-week trial. The other side had a great lawyer."

"Priya." I look at her. "I know who I'm walking in to face."

She nods. Wisely decides to stop talking.

I look at the courtroom doors. Dark wood and small square windows set into them, the kind you can't quite see through. Behind them is the room where this case begins. The room where months of work will come down to arguments and evidence and the ability to stand in front of a judge and make the truth land.

I have done this before. I am good at this.

But my heart is doing something it should not be doing.

I hear them before I see them.

Footsteps and voices from down the hall. A group of them, I hear Carter's laugh before anything else. That specific, rolling laugh that I used to hear echoing through a college apartment. My whole body goes still for one half second.

I don't turn around.

I hear the footsteps slow as they approach. I hear the conversation quiet.

Then I hear Priya, beside me, make a very small sound under her breath.

And I know.

I turn around.

He is taller than I remembered. Or maybe I just forgot. He is wearing a charcoal suit, white shirt, no tie, open at the collar, just slightly. His hair is shorter than it was in college, neat now, but still that same dark color. His jaw is the same. Those eyes are the same.

He is looking at me.

Carter is standing slightly behind him and to the left, and Carter's expression, usually so easy and unbothered, has gone a little careful. There are two other associates with them, both young, both watching Ethan for their cue.

None of that matters.

The only thing in this hallway is the twelve feet of distance between me and the man I married at twenty-two. The man I used to know better than anyone. The man who signed a paper that took his name back from me and left a silence that took years to fill.

He looks older. Not in a bad way. In the way that means he has lived in the years between then and now. There are lines near his eyes that weren't there before. He holds himself differently more certain, more settled. Like a man who has made peace with what he is.

He opens his mouth.

"Maya," he says.

Not Ms. Collins. Not Counselor. Just Maya. My name in his voice, the same as it always was. Quiet and a little careful, like he is trying it out after a very long time.

Something tightens in my chest. I tell it to stop.

"Ethan," I say.

And that is all. That is the entire reunion. Six years reduced to two first names in a courthouse hallway.

Carter steps forward with his hand out. "Maya. Long time."

"Carter." I shake it. Firm. Professional.

"You look great," he says, and he seems to mean it.

"Thank you." I glance at the associates behind them. "Your team?"

"Yes. This is Derek and Anika." He gestures as he says the names. Derek nods. Anika smiles cautiously.

I introduce Priya. Everyone shakes hands. It is all very civilized. It is all completely surreal.

The bailiff opens the courtroom door.

"Parties in the Mercer matter?" he calls.

"That's us," I say, and I walk through the door first.