Chapter 1

The moment I pushed open the door to Preston’s office, the whispering started behind me.

“Look, there she is. Face like she just lost a case.”

“Two million dollars. Poof. Gone. I’d be screaming bloody murder.”

“What’s the point of losing it? She couldn’t hold onto it. Who’s to blame but herself? Preston was right. It’s all about people skills.”

“Seriously. Chloe’s out there hustling. Victoria? She bolts at five on the dot. Every. Single. Day. Did she really think she could coast and still get all the credit? Delusional.”

A voice, sharp and laced with venom, cut through the chatter. Brenda.

The assistant who used to trail me like a shadow. “You ask me, she thought her track record made her untouchable. Well, she overplayed her hand. Serves her right!”

“Totally. Acted like the firm would collapse without her. But Chloe steps in, and suddenly client satisfaction is through the roof! Makes you wonder how much of that ‘star lawyer’ title was just hype.”

“I heard she was running off to Napa all last month. Family stuff, I guess?”

“Please. Who doesn’t have family stuff? Is she special?”

“Right? And her courtroom style is so outdated. Way too aggressive. All lone wolf, zero political sense. Getting fired was inevitable.”

“Giving the two million to Chloe was the right call. It encourages new talent.”

Their words were daggers wrapped in cotton candy. Sweet, sticky, and designed to draw blood.

They seemed to have forgotten the last nine years—how I’d cornered opponents in court, how I’d won one impossible case after another for this firm.

All they saw was me “leaving on time” for the past month.

Especially Brenda.

Three years ago, she was a fresh-faced grad, practically begging me to let her on a project.

I taught her everything. How to draft a motion, line by painful line.

I dragged her to court so she could see a real argument up close.

I even fed her cases to build her name.

And now, her voice was the loudest, calling me a useless has-been.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped, turned, and walked straight to Brenda’s cubicle.

She was mid-sentence, a smug sneer on her face.

My eyes fell to the crystal gavel on her desk, engraved with “Outstanding Contribution: Golden Gate Capital Case.”

It was a custom memento the firm had made after I led the team to a landmark victory last year.

Her name was on it.

I snatched it up, meeting her terrified gaze.

“Victoria, what are you doing—?” Brenda shrieked.

I raised the gavel high.

I stared her down, my voice dropping to a low whisper. “This was never yours.”

Smash!

The crystal exploded against the marble floor. Shards flew everywhere.

The entire office went dead silent.

Everyone froze, avoiding my eyes.

Brenda’s face flushed red, then went white. Her lips trembled, but no words came out.

I swept my gaze across the room. One by one, they flinched, suddenly fascinated by their keyboards.

“Remember this moment,” I said to the room. “The next time you talk about me, remember who won you those team bonuses.”

I turned and walked to my partner’s office.

Pushing the door open, I started clearing my desk.

A framed photo caught my eye.

It was from the celebration two years ago, after our team won its first billion-dollar case.

In the picture, Preston was giving me a thumbs-up, telling everyone I was the pride of the firm.

The irony was suffocating.

I sat down and opened a drawer to pack my personal things.

Nine years.

I fought for this firm for nine whole years.

Countless nights spent buried in case law in the library.

Seventy-two hours straight without sleep to prep a key motion.

Pulling all-nighters to perfect the wording of a single deposition.

I remembered the victories.

After the Golden Gate Capital win, the entire firm got a paid vacation and a fat bonus.

When the Bay Tech verdict came in, Preston called me a genius in front of everyone.

When the Diamond Investment case settled, the client CC’d the whole firm on an email praising my work.

Back then, they all orbited me, treated me like a rock star.

Now they called me a “lone wolf.”

I picked up another photo from my desk.

It was from my father's last time attending one of my trials. He was sitting in the gallery, his eyes filled with pride.

“What would Dad think of all this?” I murmured to myself.

Last month, my mother had a sudden, critical health crisis at her home in Napa Valley.

The main arguments of the case were over. We were in the tedious, but less technical, closing stages.

I couldn’t be in two places at once, so I delegated.

It was Chloe, that eager, humble young lawyer, who came to me. She offered to take on more work so I could go be with my family.

I was so grateful. I handed off most of the repetitive tasks to her.

I even praised her in a partners’ meeting, saying she was a proactive, dependable team player.

I never imagined she’d just slap a new cover page on my legal memos. Or pass off my all-nighters in the law library as her own “brilliant research.” Or present my entire trial strategy as her own damn idea.

And I never, ever imagined they would twist the truth so cruelly.

That the client dinners I missed to sit by my dying mother’s bedside would be weaponized against me. The final nail in the coffin, labeling me as “not a team player.”