第4章

Back then, everyone treated Floyd’s words as a joke.

After all, Preston was just a junior at Stanford, busy with fraternity parties and sailing regattas, with zero interest in the law.

And Floyd, though in his sixties, was healthy and full of energy. It looked like he had at least another decade of work in him.

No one could have predicted that fate would rewrite everything on one rainy night.

It was my fifth year with the firm.

A phone call jolted me awake at three in the morning.

“Victoria, something’s happened,” the secretary’s voice was shaking. “Floyd was in a car accident on his way home.”

At the hospital, I saw Preston for the last time before he became my boss.

He held his father’s hand, the grief in his eyes raw and real.

“Victoria,” Floyd said with his last breath, “take care of the firm. And take care of Preston.”

After the funeral, Preston officially took over.

At first, I thought he would continue his father’s legacy—focusing on professional excellence, with victory as the ultimate measure.

I was wrong.

In the very first partners’ meeting he called, Preston laid out his new vision:

“Times have changed. Legal skills aren’t enough. Client relations are king.”

“We need to learn how to package ourselves, how to market ourselves, how to make the clients feel good.”

“We can outsource the technical details, but we have to own the client’s heart.”

From that day on, the firm’s hiring criteria quietly shifted.

Law school grades and trial experience were no longer the priority. “Social skills” and “client maintenance” were.

The office got a lavish makeover. Client meetings became golf games and yacht parties.

The final straw for me was when Preston started slashing the budget for legal research while pouring money into PR and marketing.

Chloe was the perfect example of this new philosophy.

Young, beautiful, a natural socializer who could play eighteen holes with a client and not break a sweat.

Her law school record was mediocre. Her trial experience was nonexistent. But Preston was completely taken with her.

“This is what the lawyer of the future looks like,” he told me more than once, praising her.

And I, the “dinosaur” who had won the firm countless victories, was slowly being pushed to the side.

A month passed.

I started sending out my resume, looking for a new position.

There were five top-tier firms in San Francisco, and I was confident I could get an interview at any of them.

The first rejection came quickly: “Thank you for your application, but we do not have a suitable position at this time.”

The second was more direct: “We’re sorry, but we don’t feel your style is a good fit for our culture.”

The third firm didn’t even reply.

The HR director at the fourth firm called me personally.

“Victoria, frankly, we admire your record. But… there are rumors, and we have to be cautious.”

“What rumors?”

“People are saying you’re emotionally unstable, that there are ethical concerns… some are even suggesting you may have taken kickbacks from opposing counsel…”

My blood ran cold.

“That is a complete fabrication!”

“I’m sure it is, but you know how small this circle is. Reputation is everything…”

After I hung up, it all clicked.

Preston had poisoned the well across the entire San Francisco legal community.

He wasn’t just trying to ruin my career; he was trying to burn every bridge behind me.

The reply from the fifth firm was the most humiliating:

“Given the recent ethical questions surrounding your professional conduct, we cannot consider your application. We suggest you resolve these matters before seeking further employment.”

I threw my phone onto the sofa, furious.

“That bastard!” My mother’s face was pale with anger after reading the emails. “I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind!”

“It’s no use, Mom,” I said, feeling a strange calm settle over me. “This just proves how scared he is.”

“But if he’s doing this, how will you ever work in this town again?”

I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the vineyards.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the green vines. It was beautiful.

“Mom, believe me,” I said. “He’s going to come crawling to my door, begging me to come back. And soon.”

“What?” she asked, skeptical.

“Preston thinks he’s won by getting rid of me,” I said, a cold smile touching my lips. “But he forgot one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m the only one there who can actually fight a real battle. And in law, there’s never a shortage of battles.”

And then, my phone rang.

Flashing on the screen was the name “Preston.”

I hit answer and put it on speaker.

“Victoria?” It was Preston. His voice was shredded. The arrogance was gone, replaced by pure, uncut panic. “I need you at the Titan Project client’s office. Right now. It’s an emergency!”

“The losing party filed an appeal, citing a procedural flaw in a key piece of our evidence. The client is furious, and this has to be fixed today!”

The background was a mess of noise, with faint sounds of shouting.

I let the silence hang for a beat. Then, my voice as smooth as glass, I said, “Preston, I think you have the wrong number.”

I smiled.

“For a legal emergency? You need to call Chloe. After all, you paid two million dollars for her people skills.”