All Chapters of SECOND VERDICT: Chapter 61 - Chapter 65

Present Day – Tuesday MorningAlex had been in Morrison's chair for four days and had already developed the habit of arriving before anyone else.Not because she needed the time to prepare. Because the building in the early morning, before the day's competing pressures arrived, was the only version of it where she could think without someone needing something from her. She made her own coffee in Morrison's break room. Sat at his desk with his view of the Financial District waking up below and read through the overnight case updates and the billing reports and the staffing requests that had accumulated since the previous afternoon.It was not Morrison's job yet. It might never be Morrison's job in the formal sense. But for however long he needed, it was hers, and she was going to do it the way she did everything, completely and without hedging.Emma had left for a run at six. Alex had watched her go from the window, the familiar sight of Emma in her running clothes heading east toward

Alex stood frozen for half a second.Not because of the cameras. Not because of the questions coming through the glass in overlapping waves. Because of one sentence that had cut through all of it and landed somewhere precise.*Did Emma Parker deserve her career... or did you give it to her?*The words hit like a fist to the ribs.Security closed around her immediately. "Ms. Richardson. Please." The guard's hand hovered near her elbow without quite touching it, the practiced discretion of someone who understood that the woman beside him did not want to be steered.Alex pulled her eyes away from the reporters and walked back toward the elevators. She could feel the cameras tracking every step through the reinforced glass, could feel the particular weight of being watched by people whose entire purpose in that moment was to find something in her face worth broadcasting.She gave them nothing.By the time the elevator doors closed her phone had vibrated seven times. She didn't look at the

Nobody spoke.The office had become strangely small, the walls closer than they had been an hour ago, the air heavier. The newspapers still covered Morrison's conference table, every photograph an intrusion — moments that had belonged only to the two of them, now printed and distributed to strangers buying coffee on the way to work.Patricia broke the silence first. "I'll give you both a minute."She closed the door behind her with a quiet click that seemed to echo longer than it should have.Emma picked up the Bennett email again. She made herself read every word this time, all the way through, without stopping.There was no anger in it. That was the worst part. Anger she could have worked with, could have pushed back against, could have answered with evidence and argument and the eighteen months of work she had put into their case. Instead the letter was written in the careful, polished language of corporate counsel who understood that the most damaging things were best said without