Her Toxic Desire
I was practicing a new kind of law—a law that was inextricably tied to the soil, the seasons, and the survival of the people who worked it.
"You're doing exactly what you did in London," Davis said one night, his voice devoid of judgment but heavy with observation. He was standing by the window, watching the firelight flicker in the encroaching dark. "You're taking on the burdens of others. You're building a new firm, Charity. Only this one doesn't have a name."
I looked up from a survey document, the ink smeared by the humidity of the room. "It’s different, Davis. In London, I was protecting the assets of the wealthy. Here, I'm protecting the livelihood of the vulnerable. Is there no moral
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