The Attorney
MARY’S POV:
“Mary.” Her voice was warm, familiar. “It’s been so long. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I need to ask you something.”
“Of course. Anything.”
“I’m getting divorced. I need a lawyer.”
Silence.
Long, heavy, uncomfortable silence.
I could hear her breathing on the other end of the line. Could hear the rustle of papers, the click of a keyboard, the quiet sound of someone trying to figure out how to say no.
“Mary,” she said finally, “I want to help you. I really do. But… Alistair Vane is one of our biggest donors. If I take your case, I’ll lose my job. And so will half the people in this firm.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? I’m so sorry. I wish I could-”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand.”
We said goodbye. I hung up the phone.
And then I sat there, in the empty kitchen, and I let the silence swallow me whole.
The last lawyer I met with was a woman named Eleanor Cross.
She was in her late fifties, with silver-streaked hair pulled back in a tight bun and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her office was small, cluttered with stacks of files and overflowing bookshelves. A single window looked out onto a narrow alley, the light filtering through dusty blinds.

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