“Maybe. But their lawyers will fight every request.” Diane’s expression was sympathetic but realistic. “You prepared for that?”
“I’m prepared to fight every objection they throw at me.”
She studied me for a moment. “Proceed carefully. Expect aggressive opposition. And don’t take it personally when their lawyers come at you with everything they have.”
The meeting wrapped up with cautious approval to move forward. I gathered my notes, already mentally drafting the next round of discovery requests.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Sam
Event tonight. Alumni networking thing. You coming?
I’d forgotten about it entirely.
Gianna
Fine. But I’m not changing clothes.
Sam
Bold choice. I respect it.
I arrived at the event an hour late, still wearing what I’d worn to the presentation—slacks and a blouse that looked professional but definitely not expensive. The kind of outfit that screamed “law student” instead of “successful alum.”
The venue was nice though. Top floor of some building near campus, big windows overlooking the city, warm lighting that made everything look more expensive. Waiters circulated with wine and appetizers.
Alumni in tailored suits clustered in groups, talking about cases and firms and opportunities with the easy confidence of people who’d already made it. I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and tried to look like I belonged here.
Sam found me within five minutes. “You actually came.”
“You would have harassed me for weeks if I didn’t.”
“True.” He was dressed better than usual—actual suit instead of his usual blazer and jeans combination. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes. That’s literally the point of networking. You talk to people, they remember you exist, maybe someone offers you a job that pays actual money instead of clinic stipends.”
He dragged me around the room for twenty minutes. I shook hands with partners at firms I’d never heard of, made small talk with alumni who all seemed to know each other from law review or moot court or some other shared experience I wasn’t part of. My wine disappeared faster than I intended, so I grabbed another glass.
Then I saw him.
Archie stood near the windows across the room, wine glass in hand, looking polished in a dark suit that fit him perfectly.
My heart did something stupid in my chest.
He noticed me at the same moment I noticed him.
For a second—just a flash—his expression shifted into something I couldn’t quite read. Surprise maybe, or something sharper, almost like panic. But then his expression smoothed into something more neutral and I wondered if I’d imagined it.
We moved toward each other without discussing it, like gravity pulling us together across the crowded room. I was very aware of every step, of the wine glass in my hand, of how I probably looked compared to everyone else here.
“Gianna.” He said my name like he was relieved and worried at the same time.
“Archie.” I stopped in front of him, suddenly very aware that I was still in my presentation clothes and he looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“A friend invited me. Said it would be good networking.” He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m starting to think he lied.”
