“I have a deposition there at the same time. Harmon Properties.”
“I’ll see you in the lobby then.” He paused at the door. “We just need to keep being patient.”
She nodded, the appropriate response to the appropriate reassurance. Gerald left, and the office settled into silence once more.
Astoria stared at the documents in front of her: all the financial records, employment contracts, and email chains that would prove Valerie’s claims were fabricated. It was all here, meticulously organized and ready to be weaponized in her defense.
She should feel something. Anger, maybe, or satisfaction that the truth would finally come out. But instead, she felt hollowedout, running on coffee and spite and the stubborn refusal to let Valerie win.
Gloria had left a protein bar on her desk, right where she’d left one yesterday and the day before. Astoria couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten breakfast, much less a full meal. Or the last time she’d slept without waking at three in the morning, her mind replaying some conversation, some conversation, some sign she should’ve seen years ago.
She tore open the wrapper and took a bite, chewing mechanically.
The mediation kept surfacing despite her efforts to focus. Not the legal strategy or Valerie's performance; she'd expected both. What she hadn't expected was the associate, the way Miller Scott had looked at her across that table, assessing and sharp, like she was solving a puzzle and wasn't sure she liked the picture forming.
Astoria was used to being observed. Between boardrooms, press conferences, and charity galas, she’d spent two decades being evaluated and judged. She’d built her armor specifically for those gazes, the ice queen facade that kept everyone at a professional distance.
And Miller Scott had looked at her like she could see right through it.
Ridiculous, Astoria thought, shoving the thought aside. She was exhausted. Six months of this battle had worn her down to raw nerves and made her see significance where there was none.
She finished the protein bar and threw away the wrapper. It was already two o’clock, and she needed to leave for the courthouse soon.
The Harmon deposition was routine, a dispute she could handle in her sleep that’d take an hour, maybe two, and then she’d be back at her desk building the case that would finally end this nightmare. She packed her files and checked her reflectionin the window glass. The woman looking back at her was composed and immaculate, the ice queen ready for battle.
Astoria grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
At the courthouse, security waved Astoria through before she reached the metal detector.
“Ms. Shepry, right this way.” The officer gestured toward the side entrance, already lifting the rope for her. In front of her, a dozen people waited in line with their bags and briefcases, watching as she bypassed the queue entirely.
She hadn’t asked for special treatment—she never did—but the Shepry name carried weight in Phoenix Ridge, and courthouse security apparently kept track of which faces belonged to billionaires embroiled in high-profile cases. Astoria murmured her thanks and walked through, acutely aware of the eyes following her.
Gerald fell into step beside her as they entered the main corridor. “The Murphy hearing went long. I’ll need to review the judge’s notes before the next filing.”
“Send them to me tonight. I’ll look them over after the Harmon deposition.”
The courthouse bustled with the usual afternoon traffic: attorneys in sharp suits, clerks hauling file boxes, and a few civilians looking lost among the marble and wood paneling. Astoria moved through it all with practiced efficiency, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she and Gerald discussed discovery timelines and deposition strategy.
She saw Miller Scott before her brain fully registered who she was looking at.
Miller stood near the end of the corridor, alone outside one of the smaller courtrooms, scrolling through her phone. She wore a navy blazer over a cream blouse, her hair pulled back in a low twist that left her neck exposed. She was professional, put-together, and utterly unremarkable, except that Astoria’s stride faltered for a half-step before she caught herself.
Gerald was still talking about document production deadlines, and Astoria made an appropriate noise of agreement while her mind calculated distances and angles. Only fifty feet between them, maybe less. She could keep walking, offer a polite nod in passing, and maintain?—
Miller looked up from her phone, and their eyes met across the corridor. Astoria watched recognition flicker across Miller’s face, a slight widening of the eyes and a tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there a moment ago, before she offered a small nod.
Astoria should have returned it and kept moving. That would have been the smart thing to do. She waited for the familiar detachment to set in that made interactions like this effortless, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was something else, something unsettled and nameless that made her feet slow before her mind caught up.
“Gerald, give me a minute.”
He followed her gaze to Miller and raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Astoria crossed the remaining distance before she could think better of it.
“Ms. Scott.” She kept her voice even. “Waiting on a hearing?”
Miller tucked her phone into her pocket. “A procedural matter for another client, should be quick.” She paused, something cautious in her expression. “The Harmon deposition?”
“The same.” Astoria wasn't sure why she'd stopped or what she should say now that she had. The silence between them stretched a beat too long. “The discovery deadline is in two weeks. I trust your team is prepared.”
