“It’s a good challenge,” Miller said. “Rachel is trusting me with real responsibility, and I don’t want to let her down.”
“You won’t.” Nadia said it with the simple confidence of someone who had never doubted her daughter’s abilities. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself in the process. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”
“I know, Mom.”
Nadia pulled her into one last hug, holding on a beat longer than usual. "We're proud of you. Whatever happens with the case, you know that, right?"
“I know. Thanks, Mom.”
She walked to her car, the foil-wrapped pie warm in her hands, and glanced back to see Nadia still standing in the doorway. She waved, and Nadia waved back before finally stepping inside.
The drive home was quiet, Sunday evening traffic light on the familiar roads. Miller let her mind wander through the week ahead. She had discovery documents to finalize, a strategy session with Rachel on Tuesday, and depositions to schedule. The Shepry case had taken over her calendar, and she wasn't complaining.
She thought about what Nadia had said, that she seemed more engaged. And it was true. For the past year, maybe longer, work had felt like something she was good at rather thansomething she loved. She'd stopped noticing when that shift happened, the slow slide from passion to competence. But this case had woken something up inside her.
It was the challenge of it, the stakes, the complexity of untangling a marriage between two formidable women.
Astoria’s deposition was still weeks away, but Miller was already thinking about it. Gerald Bracks would prepare her thoroughly—the woman clearly didn't leave anything to chance—but depositions had a way of revealing things that preparation couldn't hide. After hours of questioning, the same ground covered from different angles, even the most controlled witness eventually showed cracks.
Miller wondered what Astoria would be like under that kind of pressure. In the mediation, she'd been unreadable, every response measured and precise. But Nadia had seen exhaustion in a news photo, and Miller had seen that flicker during Valerie's accusations, that split-second reaction before the mask snapped back into place.
There wassomethingunderneath all that armor. Miller was certain of it.
She pulled into her apartment complex and parked in her usual spot. The building was modest, a far cry from whatever Cliffside mansion Astoria Shepry probably went home to, but it was hers. She’d painted the walls herself, picked out every piece of furniture, and cultivated the jungle of houseplants that lined her windowsills.
Inside, she set the pie in the fridge and checked her phone, seeing a few work emails, nothing urgent. She’d deal with them in the morning.
She changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch with her laptop, pulling up the discovery documents she’d been reviewing all week. The preliminary hearing was still a month away, but there was always more to prepare. AstoriaShepry didn’t miss anything, which meant Miller couldn’t afford to either.
She worked for an hour, making notes and flagging questions for Rachel. The apartment was quiet around her, just the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional car passing outside. It was peaceful, the kind of solitude she’d always valued.
But tonight, for some reason, it felt emptier than usual.
She closed the laptop and stared at the dark window, her reflection ghosted against the glass. Nadia’s words drifted back to her: “You dated him for eleven months and never brought him here for Sunday dinner.”
It was true; she’d never brought Marcus home or Kevin before him or any of the men she’d dated over the years. They were nice guys, all of them, and she’d kept them at arm’s length without ever quite realizing she was doing it.
“Easy isn’t the same as right.”
Miller didn’t even know what “right” was supposed to feel like. She’d assumed the fireworks and butterflies were the stuff of romance novels and films. Real relationships were built on compatibility and shared values, not some mythical spark that made your heart race.
That’s what she’d always believed, anyway.
She shook off the thought and headed to bed. Tomorrow was Monday, and she had a deadline to meet. These discovery documents wouldn’t organize themselves, and Rachel was counting on her.
She set her alarm for six and let sleep pull her under. Good cases made good attorneys, and good opponents sharpened skills. And Astoria Shepry was the most formidable opponent she’d faced in years.
Nothing more complicated than that.
6
Chapter 6: Astoria
The last of the cleaning crew had left an hour ago, and the twenty-fifth floor had gone silent.
Astoria sat in the pool of light from her desk lamp, the rest of her office swallowed by shadows. Rain streaked the windows behind her, the spring storm that had been threatening all day finally arriving with the darkness. Beyond the glass, Phoenix Ridge glittered wet and distant, a city of people going about their evening while she excavated the wreckage of her marriage one document at a time.
The discovery folder lay open on the desk, pages flagged with colored tabs in her precise color-coded system: yellow for relevant, pink for privileged, and green for producible. Gerald needed her review by Friday. She’d told him she’d have it done by Wednesday because that’s what she did—exceeded expectations, maintained control, and proved she could handle anything, even when it felt like she couldn’t.
