She wasn’t hungry, but she unwrapped a sandwich anyway and took a bite. The morning had been long, and the afternoon would be longer.
Rachel spread her notes across the table. “The afternoon should be straightforward. I don’t anticipate any surprises.”
“And the document production?" Valerie asked. She'd taken a sandwich but hadn't opened it, her attention fixed on Rachel.
“Judge Whitcombe will probably split the difference. We'll get access to the financial records, but Gerald will win some concessions on the proprietary business documents." Rachel made a note on her legal pad. "It's not everything we wanted, but it's enough to work with."
Miller chewed mechanically, her mind drifting back to the courtroom. She kept seeing Astoria's face during Gerald's argument, that moment when her eyes had closed and the visible effort of pulling herself back together. The way she'd gripped her pen like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“She looked rough today,” Valerie said.
Miller glanced up to find Valerie watching her, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Astoria,” Valerie clarified, though they both knew it wasn’t necessary. "Did you see her? She looked exhausted, like she hasn't slept in weeks." The smile sharpened into satisfaction."Good. She should be exhausted. She should be losing sleep over what she did to me."
Rachel made a noncommittal sound, still focused on her notes, and Miller stayed silent.
She should agree. Valerie was her client, and Astoria was the opposing party, the woman who, according to everything Valerie had told them, had spent over a decade making her feel small and invisible. If Astoria was struggling, that meant the pressure was working and their strategy was having an effect.
But the satisfaction in Valerie's voice didn't sit right. It landed somewhere uncomfortable in Miller's chest and stayed there.
Rachel set down her pen. “Let’s focus on what we can control. The document production ruling will come this afternoon, and we need to be ready to pivot either way.”
Miller nodded, grateful for the redirect. She picked at her sandwich, pulling a piece of crust free and setting it aside.
Valerie finally unwrapped her own sandwich, taking a delicate bite. “I want to be there for her deposition. When we finally get her under oath, I want to watch her squirm.”
“That’s your right as a party to the proceedings,” Rachel said evenly. “Though I'd recommend we discuss strategy before?—”
“I know how to behave in a deposition, Rachel.” Valerie’s tone cooled slightly. “I’ve sat through enough of them.”
A brief silence settled over the table. Miller took another bite of her sandwich but didn’t taste it.
She thought about what Nadia had said, weeks ago now, looking at a newspaper photo of Astoria: “She looked exhausted. All that buttoned-up composure, but her eyes... I've seen that look before.”
Miller had dismissed it then. It wasn't her job to feel sorry for the opposing party.
But watching Astoria in that courtroom this morning, Miller couldn't shake the feeling that she was seeing something she wasn't supposed to see. Something real, beneath all those protective layers.
It didn't change the facts of the case. It didn't change what Valerie had told them about the marriage, the manipulation, the slow erosion of her confidence and autonomy. It just made everything feel more complicated than Miller wanted it to be.
“Miller?” Rachel's voice cut through her thoughts. “You with us?”
“Sorry.” Miller straightened. “Just thinking about the afternoon session.”
Rachel studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Let’s review the remaining motions. I want to be ready for whatever Gerald throws at us.”
Miller pulled her legal pad toward her and focused on the work. She didn’t think about Astoria’s exhaustion or Valerie’s satisfaction or the strange weight that had settled in her chest sometime during the morning session.
She didn’t think about any of it…
For about thirty seconds.
Then the conference room door opened, and the bailiff announced that court would resume in ten minutes, and Miller gathered her files and followed Rachel back toward the courtroom. And despite her best efforts, her gaze found the petitioner’s table before she’d even fully entered the room, searching for a charcoal suit worn by a woman who looked like she was barely holding herself together.
Astoria was already seated, her posture as perfect as ever, her face revealing nothing.
Miller took her seat at the respondent’s table and opened her legal pad to a new page. The afternoon stretched ahead of them, hours more of arguments and motions. She picked upher pen and trained her attention on the judge’s bench. But the observations from the morning lingered underneath, quiet and persistent, refusing to be ignored.
