Astoria turned onto the coastal road, the late afternoon light gilding the water gold and copper. Spring had finally arrived in earnest, and the air through her window was soft and warm, carrying the scent of salt from the ocean. On any other day, she might have appreciated it, but today, she barely noticed.
Valerie would retaliate; that was inevitable. She’d find some way to punish Rachel and Miller for their defiance, some subtle cruelty disguised as disappointment or concern. Astoria knew that playbook, had lived it. Part of her wanted to warn Miller somehow, but that was impossible. They were on opposite sides of a lawsuit, and Miller wouldn’t believe her anyway. It’d be interpreted as the ice queen trying to turn Valerie’s own attorney against her, only confirming everything Valerie had said.
So Miller and Rachel would learn the hard way, just like everyone else eventually did.
Astoria pulled into her driveway and stopped the car, but she didn’t get out. The house rose before her, and the ocean stretched beyond the cliff’s edge. She’d bought this place afterfiling for divorce. It was smaller than the home she’d shared with Valerie, but it was all hers.
Most days, though, it just felt empty.
She sat and stared at the water through the windshield as a gull cried out somewhere nearby, a sharp and lonely sound against the waves. Miller Scott wasn’t what she’d expected. Astoria had braced for attack dogs, true believers who’d swallowed Valerie’s story whole. Yet it didn’t change anything, and the case would grind forward. Nothing that had happened today would alter that trajectory.
But something had cracked open inside her anyway. For the first time in six months, someone outside her own circle had stopped to consider the truth.
It was such a small thing that shouldn’t matter this much, yet…
She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and walked toward the front door, the ocean mist cool against her face. Hope was a liability—she knew that better than anyone—and meant lowering your guard and leaving yourself open to disappointment.
But as she stepped inside, Astoria couldn’t stop thinking about what today might mean.
9
Chapter 9: Miller
The custody hearing wrapped up faster than Miller expected.
Judge Amelia Truitt had granted the temporary modification in under twenty minutes, which meant Miller’s client—a mother who’d driven three hours for this appearance—could take her daughter to her grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party next weekend without violating the existing order. Small victory, the kind that reminded Miller why she did this work.
She picked up her files and slid them into her bag. It was barely eleven-fifteen. She could grab lunch, head back to the office, and maybe leave at a reasonable hour for once.
The hallway was quieter than she’d expected for a Thursday. A few attorneys clustered near the water fountain, their voices low, and someone’s heels clicked a retreating rhythm toward the stairwell.
Miller turned the corner toward the elevator bank and stopped short. Astoria Shepry stood alone, facing the brushed metal doors. It had been a week since the preliminary hearing, since Miller had watched Astoria's mask slip for just a moment.
Astoria glanced over as Miller approached, and her expression shifted. Her suit today was a tailored charcoal, and she held a leather folder against her chest, the kind with a gold clasp that looked like it had never seen the inside of a Target.
“Ms. Scott.” The words were neutral but not cold.
“Ms. Shepry.” Miller stopped a few feet away, settling into the universal posture of elevator waiting: forward-facing, hands clasped, eyes on the number display above the doors. Third floor. The light stayed stubbornly still. “Busy morning?”
“Status conference on some discovery disputes.” Astoria’s voice carried that same rigid control Miller remembered from mediation, but something had loosened around the edges. “You?”
“Custody modification. A quick one.”
“Those are rare.”
“They are.” Miller found herself almost smiling. “Both parties actually agreed on something. I nearly checked outside for flying pigs.”
The corner of Astoria’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile but close. “That must’ve been disorienting.”
“Deeply. I didn’t know what to do with my prepared arguments.”
The elevator display flickered to four, still nowhere near their twelfth floor. Silence settled between them, but it was almost comfortable, if Miller ignored the low hum of alertness that seemed to activate whenever Astoria was nearby.
She’d attributed that to professional vigilance. Astoria was formidable, and underestimating her would be a mistake.
Astoria broke the silence. “The elevators in this building seem to operate on their own timeline.”
“I’ve started budgeting an extra ten minutes whenever I have a hearing above the fifth floor.”
