“And you’re doing it anyway?”
“Yes.”
Rachel held her gaze for another beat, then nodded slowly. “Alright then. I’ll file the paperwork today. I was the lead on the case anyway, so the transition will be seamless for Valerie.” She scrawled something on her notepad. “I’ll need to tell her. I doubt she’ll take it well.”
“I know. I’d like to be there when you do. I owe her that much.”
“Do you?” Rachel’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Or do you just want to control how the message is delivered?”
Miller almost smiled. Rachel truly saw everything. “Maybe both.”
“Fine. I’ll call her at eleven o’clock. We’ll tell her together.” Rachel reached for her reading glasses, then stopped. “Miller.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know what happened. I’m not asking. But whatever it is, be careful. You’ve worked too hard to throw it away for something that won’t last.”
The words landed harder than Miller expected.Something that won’t last.Rachel didn’t know what she was talking about, she couldn’t know, but the assumption stung anyway.
“Thank you for understanding,” Miller said.
“I didn’t say I understood. I said I’d accept your recusal. Those aren’t the same thing.” Rachel put the glasses on and wiggled them slightly to secure them. She turned back to her computer, a clear dismissal.
Miller stood and walked to the door. She paused, wanting to say something else, to explain and justify to make Rachel see that this wasn’t carelessness or weakness but the opposite, the hardest kind of discipline. But there were no words that would help, so she just said, “eleven o’clock,” and left.
The two hours before eleven were the longest of Miller’s career. She sat at her desk and pretended to review discovery documents for another case, but the words blurred together. She kept thinking about Rachel’s face, how the unasked questions and warning still lingered. She kept thinking about what she’d say when Valerie demanded answers she couldn’t give. She kept thinking about the partnership track she might have just derailed, possibly forever, and whether the choice she’d made this morning would look as clear in six months as it did right now.
The conference room felt different with Valerie in it.
Miller had been in this room hundreds of times—client meetings, depositions, strategy sessions—but something about Valerie's presence changed the air. She sat at the far end of the table as though she claimed it, her posture perfect, her smile warm and expectant. She was wearing a silk blouse and tasteful jewelry, her hair swept back in soft waves.
Miller took a seat along the side, and Rachel settled at the head of the table, nearest to the door, the position of quiet authority.
“Thank you for coming in on such short notice,” Rachel began. “There’s been a development in your case that we need to discuss.”
Valerie’s smile flickered, just slightly. “What kind of development?”
“Miller is recusing herself from your representation team, effective immediately. I’ll be handling the case solo going forward.”
The silence that followed was tangible enough to cut.
Valerie’s gaze moved slowly from Rachel to Miller. The warmth in her expression didn’t disappear so much as freeze in place, becoming something that was a smile but wasn’t.
“I see.” Her voice was perfectly controlled. “May I ask why?”
“There’s a conflict of interest,” Rachel said. “It’s a professional matter, and Miller is handling it appropriately by stepping back now.”
“What kind of conflict?”
“That’s confidential.”
Valerie’s eyes hadn’t left Miller’s face. “I’m asking Miller.”
Miller met her gaze steadily. “I can’t discuss the specifics, but I want to assure you that you’re in excellent hands with Rachel. She's been the lead on your case from the beginning, and nothing about the legal strategy will change.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Valerie's voice was still pleasant and measured, but something had hardened underneath it. “I asked what kind of conflict would make you abandon a client mid-case. Because from where I'm sitting, there's really only one possibility.
She let the implication hang in the air.
