“The witness may step down,” Judge Whitcombe said.
Miller rose from the chair, her legs slightly unsteady. As she turned to leave the stand, her eyes finally found Astoria.
Astoria was watching her already. From beneath the ice queen mask, Miller saw something raw and unguarded visible. Not just gratitude, though that was there, but it was something deeper. Miller held her gaze for a moment, just a moment, before looking away and walking back to her seat in the gallery.
Behind her, she heard Valerie’s sharp whisper to Rachel, the words indistinct but the barely contained fury in her tone was unmistakable.
Miller sat down and shoved her hands between her legs and the wooden bench. The realization that she’d just testified against her own firm’s client was settling in her body. There would be consequences, no doubt, even though she was subpoenaed. She expected losing her standing in the partnership path at the minimum, but she was anxious about the other professional complications she couldn’t yet predict.
But beneath the anxiety, she didn’t care. Not really. The truth was in the record now. Valerie’s attempt to destroy Astoria with fabricated claims had been exposed under oath. Whatever happened next, Miller could breathe easier knowing she’d done everything she could.
She risked one more glance at Astoria who was still looking at her. This time, she didn’t look away.
The afternoon stretched on. Lunch had been a quiet hour in the courthouse café, picking at a sandwich she didn't taste. Now the trial had resumed, and the atmosphere in the room had shifted.
Gerald called his next witness: a forensic accountant who methodically dismantled Valerie's financial claims. Then a former employee of Shepry Global who testified about Astoria's hands-on leadership in the company's early years, long before Valerie entered the picture. Then another witness, and another,each one adding weight to the same conclusion that Astoria had built her own empire and Valerie had merely lived in it.
But it was the documentary evidence that landed hardest.
Gerald introduced a series of exhibits: financial records, timeline analyses, correspondence that contradicted Valerie's narrative at every turn. Miller watched the documents appear on the courtroom's display screens and felt something strange move through her chest.
She recognized this work. Miller had compiled this months ago. Before everything fell apart, she'd spent late nights building the evidentiary foundation—ostensibly for Valerie's case, but the deeper she dug, the more the evidence pointed the other way. She'd handed it all to Rachel when she recused. Rachel, bound by ethics, had disclosed it during discovery, and now Gerald was using it to bury Valerie with her own lies.
Across the courtroom, Astoria was staring at the screens. Miller watched her take it in, understanding dawning on Astoria’s face as she realized what she was looking at. Astoria turned her head slowly, her eyes finding Miller’s in the gallery immediately.
A silent communication passed between them:You did this?
Miller couldn’t look away or pretend like she didn’t see the question in Astoria’s eyes. Miller gave the smallest nod.
The evidence presentation continued, but Miller barely heard it. She was hyperaware of Astoria’s presence across the room, too conscious of everything that hung between them.
Finally, Gerald rested his case. Rachel offered a brief rebuttal, but Miller could tell her heart wasn’t really in it. The evidence was too damning, and they both knew it. Judge Whitcombe wrote some notes, asked a few clarifying questions, then set her pen down.
“I’ve heard sufficient testimony and reviewed the evidence presented by both parties,” the judge said. “I’ll take the matterunder advisement and issue my ruling on Wednesday morning. Court is adjourned.”
The bang of the gavel echoed through the room.
People rose, gathered their belongings, and began filing toward the exits. Miller stayed in her seat, watching as Astoria stood and conferred quietly with Gerald before she smoothed her jacket and prepared to face the reporters waiting outside.
Astoria glanced back once more before Gerald guided her to the door. Her lips parted and moved, just slightly, but Miller could still make out the wordsthank you.
Then she was gone, swept through the door and into the hallway beyond.
Miller stayed sitting in the gallery. On Wednesday, the judge would rule, and the case would end one way or another.
And then, there would be nothing left between them. No case, no ethical barrier, no professional obligation keeping them apart. They’d just be two people who had hurt each other and made impossible choices.
Miller didn’t know what would happen next. She didn’t know if Astoria would evenwantto see her, speak to her, or try again.
She didn’t know if the damage could be repaired or if some things, once broken, stayed that way.
But the way Astoria looked at her today, for the first time in weeks, she dared to hope.
25
Chapter 25: Astoria
It was verdict day. The courtroom smelled like stale air and was fraught with anxiety. Astoria sat beside Gerald at the petitioner's table, her hands folded in front of her, and waited for the judge to decide the rest of her life.
