Tears blur my vision as I meet my father’s gaze, seeing the same shimmer of emotion in his eyes. Despite the ways he’s been hard on me for twenty-nine years—yes, even pushing me to marry Boone as a contingency to secure my promotion—I know it all came from a place of love and care for me and my brother’s future.
He’s always known, even when I didn’t, that I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself to build my career. I had to fight for it, claw for it, and prove myself every step of the way in this industry.
And I did. And one day, this firm will be ours and everything he's put into it will be worth the sacrifice.
That’s what makes this moment even sweeter. Because in the process my dad unknowingly introduced me to the love of my life. The one man I want to see right now.
The only one I want to celebrate this milestone with.
I smile through the lingering tears, raising my mimosa to acknowledge the voices around me offering congratulations. The warmth of their supportive words fills the space as I take a bite of my cake then begin unwrapping the gifts they’ve brought.
A personalized mug withSenior Partner of Prescott & Associatesemblazoned in bold letters.
An expensive lipstick in my favorite shade, courtesy of Martha, my father’s admin, who’s always compliments me on it.
And a pair of fluffy slippers from Dierks for me to slide into during long days between court appearances. I raise a brow, and he shakes his head. “I had no idea what to get you, so I asked my daughter to pick something out.”
I smile. It’s all so intentional, so kind, and it makes my chest ache with gratitude.
In this moment, I feel seen, valued, and celebrated. For all I’ve accomplished, for all I’ve given to this firm. I know one thing for certain, no matter what happens in the future between Boone and I, I’ll never give up my career. I’m good at what I do, and I enjoy it. It's something that’ll always be entirelymine.
As the crowd filters out of my office, heading to attend to clients who are waking up and suits now that the courts are open, it leaves just Cain, my father, and me behind.
Cain approaches with a grin on his face. He pulls me into a hug, his voice dropping to a low, sincere whisper.
“Congrats, Rosie,” he says. “You deserve this promotion. And you also deserve to feel loved, respected, and truly known. Don’t forget that later today, okay?”
I pull back slightly, searching his eyes, wondering if there’s more to his words than what he’s saying. It feels like a nudge, a message, a gentle warning of what's to come.
“Thanks, Cain,” I say softly.
He gives me a final smile and heads for the door, leaving me with my dad.
“Okay, Dad,” I say, turning to him with a raised brow. “I don’t think you’ve ever thrown a surprise party for a promotion. What’s the catch?”
He grins, a mischievous twinkle lighting his expression. “I’m sending you to Los Angeles for a bit.”
I blink, surprised. I assumed now that things were finished with Boone’s case my father would have some new, wild assignment but not this.
“Los Angeles? For how long?”
“Three months.”
“T—three months?” I stammer, my voice rising.
He nods, completely unfazed by my reaction. “New client. Another NHL hockey player for the team out there. Apparently, our work with Boone Tremblay stirred up some interest, and this guy needs serious help. Legal, PR, the whole package. I told him we could handle it.”
I nod slowly, processing this news. This is my dad’s latest project—combining legal services with PR solutions, creating a seamless funnel that brings more money and clients to the firm. And I get it. I really do. It’s great for the firm, and even better now that we’ve officially stepped into sports law.
I just wish it wasn't me going.
“Okay,” I say finally.
He smiles approvingly, handing me a thick case file. “That’s my girl. All the details are in there.”
He steps back but pauses in the doorway, turning to add, “Oh, and on top of that file is the divorce paperwork I need you to sign for Boone Tremblay. Sign it and drop it off with Cain before your flight leaves in an hour. He'll have everything finalized by the end of the day.”
“An hour?” I nearly choke on my champagne, coughing as I set the glass down on my desk.
