"We did it."
"Don't deflect. This was your case. Your framework. I just helped with the scaffolding." Claire pulled back, her hands on Emily's shoulders, her face split in a grin that made her look ten years younger. "Dominic Vance just pled guilty to everything. Everything, Emily. Do you understand what that means?"
Emily understood. Career-defining case. National attention. The kind of win that got you recruited to bigger offices, better positions, the endless upward ladder of federal prosecution.
"I understand," she said.
"You don't look like you understand. You look like you're thinking about something else."
Emily looked past Claire to the end of the hallway, where the doors to the gallery had opened and people were filing out. Ray emerged first, his face still neutral, but she could see the satisfaction underneath. He caught her eye and noddedonce. The same nod Gator had given her at The Anchor. The acknowledgment of a job done right.
Then Jake.
He came through the doors and stopped, letting the small crowd flow around him. He was wearing the gray henley she'd bought him, the one from the shopping trip. He'd worn it today, worn it to watch her win the biggest case of her career, he'd worn the shirt she'd given him.
His eyes found hers across the hallway, and he smiled. Not the broad grin of celebration, not the performative pride of a boyfriend making a show of support. The smile that started in his eyes and took its time reaching his mouth. The one that said everything without saying anything at all.
"Go," Claire said. "I'll handle Ray. Go."
Emily crossed the hallway. The distance wasn't far, maybe thirty feet, but it felt like a threshold. The Emily who'd started this case and the Emily who was finishing it weren't the same person, and the man waiting at the end of the hall was the reason why.
She stopped in front of him. He was still smiling.
"Counselor," he said.
"Mr. Walsh."
"Hell of a closing argument in there."
"There was no closing argument. He pled."
"Hell of a case, then." He reached out and straightened the collar of her blazer, a gesture so casual and intimate that it made her breath catch. "You got him, Em. Everything you built, everything you put together. It worked."
"We got him."
"This was you."
"This was us,” Emily said. "I couldn't have done this without you. The Costa lead, the Angela approach, all of it. You were there for every part of it."
"I was there because you let me be."
"I was smart enough to let you be."
His smile warmed. "That's more like it."
Ray appeared beside them, Claire trailing in his wake. He looked at Emily with an expression she'd never seen from him before. Not the professional approval of a supervisor. Pride. Paternal, almost, if Ray Crawford would ever allow himself to be described that way.
"Dominic Vance," Ray said. "Twenty-three years of building an empire. Gone in one morning because you outworked him."
"I had help."
"You had resources. You used them well. That's different." Ray glanced at Jake, and something passed between them that Emily couldn't read. A history she wasn't part of, a friendship that predated her by decades. "Both of you did good work. The kind of work that matters."
"What happens now?" Claire asked. "Sentencing's not for two months. Are we celebrating or moving on to the next case?"
"Both," Ray said. "That's how this works. You celebrate the wins and you keep working. The docket doesn't clear itself."
He was right. There were other cases waiting, other defendants who needed to be held accountable, other victims who deserved the same attention Emily had given to Ryan Costa and Angela and everyone else Vance had hurt over the years.
