Page 2 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

“You told me,” Bay said quietly. “You said if anything ever happened, I should find you.”

A small chill moved through Sabre’s chest. “I said that to you?”

The girl nodded. “You were my lawyer.”

Sabre began to mentally flip through years of cases like a deck of cards. She’d met hundreds of children, seen hundreds of faces. But not this one. And she was sure she’d never heard the name.

“Okay, Bay,” Sabre said gently. “When did I represent you?”

The girl’s brow creased, as if the answer should be obvious. “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Sabre admitted.

For the first time, the girl looked confused. “But… you were there. You promised.”

Sabre studied her closely now. The girl didn’t look like she was lying. She looked like someone who had just discovered a piece of reality that didn’t match what she’d come to believe.

“What did I promise?” Sabre asked.

The girl lowered her voice. “That you would help me if I was ever in trouble.”

Sabre felt the room grow very quiet. “When did I tell you that?”

“Eight years ago. And now I’m in big trouble for killing him. You have to help me.”

Chapter 2

Monday morning

Sabre didn’t react to the confession. Years of representing kids in crisis had taught her that her first response mattered. If you looked shocked, they shut down. If you looked angry, they panicked. If you looked afraid, they stopped trusting you.

So, Sabre kept her voice steady. “Tell me what happened.”

The girl studied her face again, as if measuring something. “You don’t remember me at all?”

Sabre shook her head. “I represent a lot of kids. Sometimes faces blur together. Help me out.”

Bay looked down at the metal shelf and traced a faint scratch in the surface. “You came to see me,” she said slowly. “A long time ago.”

“When?”

“I don’t know exactly.” She frowned. “I was younger.”

“How much younger?”

“Maybe five.”

Sabre felt her stomach tighten. She would remember representing a five-year-old. “Tell me more about your case.”

“You came to see me at a place with other kids. I don’t remember the name of it. Then later, you took me home to my family.”

“Where is your family now?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are your parents’ names?”

“I can’t remember.”