Chapter 1

The courtroom was full but Becky only saw the witness.

She always did. The moment she stood up, everything else faded. The judge, the gallery, opposing counsel shuffling papers at their table – all of it went quiet in her head. There was only the person in front of her and what she needed to get out of them.

She picked up her notepad and walked toward the stand.

The witness was a man in his fifties. Well dressed. Confident in the way that people were confident when they thought they had already won. He had been answering questions for the past forty minutes with the ease of someone who had rehearsed every word.

Becky had been listening to every single one.

“Mr. Kasem,” she said. Her voice was calm. It was always calm. “You testified earlier that you were not present at the warehouse on the night of the fourteenth. Is that correct?”

He nodded. “That’s correct.”

“You’re sure.”

“Completely.”

She let that sit for a moment. Just a moment. Then she turned and nodded at her paralegal. Heng placed a photograph on the projector without being asked. He knew the rhythm of her cross-examinations by now. He always knew.

The photograph appeared on the screen behind her.

A warehouse. Night. A car parked outside. A figure near the entrance, face partially turned toward the camera.

The courtroom went very quiet.

“Mr. Kasem.” Becky turned back to him. “This photograph was taken at 11:47pm on the fourteenth. By a security camera two buildings down that your client’s team apparently forgot to check.” She paused. “Is that you in the photograph?”

His confident expression didn’t disappear all at once. It went slowly. Like air leaving a tyre.

“I-” He stopped. Started again. “It’s difficult to say from that angle-“

“The registration plate of the vehicle beside you matches the car registered to your personal account.” She kept her voice completely even. “Would you like me to put that on the screen as well?”

He said nothing.

“I’ll take that as a no.” She turned back to her table. “No further questions.”

The murmur that went through the gallery was immediate. She didn’t react to it. She sat down and uncapped her pen and wrote one line in her notepad, the same line she always wrote when a cross-examination landed exactly where she needed it to.

Done.

Heng leaned over quietly. “You knew he was going to fold on the photograph.”

“I knew the moment he crossed his legs when opposing counsel introduced him.” She clicked her pen. “Overconfident people always fold when you take away the thing they were most sure of.”

Heng shook his head slowly. Not disagreement. Just the particular wonder of someone who had watched her do this for four years and still wasn’t entirely used to it.

The judge called a recess.

Becky gathered her files and walked out into the corridor. The moment the courtroom door closed behind her the noise of the gallery cut off and it was just her and the long quiet hallway and the particular kind of tired that came after an intense cross-examination.

She leaned against the wall.

Nobody saw this part. She made sure of that. Inside the courtroom she was composed and precise and certain. Out here for thirty seconds she was just tired. She allowed herself that much.

Her phone buzzed. Charlotte.

She answered. “I’m in recess.”

“I know. I watched the live feed.” Her sister’s voice was warm but there was something underneath it today. Something careful. “You were brilliant.”

“The photograph did the work.”

“Becky. You found the photograph. You pulled the thread for two weeks until you found it.”

Becky didn’t argue. She pushed off the wall and started walking toward the water dispenser at the end of the corridor. “Is everything okay? You sound-“

“Everything is fine.” Too quick. “I just wanted to say well done. The Viroj case closing arguments are when?”

“Three weeks.” She filled a cup. “Charlotte. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” A pause. “I’m going to send someone to the firm next week. A new associate. I need you to take her on.“

Becky stopped. “I’m in the middle of the biggest trial of my career.”

“I know.”

“I don’t have time to train someone right now.”

“I know that too.” Another pause. Longer this time. “Please, Becky. I trust her. Just – take her on. For me.”

Becky looked at the cup in her hand. Charlotte didn’t ask for things often. When she did she meant it.

“Fine,” Becky said. “But she keeps up or she goes.”

“She’ll keep up.” Something in Charlotte’s voice shifted then. Relief, maybe. Or something close to it. “Thank you.”

The recess bell sounded down the corridor.

“I have to go.” Becky dropped the cup in the bin and turned back toward the courtroom. “We’ll talk tonight.”

She straightened her jacket. Rolled her shoulders once. And walked back through the doors.

The courtroom rose when the judge entered. Becky sat down and opened her notepad to a fresh page.

Three weeks until closing arguments. Three weeks to finish what she had spent eight months building. She had the evidence. She had the timeline. She had every piece she needed.

She was not thinking about a new associate arriving at her firm.

She was not thinking about the careful sound in her sister’s voice.

She was thinking about Viroj. About the closing argument she had been quietly drafting in her head for the past month. About finishing this.

She would deal with everything else later.

She had no idea that everything else was about to walk into her office in three weeks and completely rearrange her life.