Chapter 68 Chapter 0068

Chapter 68 Chapter 0068
•SLOANE•

My head felt as though someone had cracked it open and filled it with broken glass.

I stood in my kitchen with a half-finished cup of black coffee, staring at the locksmith as he tested the new lock on my front door for the third time.

Every metallic click sent another sharp throb through my skull, and I regretted every margarita I had swallowed the night before.

The moment he left, I reached for my phone and called Linda.

She answered on the second ring, her voice bright enough to make me resent her immediately.

“Well, if it is not the woman who vanished from the bar after two shots and left me with an unpaid tab and a wounded sense of friendship.”

After we left the bar two streets from my apartment, Linda and I went to another one for the vibe and music.

“I sent you money.”

“That was not the point.”

“It should have been.” Linda laughed, and the sound somehow made the pounding in my temples worse.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“I am one bad decision away from lying on this kitchen floor and letting nature reclaim me.”

“That dramatic, huh?”

“I woke up convinced I had died in my sleep.”

“You are going to be fine, Sloane. Drink water. Shower. Put on one of those terrifyingly expensive suits that make judges nervous.”

“I have to see a client in a few hours.” I rubbed my forehead and leaned against the counter. “You don't understand. My brain feels like wet cement. If this meeting goes badly, I might accidentally confess to crimes I have never committed.”

Linda snorted. “Please. You could argue constitutional law while actively vomiting.”

“That happened once.”

“And you still won.”

"The opposing counsel was incompetent," I laughed. "But that doesn't mean I must see a client while hungover."

"Put on glasses and they won't notice anything," she chuckled.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea."

“So,” Linda said. “How is your little locksmith-approved breakup going?”

I closed my eyes. “Do not start.”

“Oh, I am absolutely starting. You changed your locks this morning. That is not a casual reaction to a man making you dinner.”

“He was becoming too comfortable.”

“He cooked pasta, Sloane. He didn't propose marriage.”

“It was homemade pasta.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Linda burst into cackling laughter. “Oh, my God. You locked him out over homemade food.”

I groaned. “You are impossible.”

“No,” she said smugly. “I am adaptable. Which is why, unlike you, I have decided to move on swiftly and heroically from my own disappointments.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It is exciting.”

“What are you planning?”

“I may have agreed to drinks tonight with a man named Adrian.”

“That was fast.”

“Life is short. Men are plentiful. Also, his profile picture suggests excellent shoulders.”

“You are choosing men by their shoulders now?”

“Shoulders reveal character. That means he goes to the gym and is good at some things as well.”

“That is not remotely true.”

“It is science.”

I shook my head, smiling despite the ache in my chest. “You are ridiculous.”

“And if Adrian disappoints me, I might match you with someone else to replace your precious Riss. Since you have abandoned him to the streets like some emotionally confused Victorian widow.”

“He’s not my precious anything.”

“Keep telling yourself that while I steal him and let him make me fresh pasta.”

“Linda.”

“I am kidding.”

I glanced toward the window, where a sleek black car had just pulled up outside. My stomach tightened instantly.

It was time.

“I have to go.”

“Client meeting?”

“Yes.”

“Try not to terrify them too much.”

“No promises.”

“And Sloane?”

I hesitated. “Yes?”

“Whatever is really bothering you, you don't have to carry it alone.”

For a moment, I nearly told her. I nearly said that the client waiting for me was my father. That I was about to walk back into the house where Valerie made life miserable for me.

“I know,” I muttered. "Thank you, Linda." I ended the call and stared at my reflection in the dark screen. Then I picked up my bag and walked out.

•••

My fingers curled tightly around my bag as the car came to a stop. When I stepped out, my knees felt weak.

The front doors opened before I could knock, and a maid led me inside.

My throat tightened when I saw the staircase where Olivia had pushed me down. But I quickly looked away and tried not to dwell on those memories.

Then Valerie appeared at the foot of the stairs, dressed elegantly in cream silk, smiling with unsettling warmth.

“Miss Vale,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

I forced myself to smile. “Of course.”

She gestured toward the sitting room.

“Tank is tied up with something upstairs. He will join us shortly.”

I followed her inside and sat down, setting my handbag on the glass table between us. I slipped the case files from my bag.

“I thought we could review the accelerated timeline and discuss how best to pressure Brian before he organizes his defense.”

But Valerie didn't even glance at the files. Instead, she studied me with a strange, measured curiosity. “Where did you study for your law degree?”

The question caught me off guard. “Cambridge.”

Her expression didn't shift. “And your family. Are they in Amberfield?”

A chill ran down my spine, but I kept my face neutral. How was I supposed to tell her that my father was her husband and my mother had died when he brought her home?

“My family lives abroad.”

“Do they visit often?”

I closed the file. “With respect, Mrs. Hale, I believe our time would be better spent discussing the case.”

I slid several documents toward her. “If we push for an expedited hearing, Brian will have less time to build procedural objections. We can leverage the existing audit trail and establish urgency based on potential reputational damages.”

Valerie barely glanced at the papers. Instead, her eyes drifted to the necklace resting against my collarbone.

“You remind me of someone.”

My stomach dropped, and she tilted her head, studying me with unnerving focus.

“My husband had a daughter. She died years ago.” The air seemed to vanish from the room. “And she used to wear a necklace just like that.”

My fingers instinctively rose to the pendant. Before I could answer, footsteps sounded from the staircase.

Tank came down, adjusting his cufflinks.

“Miss Vale,” he greeted me warmly. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“It is no trouble.”

He smiled and extended his hand. But as I took it, I felt Valerie’s eyes fixed on me, they were sharp and searching.

And when I glanced toward her, something in her expression made my blood run cold, but I cleared my throat and turned to Tank.