Chapter 40
Lena's POV
Three days after leaving Madison & Partners, I sat in the study at Lakeview Estate, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
My laptop screen glowed with a blank document. The cursor blinked.
"Independent Law Firm Seeking Partner."
I stared at those words for a long moment.
The wording had to be careful. I didn't need someone who'd compromise principles for profit. I needed someone who'd fight for clients' actual interests, not just billable hours.
In Silverton's legal circles, that kind of lawyer was rare.
I rewrote the posting three times before finally uploading it to LinkedIn, LawCareers, and several professional forums. The emphasis: independent practice, corporate M&A and governance focus, no conflicts of interest, client rights paramount.
After hitting "post," I leaned back and exhaled.
Now came the waiting.
---
Within three days, fifteen résumés arrived.
Most came from mid-sized firm associates—polished credentials, solid backgrounds. I reviewed each one carefully, making detailed notes.
Michael Torres: Twelve years in M&A, formerly senior partner at Clarke & Associates. Perfect résumé. But Emily had warned me Torres was known for "reading the room"—he'd once altered a due diligence report to land a major client.
Sarah Kim: Harvard Law, five years at a top Wall Street firm. During our phone interview, her first question was: "What's the profit split structure? I need to understand my ROI."
James Adams: Courteous, professional, extensive corporate governance experience. But when I asked, "What would you do if a client asked you to bend ethics?" he paused three seconds before saying, "Depends on the context."
I closed the last file and rubbed my temples.
These people were competent. None felt right.
Maybe my standards were too high.
Maybe in this world, lawyers with actual principles were the endangered species.
---
Saturday night, Emily, Alexander, and I met at the BBQ place.
We claimed a window booth. The table filled with ribs, fries, and beer. Alexander wore a faded Springsteen t-shirt and jeans—more relaxed than I'd ever seen him.
"So," he said, spearing a piece of brisket, "how's the hiring going?"
"Not great." I took a sip of beer. "Plenty of résumés. No right fit."
Emily set down her phone. "What exactly are you looking for?"
"Someone with a backbone," I said. "Someone who won't sell out the second it's convenient."
Alexander raised an eyebrow. "You might need to check a monastery."
I gave a dry smile.
Emily went quiet for a moment, then leaned forward. "Actually, I might know someone."
Both Alexander and I looked at her.
"Diana Clarke," Emily said. "An independent attorney. She came to me for a consultation a few months back—right after a particularly brutal case."
"What kind of case?" I asked.
Emily hesitated, clearly weighing confidentiality. Finally: "She used to be a partner at a big firm. Represented an intern who'd been assaulted by a senior partner. Diana sued the firm. Won the case. Got blacklisted for it."
I went still.
"What's she doing now?" Alexander asked.
"Independent practice. Mostly takes cases for people who can't afford representation." Emily's voice softened. "One of my clients—a domestic violence survivor—got free legal help from Diana. Full divorce settlement, custody rights, everything."
My pulse picked up.
"Think she'd be interested in joining a firm?" I asked.
Emily shook her head. "Hard to say. She's wary of anyone from big law. Last session, she mentioned how 'those partners in tailored suits only care about billable hours and profit margins.'"
Alexander whistled. "Sounds like a tough sell."
"Exactly what I need," I said.
Emily pulled out her phone and scrolled. "I can give you her number. But don't mention I referred you—I don't want her thinking I'm setting her up."
"Why?"
"Because she's been burned too many times," Emily said. "She only trusts herself now."
I accepted the contact Emily forwarded. The name glowed on my screen: Diana Clarke.
"I'll reach out," I said.
---
Monday morning, I drafted an email to Diana.
The tone was careful. I didn't mention Emily. Just introduced myself, explained I was starting an independent firm, and asked if she'd be open to discussing a partnership.
Two days later, a reply arrived.
One sentence:
"Thank you for your interest, but I'm not looking to join any firm at this time. Best of luck with your venture. —Diana Clarke"
Polite. Cold. Final.
I stared at the screen, fingers drumming the desk.
Not the end. Just the beginning.
---
I called her.
Six rings. Then someone picked up.
"Diana Clarke speaking." The voice was calm, professional, guarded.
"Ms. Clarke, this is Lena Grant. I sent you an email—"
"I remember." She cut me off. "Ms. Grant, I made my position clear. I'm not interested in joining any firm."
"I understand," I kept my tone even. "But I was hoping we could meet in person. Even if you ultimately say no, I'd like to hear your perspective."
Silence for several seconds.
"Why me?" she asked, voice sharpening. "Silverton has plenty of more suitable candidates."
"Because I don't need suitable," I said. "I need someone who's right. I've heard about your case. I know what you're doing now. I want to work with someone who has principles."
Another pause.
"Ms. Grant," she said finally, tone cooling further, "you used to work at Madison & Partners, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then you should understand what 'principles' look like at big law firms." Her voice carried an edge of contempt. "Billable hours first, client interests second, justice dead last—if there's room at all."
I took a breath.
"You're not wrong," I said carefully. "But that's exactly why I'm starting something different."
"Different." Diana's laugh was humorless. "Ms. Grant, with all due respect, everyone says that at the beginning. And then the first major client walks in with a check, and suddenly 'different' starts looking a lot like 'the same.'"
"That won't happen."
"You sure about that?" Her voice turned sharp. "What happens when your business partner pressures you to take a case you know is wrong? Or when a family connection asks for a favor that crosses ethical lines? Will you still have principles then?"
I hesitated.
She was testing me.
"I left Madison because my supervisor cared more about benefits than doing the right thing," I said. "He let someone else take credit for my work, then blamed me when things went wrong. I could've kept quiet and saved my job. I didn't."
"Mmm." Diana sounded unimpressed. "So you left because you got burned, not because you suddenly developed a conscience."
My jaw tightened.
"I left because the whole system was rigged," I said. "I got tired of pretending that was normal."
Silence stretched between us.
"Ms. Grant," Diana said at last, her tone flat, "I appreciate the call. But I don't think we're a good fit. Good luck with your firm."
The line went dead.
I sat staring at my phone.
She hung up on me.
But I wasn't angry.
If anything, I understood.