Rachel
Rachel woke to the ringing.
Not the alarm. The phone.
The sound tore her out of sleep before she even understood where she was. She sat up in bed, and the red digits of the glowing digital clock on the wall said it for her—what she didn’t want to hear.
She’d overslept.
“Damn it…” she muttered, already reaching for the phone. “Emma!”
Her voice echoed through the upstairs hallway. Rachel pushed herself out of bed, barefoot, heading for the stairs, the phone pressed to her shoulder.
“You overslept,” Sarah said.
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
Rachel took the steps two at a time. The railing was cold under her palm, the house still asleep, only the floorboards creaking beneath her feet.
“I know. I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Two minutes. I swear.”
She set the phone on the kitchen counter, switched to speaker, and hit the coffee machine’s button.
“Rachel,” Sarah said. “Today is important for me. If I’m late, it’s over.”
Rachel stopped for a moment.
“You’ll make it,” she said. “You always do.”
“Not if you’re not there on time,” Sarah replied. “The judge doesn’t wait.”
Rachel poured the cereal too fast. A few pieces spilled onto the counter. She didn’t stop to pick them up.
“Emma!” she called again. “We’re leaving. Now!”
“If you ran things over the phone, you’d still win,” Rachel said as she filled her mug.
Sarah sighed.
“Don’t joke.”
“I’m not,” Rachel replied. “Just stating facts.”
She grabbed her keys, pushed through the front door, and nearly ran to the car. The cool morning air jolted her fully awake.
Madison was stirring.
Porch lights, doors opening slowly, a dog barking somewhere down the street. Everything was too calm.
As she pulled onto the road, she spotted Tom a few houses down. Kate’s son. His backpack hung crooked on his shoulder, his shoelace untied, his jacket open.
“You overslept again,” Rachel muttered to herself.
She rolled down the window and waved. Tom waved back, half-asleep.
For a moment, Rachel thought of Kate. She was a good mother. Always attentive. Except now there was the baby—everything revolved around the little one. Rachel didn’t envy her. She’d never wanted more children. Emma was more than enough.
Two streets later, she slowed down. In front of Sarah’s house, everything was exactly where it should be.
And of course—Sarah too.
She stepped out the door, elegant, hair perfectly arranged, movements sharp and deliberate. Exactly how a lawyer should look.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Rachel said before Sarah could speak.
“Doesn’t matter,” Sarah replied as she got in. “Just drive.”
Rachel hit the gas.
“I already sent Lori,” Sarah said. “She won’t wait for Emma. She can’t be late all the time.”
“I think Emma knows she’s already gone,” Rachel replied. “A lesson learned.”
They drove in silence for a while, only the hum of the road filling the space between them.
“Who are you defending today?” Rachel finally asked.
Sarah stared out the window.
“A father,” she said. “His wife called the police.”
Rachel’s jaw tightened.
“The one we brought in yesterday?” she asked. “The one who hit her?”
“Yes.”
“You’re getting him out,” Rachel said. Not a question.
“That’s why I’m going,” Sarah replied. “So they’ll release him.”
Rachel’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“I saw the report,” she said. “Bruises. And it wasn’t the first time.”
“He hasn’t been convicted,” Sarah said. “That matters.”
“What matters is that she’s afraid of him,” Rachel snapped.
“Fear isn’t enough,” Sarah said quietly. “It has to be proven.”
“And when they let him out, he’ll go back,” Rachel said. “You know he will.”
“On paper, he’s not allowed near them,” Sarah replied.
Rachel let out a bitter laugh.
“On paper.”
Sarah looked at her.
“If they keep him in without evidence, the whole case collapses,” she said. “Then he’ll never be held accountable.”
“Or they let him go,” Rachel replied, “and he does it again.”
The courthouse came into view.
Rachel slowed down.
“You always find the loophole,” she said.
“That’s why they call me,” Sarah replied. “Because I win.”
Rachel stopped the car.
She stayed inside for a moment, watching as Sarah walked up the courthouse steps. Reporters were already there—microphones, cameras, questions.
Sarah didn’t stop.
Rachel drove toward the police station.
Inside, the familiar noise greeted her. She nodded, said hello, kept moving. George’s office door was open.
“Where’s my coffee?” George asked without looking up.
“I was in a hurry,” Rachel said.
“Yesterday’s report still isn’t finished,” George said.
“It will be today.”
George leaned against the edge of his desk. The weight of the case was written all over his face.
“They’re hearing it today,” he said.
“He’s getting out,” Rachel replied.
George nodded.
“And he’ll go back.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Finish the report,” George said finally. “Then talk to Ethan. He has today’s case file.”
Rachel stepped out of the office and stopped by the window. The courthouse steps were no longer visible from here.
Only work remained.
She adjusted her jacket and headed toward Ethan’s office.
The day had already begun.
There was no stopping it.
