Page 25 of Objection Overruled
“He, too, started with one simple IOU. By the end of last semester, he was driving mystery packages across state lines for random gas station pickups. No questions asked.”
I stare at her. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
She doesn’t even pause before moving to the next name.
“Lily Morrison. She took a card sophomore year when her mom got sick and she needed tuition money. She was smart. Top 5 percent of her class. Had offers from three Supreme Court justices and Cravath lined up after graduation.”
I nod slowly.
“She turned them all down,” Madison says, her voice low. “She’s working for Rowan’s uncle now.”
I blink. “Why would she?—?”
“Not because she wants to.” Madison’s voice sharpens. “Because she literally can’t afford to say no.”
The nausea hits fast, the coffee in my stomach curdling.
“But they could just… stop, right?” I ask. “Say no. Walk away.”
Madison stares at me.
“You really don’t understand how this works, do you?”
She pulls out her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen.
When she finds what she’s looking for, she turns the screen toward me.
It’s a group photo from some law school networking event—the kind where everyone’s in business casual, pretending to enjoy lukewarm cheese cubes and small talk about tort reform.
But that’s not what she’s showing me.
She’s pointing to the background.
Barely visible, tucked into the corner, a girl I don’t recognize is handing off a manila envelope to a man in an expensive suit. The exchange looks casual, but there’s something off about it.
A chill creeps up my spine.
“That’s Emma Valdez,” Madison says. “Graduated three years ago. Top of her class. Editor of Havemeyer Law Review. Full ride to Stanford for her JSD.”
“Okay...” I say slowly, but the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me this story doesn’t end with a happily ever after.
“She turned it all down. Stanford. The fellowship. The research position that would’ve launched her academic career.”
“Why?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want the answer.
“Because Rowan made sure every other option vanished. Letters of recommendation got delayed. Interview slots were ‘accidentally’ filled. Her thesis advisor stopped returning emails. Meetings were canceled. Doors just… closed.”
The blood drains from my face. “He can do that?”
Madison’s voice softens.
“Tessa. His dad’s a federal judge. His mom sits on half the nonprofit boards in the city. His network includes prosecutors, managing partners, Supreme Court clerks, and donors whose names are etched into the walls of this building.”
She locks her phone and slips it into her bag. “When Rowan King wants to end someone’s career, he doesn’t need to break the law. He just needs to make a few phone calls.”
Every part of me is still, except for my heart, which is trying to escape through my ribcage.
