Page 58 of Take What Hurts

Despite the situation that grew rapidly more out of hand with each new thing that revealed itself, Mackenzie’s face relaxed into a small smile of relief. Because even if she didn’t get the credit for it, at least it was over. “That’s great news.”

Simon raised his eyebrows, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee. “Yes, and despite Anna’s, uh—allegations—she was more than happy to sign it up last night.” He narrowed his eyes at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought the offer was an extremely good result for her based on my review of the file,” he murmured. “And I will make sure my opinion on that makes it into the letter of advice I send to her with the finalized settlement papers. She shouldn’t have received anything close to that. Career-defining result.”

She nodded in thanks, despite the salt it rubbed into the gaping, bleeding wound. She’d been that close. That close after over fifteen years of work toward a goal that had been burned to ash in less than a fraction of a second. She rubbed at her knuckles in the silence that had grown thick, before she lifted her eyes. “Is that all?”

Simon’s head dropped several inches, and Adrienne shot her a look that dripped with apology.

“Not quite,” Adrienne said. “The firm has also agreed you will resign, and she will be paid some cash. In exchange, she signs an agreement that protects the reputation of the firm. We can’t explicitly tell her not to go to the Bar Association, but we understand she won’t under the circumstances.” Adrienne shrugged. “In my assessment, that part of the threat was all bluster, anyway.”

Mackenzie’s mouth dropped open, hands clenching into fists in her lap. “Oh—” The rage leapt like flames into her mouth, and she squeezed her hands closed tighter, forcing herself to take a breath. “This is a negotiated offer.”

Adrienne squirmed where she sat and collected her pen off the table, then began twirling it in her fingers. “Yes. The partners signed off on it earlier this morning.”

Mackenzie’s hands flew into the air of their own accord. “But she made it all up.” Her voice was loud in the quiet of the room now, because the castle was crumbling around her and she was sapped of any power to stop it. If she could at least keep her job, she could hold on to some hope the dream—the aspiration of reaching the pinnacle of her career at this firm that she’d given so much of her life to—wasn’t impossible. That there’d be another file, another opportunity, another career-defining moment to prove herself.

Adrienne and Simon stared anywhere but directly at her—Adrienne at a knot in the oak on the table, Simon at his lap. “Why aren’t we calling her bluff? We’re the lawyers, for Christ’s sake—” Mackenzie’s voice cut off on a strangled choke, the hard lump that had formed in her throat mingling with the burning behind her eyes. She would not cry.

“Mackenzie.” Simon stared at her, eyes pleading. “The partners don’t want the firm’s name anywhere near a Bar Association investigation. And—” He paused, a look clouding his features as Mackenzie opened her mouth to interrupt. She snapped her mouth closed. “Do you really want your name in front of the bar? Even if it’s all exaggerated, there is always the chance they’ll look at it. Do you really want to put yourself and Elliott through a full-blown investigation?” As he spoke, Mackenzie’s heart sank like a stone, bottoming out somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. Because he was right. She was sick at the thought of putting Elliott—her poor, sweet Elliott, who had tried so hard to protect them—through a bar investigation.

Simon’s sharp features collapsed, and he hit her with a look that reeked of pity. The burning behind her eyes intensified, brain shrieking with the injustice, and she ground her teeth against it. “You’ll get a package. It’s not huge, but it’ll give you some breathing room. The staff will be told you’ve resigned.” He paused and leaned toward her over the table. “I’ll give you a reference myself. You’re a wonderful lawyer and an even better person—any other firm would take you on in a heartbeat. If it helps, you aren’t the first lawyer to leave this firm in this fashion.”

Mackenzie shuddered in a breath. Stomach roiling. She was a fucking sacrificial lamb to keep the firm’s name squeaky clean, and they hadn’t even consulted her about it. Bile bubbled in her gut, and she aimed a look at Adrienne. “Believe it or not, Sy, that doesn’t help. Makes it all worse, if that’s even possible.” He grimaced but didn’t argue. “I know the partners have signed off, but can I take the day?”

Simon glanced at Adrienne, who spoke in a quiet voice. “You can.” The steel in her eyes returned, and Mackenzie saw the seasoned litigator reemerge. Mackenzie forcibly stopped herself from slumping in the chair. “But I recommend you take this option rather than the alternative.”

THIRTY-TWO

ELLIOTT

Elliott stared at the message from Mackenzie. It couldn’t be about them, because what would the meeting even be about? That they were friends? That they’d developed a friendship working on the same matter? Elliott huffed, left hand tugging at the skin around her right hand’s cuticles. She could name at least three lawyers off the top of her head, at her firm alone, that regularly caught up for coffee and drinks with their colleagues at other firms, colleagues they worked files against.

Her right leg started to jackhammer against the floor under her desk. But they’d kissed. And it had happened while they were technically still working together. But it had happened on a weekend. And the first thing she did the next workday was pull herself off the file. And they hadn’t spoken about the file at all outside of work. But, evidently, they’d been attracted to each other the whole time. She tried to focus on what Mattias had said to her at his birthday party, but the thoughts were like water moving through a rapid, and before she could grasp one, it would slip out of her reach.

The desperate need to self-soothe made her hands itch, and she ached to open the electronic version of the file she’d been locked out of since Mattias had taken it over, if only to satisfy herself that her feelings for Mackenzie had not interfered with her practice. She wanted to read back over her notes. Over the offers. The correspondence. Conduct an entire fact-finding mission so she would be able to sleep that night. Instead, she sucked in a shaky breath and pushed a hand roughly through her hair.

She was confident her feelings for Mackenzie hadn’t interfered. She was sure she’d done her best for Matilda. Matilda had been happy—overjoyed even—with Elliott’s work. She’d reached out after Mattias had taken over the file specifically to say so. And that feedback had made Elliott overwhelmingly proud. So proud it almost achieved her purpose in working so hard on that file in the first place.

But then, what did Matilda know? What if it wasn’t the best she could have done? Her hand moved automatically to her mouth, and her teeth ground against the skin on her index finger—chewing and pulling. Mattias hadn’t said anything about the file to her because he wasn’t allowed to. So she didn’t actually know whether he’d opened it and thought she’d shortchanged⁠—

“I’m going for coff—” Hannah’s voice intervened and violently severed the swarm of thoughts buzzing in Elliott’s brain. Elliott’s head snapped up, and her teeth tore the skin off her finger as she pulled it out of her mouth. Hannah’s eyes went wide, and she surged into the office, pulling the door closed behind her. “Elliott, what the fuck? What’s wrong?”

Elliott silently shoved her phone across the desk at Hannah, motioning at it with her hand. Hannah’s brow furrowed, eyes tracking back and forth across the screen. “What does she mean, Anna said something weird last week? Did you know about that?”

Elliott shook her head. “She didn’t say anything to me about it.” A knife of hurt lashed at her chest. Why hadn’t Mackenzie said anything to her?

“Maybe she didn’t know what Anna meant.” Hannah placed Elliott’s phone on the desk and sat down opposite her, eyes soft with what Elliott guessed was a mixture of sympathy and plain old pity. “Elliott, it could be nothing.”

Elliott, unable to muster even an iota of hope, drew her eyes up to Hannah’s. “What if it’s not, though?”

They stared at each other blankly for a moment, until both of their heads shot up and turned toward the door. Loud voices, increasing in volume by the second, sounded in the corridor. Elliott’s brows drew together, and she glanced at Hannah, who shrugged, eyes wide. It sounded like Hallie and one other person who had ostensibly decided not to wait in reception for their lawyer.

Finally, there was a bang on the door to Elliott’s office, and she glanced at Hannah in question. “I didn’t forget about a client meeting, did I?”

Hannah shook her head, eyebrows drawn in confusion, right as the door burst open behind her.

In the doorway stood a shell-shocked Hallie and… Anna. Elliott’s heart lurched into her mouth, and she froze where she sat, Matilda’s words about what she suspected Anna had done to that pianist echoing in her head.

“Elliott, I’m sorry, she wouldn’t wai⁠—”