𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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NOVEMBER 7TH, 2018 THE ELEVATOR PINGED AND OPENED TO THE twentieth floor of her building.
Her day had already met its all-time peak of chaos at just eight in the morning, but thanks to her earlier debacle on forcing herself up early, she had a jumpstart no one else in the office did. A quick glance at her watch while avoiding a spill of paperwork to her left reminded her that she was on schedule—her power walk subconsciously cooled to an eager waltz.
Three years had passed since she escaped home—three years since she ran away from everything she had known and all she'd been taught. Her drought of change was watered the day of her last journal entry; she basked in the plentiful rivers of new beginnings and shifting tides. Left inside was strength and courage, not a piece of the weakness that allowed such abuse, and her exterior morphed into industrial gates and high walls.
She ran into the pouring ran with her clean slate and took a vow of independence, never looking back.
Being homeschooled turned out to be a blessing in disguise that would only further her goals; by the age of sixteen, she had completed all required courses to finish high school and graduated early. When her eighteenth birthday rounded the corner, she was already two years deep into courses at LSU—studying her passion: law.
Her mother had left a hefty sum of cash before she passed away, which she graciously accepted at seventeen and put toward her education. In the beginning, she hadn't been all that serious about it—she thought she was a failure by default, a waste of space, but everything changed the day she pried her body from the poisonous hands of her personal nightmare.
Rayne wanted to become a person one could rely on with irrefutable confidence—she wanted to be a voice of reason and justice others could place their faith in, one that didn't exist during her own adolescence.
And that is exactly what she did—with each case, she healed her inner child.
At the blossoming age of twenty-one, she was one of the most infamous lawyers in all of Los Angeles. Her self-made empire was dedicated to helping the less fortunate with a name she dug out from the Earth's core with nothing but her bare hands. She weaved her way through prosecution before settling on defense work, recognizing how fulfilling it felt.
Opening the door to her office upon arrival, a breath thrill passed through her lips. There weren't many things left in her life to feel prideful over, but this room was one of them. No one held her hand, no one helped her—this was the one thing that was entirely hers. The roots of her freedom greeted her delicately as she slipped through the threshold.
Rayne tossed her briefcase on her desk and relaxed, sinking into the black chair behind it, breathing in the familiarity. Walls of cool tan, a semi-circle window that swallowed half the wall to her right, and mahogany furniture that shouted authority, but sincerity, melted into her skin. Her eyes glided across the long black couch and glass table across the room, decorated for the client's comfort before the vibrating feeling of her work phone pulled her out of the moment.
