Kori Vaughn thought her past was buried the day she left the block. Thirteen years later, a key shows up, along with a name she hasn't heard since the night everything changed. The inheritance is real but so is the danger that's been waiting for her...
Instead, I turned the corner and focused on finding a parking spot near the office.
I pulled into the same spot I always do two blocks from the building, between a fire hydrant and a mailbox that always leans sideways.
Before I got out, I finally replied to Azaria.
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That was it. No emoji. No extra words. She'd understand.
The law office was on the fourth floor of a building that smelled like printer paper and burnt coffee. Not fancy. Just functional. It was one of those places that had been here too long to change, but not long enough to fall apart.
I worked for a small firm three attorneys, one receptionist, and me.
My job title was "legal support specialist," which basically meant I did everything they didn't want to deal with. Case prep, calendar management, organizing filings, calling clients who didn't know how to check email.
I was good at it. Too good, sometimes. They stopped double-checking my work years ago. I liked it that way anyway.
When I stepped inside, the receptionist, Monique, was already at her desk, sipping something iced with a pink straw. "Morning, Kori," she said without looking up. Her voice filled with energy.
"Morning." I replied monotonously. She knew I just wasn't a morning person. It's a mystery how I've been working here for 6 years.
"You want me to send the affidavits for Robbins now or wait until she finishes her edits?"
"Just send it," I said. "She never sends the final draft on the first try."
For Robbins to only be in her early 40's, you would think she would be more tech savvy especially with sending an email.
Monique smirked. "Say less." Before she went back to typing on her computer.
I set my things down in the corner office I used for prep. It wasn't mine, but nobody else ever sat here so it might as well be. There were no windows. Just a wall calendar, a secondhand desk, and a rolling chair that leaned if you moved too fast. That's all I needed.
I pulled out the docket for the week, checked the firm's online calendar, and started adjusting for cancellations that hadn't been processed yet. Half of my job was just correcting the attorneys' oversights before they turned into emergencies.
Mr. Foreman's 11:00 call? I rescheduled it last night because I knew he'd forget he was flying out this morning.
That Smith deposition on Thursday? The court reporter never confirmed so I pinged her directly.
I caught things before they unraveled. That's what I was good at. That's why they paid me what they did.
By 9:30, I had printed six exhibits, forwarded three client follow-ups, and responded to an email I shouldn't have had to read twice.
