Chapter 3

I looked up.

Eleanor Vance stood at the doorway.

Dressed in a black skirt, with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

Her posture was ramrod straight, her steps measured and deliberate.

Exactly like the legal titan on television.

The director turned, looking as if his throat had been squeezed.

He retreated to the corner, then backed out the door.

The door closed.

Only she and I were left in the office.

Twenty years.

I was finally sitting across from this woman.

She pulled out a chair and sat down calmly.

Without a hint of anger.

Even with a smile.

“Mr. Miller.”

Her voice was deep, steady, like she was lecturing from a podium.

“Evergreen City hasn’t seen a young man of such integrity as you in a long time.”

She looked at me.

“Speaking up for the underprivileged, excellent.”

My hand in my pocket clenched around the old fountain pen.

She took off her glasses, slowly polishing them with a soft cloth.

“Ethan’s incident was an accident.”

“Young people driving carelessly, everyone has done it.”

“If you’re willing to drop this now, I’ll recommend you for the position of Deputy Secretary-General of the State Legal Society.”

She looked at me, her tone so sincere, as if mentoring a protégé.

“Young man, you need to look at the bigger picture.”

I took out the old fountain pen from my pocket and twirled the cap with my thumb.

“Professor Vance.”

“Twenty years ago, the severe hit-and-run case on Eastwood Highway in Evergreen City.”

“That battle made your name famous and placed you on the path to becoming a legal titan.”

Eleanor Vance’s hand, polishing her glasses, stopped.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

I stood up, hands braced on the desk, staring into her eyes.

“I want to ask Professor Vance.”

“Back then, you proclaimed procedural justice, upholding every letter of the law.”

“But what about now?”

I snatched up the ‘Notice of Investigation for Professional Misconduct.’

“No evidence collection, no defense, no hearing required!”

“With just one word from you, the State Bar Association bypassed all proper procedures and blacklisted a practicing lawyer in ten minutes!”

“Where is your so-called procedural justice now?!”

The office instantly fell silent.

“You use privilege to oppress victims, and dirty hands to interfere with justice.”

“To protect your hit-and-run son, you’ve trampled on the very beliefs you championed your entire life!”

“Eleanor Vance, is this your original intention as a lawyer?!”

Eleanor Vance took a deep breath.

The gentle, scholarly facade on her face shattered.

Replaced by cold arrogance.

“What a sharp-tongued young man.”

“You want to talk to me about intentions? About procedure?”

She stood up, meticulously adjusting her cuffs.

“Twenty years ago, I still needed to rely on procedural justice to win the cases I needed to win.”

“But twenty years later, in Evergreen City…”

She abruptly leaned forward.

“I am justice. I am the rule!”

“Tomorrow, all city media will receive irrefutable evidence of your professional misconduct and extortion against the Campbell family.”

She walked to the door, not even looking back.

“Try to fight me, and you won’t even get through the courthouse doors.”

The next morning.

All major media outlets in Evergreen City simultaneously published reports.

“Renowned lawyer Alex Miller accused of professional misconduct and extorting millions from the Campbell family; the State Bar Association has launched an investigation.”

The accompanying image was a screenshot of me standing beside the briefcase.

The law firm director’s call came in.

My partnership status revoked.

My lawyer’s license frozen.

Judges and prosecutors I had worked with before all blocked me overnight.

A text message from an unknown number popped up on my phone.

[Young man, in Evergreen City, no one can change the rules I set.]

Immediately after, the delivery driver’s husband called.

Someone had told his wife that if she signed the settlement, the Campbell family would cover all remaining medical expenses.

If not, she couldn’t even keep her current hospital bed.

“Mr. Miller… should we sign it?”

I gripped my phone.

“Don’t sign. Wait for me.”