Three months later | London, Gray’s Inn
The cherry tree outside Stella’s window was blooming, a shock of pink against London’s perpetual grey. On her desk, two realities coexisted: to the left, the sleek tablet with the Shen Fund dashboard—donations, grant applications, the first cohort of “Arts & Law Fellows” selected; to the right, a manila folder stamped with the crest of the Crown Prosecution Service. Lin Yawen’s case file, redacted but heavy.
Her new office was small, a rented room in a legal nonprofit’s building. No mahogany, no river views. Just a window, a desk, and the quiet hum of a city moving on without her mother’s shadow.
A knock. Her assistant, a sharp-eyed recent graduate named Anya, peered in. “The 10 a.m. is here. Ms. Petrovich. Brought… visual aids.”
Stella closed th
