Chapter 1
The girl sitting across from me faltered.
The poised smile on her face hadn't quite vanished yet.
"Excuse me, what did you just say?"
I raised my eyes to look at her.
"Chloe Whitman. You didn't make the cut."
A fleeting silence fell over the conference room.
To my left, David frowned. He leaned toward me, lowering his voice. "Serena, she's only twenty-two. Harvard Law, Moot Court champion. Are you sure you want to pass on a candidate like her?"
He spoke softly, but the room was too quiet, and Chloe heard him.
Her previously relaxed shoulders slowly straightened. The brief flash of shock receded from her face, hardening into the cold, calculating look of someone who realizes they are being sized up.
I didn't look at David.
"I'm sure."
I pushed her evaluation form aside. "That concludes the interview. You may leave."
Chloe didn't move.
She glanced down at her résumé and suddenly smiled. "Serena, I think you might have missed a line."
She reached out, tapping her fingertip against her last name.
Whitman.
"David probably knows better than you how much top-tier alumni networking and academic cooperation this surname brings to this firm every year," she said. She lifted her eyes to meet mine. "So I have to ask: are you rejecting me right now, or the entire Whitman family?"
David's expression shifted. The two other interviewers exchanged a nervous glance.
I looked at her. Young, beautiful, and composed. She was far too accustomed to being buoyed by that name.
"A flawless résumé doesn't guarantee you a place in the courtroom."
I flipped past the final page of her evaluation form. "We are hiring a lawyer, not the heir to a surname."
Chloe's face darkened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that grades are only one part of the equation," I said, holding her gaze. "And a background isn't always a bargaining chip you can cash in for bonus points."
I paused. "Especially your background."
Dead silence engulfed the room.
Chloe's fingers tightened, crinkling the edge of her résumé. "Are you implying there's a problem with my credentials?"
"I am simply notifying you of the result." I slid her folder back across the table to her. "The door is over there."
Chloe stared at me for several seconds.
Suddenly, she snatched up her résumé and stood. The legs of her chair scraped against the carpet with a dull thud.
"Serena Hale." It was the first time she used my full name.
"It would take my grandfather exactly one phone call to shut the doors of the entire East Coast legal circle in your face," she said coldly. "Good luck."
Chloe turned on her heel and stormed out. The glass door slammed shut behind her with a loud bang.
No one in the conference room spoke. After a few seconds, the interviewer to my right cleared his throat.
"Serena..."
"Next."
The subsequent interviews went by quickly.
The final candidate was named Noah Price.
His suit didn't quite fit, the cuffs riding up a bit too high on his wrists, and his résumé lacked any prestigious surname to flaunt.
But he had spent three years volunteering at a legal aid clinic, and he knew exactly why he wanted to become a lawyer.
After his interview ended, I signed his evaluation form.
"Report to HR."
I was just slipping his file into a manila envelope when the conference room door was pushed open.
David walked in. The thin veneer of politeness he'd maintained earlier was completely gone.
"Tell me," he demanded, staring me down, "that you haven't submitted the final results yet."
I sealed the last envelope.
"It's already in the system."
David's jaw clenched.
"Serena, Professor Whitman isn't just an ordinary reference. He is our firm's most vital academic partner."
"I know."
"Then you should also know what it means to cross his own granddaughter off the list!"
I looked up at him.
"It means she wasn't qualified."
David glared at me furiously. "You are burying your own career."
I didn't reply.
Just then, the phone in his pocket started vibrating.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. His face drained of color instantly.
I didn't need to ask to know who was calling.
Abandoning the argument, David gripped his phone and strode out of the room. When he reached the door, he looked back at me one last time.
He thought I had provoked people I couldn't afford to cross.
But I had waited half a century for this.
I was waiting for the Whitmans to step into the ring themselves.
