Page 2 of My Silver Fox Savior

“Shall we talk about something more cheerful?” Dad says. “What about your latest case? I saw something about a lawsuit on the news?”

Ethan, my best friend, and I run a divorce law firm for the rich and powerful on the East Coast. Usually, I can talk about this all day, but after the doctor’s news, it feels oddly shallow. “Slander,” I murmur. “Ethan thinks we might make a dent if we go the public-favor route.”

“They made such a lovely couple …” Mom sighs.

“I’m thinking of doing more pro bono work,” I announce.

“Oh, really?” Mom perks up.

“Yeah.”

“Keep the resumé up to scratch, huh?” Dad says shrewdly.

“Not for the resumé,” I say. “Just … to give something back. To do some good.”

Before I’m gone.Months, not years.It bounces around and around my head.

“Just don’t let it interfere with your jobtoomuch,” Dad advises. “You’ve built one of the biggest, most successful practices on the East Coast.”

“I know,” I say, nodding.

“Listen, sweetie, we have to go,” Mom says. “We love you lots. Okay?”

“Love you, Mom. Love you, Dad.”

Dad chuckles, makingmwah-mwah-mwahkissing noises and waving his hand. I get into my car, resting my forehead against the wheel. I know I’ll soon have to tell them the truth after the meeting with the oncologist, maybe when I’ve heard the specifics.

The specifics were the worst part last time with Charley. Hearing about all the ways his body twisted and conspired to shut him down, hearing about the misfires and malfunctions.

Taking out my phone, I navigate to the pro bono website I’ve used. I’m immediately met with a message when I try to log in. I hear, “Hello, returning user. It has been over four years since your last log-in. Since then, we have updated our system. Please click this link to make a new account.”

It’s been four years since I last did pro bono work. I guess life can race ahead, mine and Ethan’s work taking us from one high-profile case to the next. There are always more marriages to help peel apart, sometimes frictionlessly, sometimes with fire.

After making an account, I scroll through the entries for the city.

“Months, not years,” I whisper, struggling to make sense of it or evenbeginto process it.

Mom and Dad don’t deserve to lose another child.

I keep scrolling, thinking maybe, at least, I can do some good before the end.

CHAPTER TWO

LILY

When I started working as a junior social worker three months ago, I was stunned by how hectic the main office was. When I first walked in, I was sure I’d accidentally wandered into a newsroom or a stock exchange. People walked back and forth, snapping information at each other. People exchanged hurried notes. There were stacks of paper everywhere. Everybody looked tired and worn down.

Now, it doesn’t shock me. I arrive for work with the same determination I’ve felt since first winning a scholarship out of high school. The competition required me to write a letter explaining how I wanted to help people, an interview, a test case, and now this—my reward.

I’m twenty-two years old and ready to make the world a better place despite what my boss, Carter Weston, says daily. Today, he’s leaning back in his office chair, his feet resting on his desk. He’s in his mid-forties, but this job—or maybe just life—has aged him more than that. His hair has crept back. His face is rough—almost leathery—and his expression always seems resigned but never angry, more like accepting of how cruel the world can be.

“We’re going to have to split today,” he mutters, glancing up from the sheaf of papers he has propped on his chest.

“Okay …”

I glance across the busy room to the director’s office. Technically, I’m not supposed to head out into the field without Carter beside me. However, with our absurd caseload, Carter sometimes sends me to jobs alone, and then I’ll fill in the paperwork as though he was there. He signs it, and we move on. So far, it’s meant helping more people.

Though, it also means risking my job. It’s a danger, for sure. On my first day, when Carter opened the files for his nine active cases and told me to choose one to ignore, I learned how cold this business really is.

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