Page 115 of Blind Justice

Tristan muttered something under his breath, clearly displeased, but he didn’t fight it.

Because this was Ruth’s choice. And she had already made it.

* * *

The moment Noahpushed open the glass doors to the building, Ruth inhaled sharply.

The smell hit her first—coffee, fresh ink, and the faintest trace of industrial cleaner. The kind that always lingered on polished tile.

The sounds came next. Phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the distant murmur of voices filtering through the space like an old memory. “My goodness, Ruth.” Lucy, the firm’s receptionist, embraced her.

“Lucy.” She hugged her back.

As soon as Lucy released her, Noah guided her, his hand warm on her back.

As she continued down the corridor, a voice called out,“Well, well, if it isn’t Ruth Everhart.”

Ruth smiled instinctively, recognizing the deep baritone of Mac, the security guard who had been working at the building for years. “Hi, Mac,” she said softly.

Mac let out a low whistle. “Damn, kiddo. You gave us all a scare.”

She let out a small, breathy laugh. “Sorry about that.”

Mac hesitated, and she could feel the shift in the air—the things unsaid. Then, gently, he reached out and squeezed her hand. “Good to have you back.”

Noah pressed her toward her office. She remained silent, the anticipation growing in her stomach. He guided her through the space, past familiar desks and hallways. “Your waiting area,” he whispered.

Then, she stopped. She half expected Matt Brandt to come in. But she knew he’d been arrested. Her fingertips brushed against something.Melanie’s desk.

Something inside her broke free. Ruth dropped to her knees, blindly feeling for her boots. Boots that weren’t there. Her breath caught. Something flashed behind her closed eyes. And then…

“I was standing right here, by Melanie’s desk. It was a long day. I was tired. I bent down to get my boots.” Her fingers moved against the carpet. “And then—an envelope. Leaning inside Melanie’s boot, barely noticeable. A simple yellow envelope. Verdant Horizons. Fairchild’s accounts. In the moment, it didn’t register. I was just tired. Just ready to go home with you. God, Noah—now it clicks.”

She rolled from her knees and sat on the floor, the memories coming alive, sucking her into the past. “Later that night…sitting across from you, Noah, at the steakhouse. Laughing, teasing, bantering. You’re smirking at me over your steak.

“We’re outside. You’re teasing me about making love to me, and I’m rolling my eyes, pretending to be exasperated, but I’m smiling. I’m happy. The air is crisp, my heels clicking against the pavement. You’re just behind me, half a step off, still teasing. I reach for my key fob…”

She stopped talking aloud. Her breaths came faster.

And in that split second before the explosion—I look up. And I see him. Blake Ellison. My father’s friend. My boss. The man who hired me.

His eyes lock with mine across the lot. And then…

BOOM! The blast rips through the night, swallowing everything in fire and heat.

She shuddered, the memory crashing over her like a tidal wave, pulling her under, under, under. She reached blindly in the dark, her fingers searching, trembling. Her body convulsed, a guttural sob ripping from her throat.

Noah was there, dropping beside her, his arms wrapping around her instinctively. “Rae! Talk to me!” His voice was panicked but steady. Anchoring her. He was there. Warm. Solid. Real.

She gripped his jacket like a lifeline. Her voice shook. “I saw him.”

Noah’s body stilled. “Who?”

She shuddered, gasping for air. “Blake Ellison.”

The room went silent. Noah’s arms tightened around her.

“Noah…” Her voice was barely a whisper, her breath shaking. “I saw him.”

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