Page 135 of The Rules
The elevator was fifteen steps away now. Fourteen. Thirteen.
"I heard Sinclair got bored with her."
"Wonder what she did to get back in."
"Guess we know why she got hired in the first place."
The whispers followed her like a shadow, growing bolder with each step. She kept her eyes fixed on the elevator doors, refusing to acknowledge the burning in her throat or the ice in her veins.
Her heels sliced through the tension like weapons as she moved. The elevator doors parted, and she stepped inside, turning to face the lobby as they closed. For a brief moment, she caught a glimpse of the audience she'd left behind—some still staring, others already turning away, dismissing her performance.
The elevator climbed, each floor bringing her closer to the real battlefield. Precious seconds to breathe, to reset, to brace for the war waiting above.
When the doors opened again, she stepped into the lion's den.
The 20th floor was quieter, more refined in its hostility.
No whispers here—just cold, calculated distance. Associates who once smiled at her now studied their phones with sudden fascination. Paralegals who used to ask for her advice suddenly found urgent business elsewhere.
Almost at her office. Almost safe. Almost—
Blocked.
Megan Chen stood directly in her path. Young. Sharp. Eager. Kath used to mentor her, spending late nights helping her prepare for mock trials, believing in her potential when others overlooked it.
The paralegal stepped deliberately into her path. Not by accident. Not as a mistake. But on purpose.
The woman lifted her chin. Met Katherine's eyes. Then— Without a word, she turned. Walked away.
Not with fear. Not with shame. But with dismissal. As if she wasn't even worth confronting. As if she was already gone.
Katherine froze for half a heartbeat.
Her pulse pounded. But her face? Untouched.
No reaction. No crack.
Because if there was one thing Blondie knew—it was how to wear rejection like glitter.
Still moving. One step. Then another. The whispers faded behind her, but the echo stayed wrapped around her.
They wanted her gone. They wanted her broken. They wanted her to crack.
But Katherine? She'd survived worse than this.
And now? She was back for blood.
Every step toward her office felt like walking through someone else's life. The firm no longer welcomed her—it studied her. Judged her. Waited for her to break.
Then—like sunlight cracking through storm clouds—Patty appeared.
The office secretary slid up beside Katherine with practiced ease, her smile bright and unaffected by the tension hanging in the air. Unlike everyone else, Patty's expression held no judgment—just that familiar, slightly mischievous gleam.
She froze for half a second—then, almost reluctantly, leaned into the hug. Just a breath’s worth of contact. Just enough to remember what kindness felt like.
Patty didn’t pull back right away. Just gave her a little squeeze before letting go, hands still light on Kath’s arms like she didn’t want to let her vanish again.
“Ignore them,” she said, voice gentle. “You being back?
