Page 2 of Free to Judge
A past we hope few have to endure.
Our family’s lives were a trial by fire. For some, they were sentences of agony. But since our lives play out in the court of public opinion, we know one thing for certain. Love, the kind that truly matters, is worth sacrificing anything for.
I’m next.
Pressing a hand to my stomach, a familiar churning sensation rolls through my gut. A reminder I’m ready for the next step in the marathon called life I’m about to endure.
I recognize the feeling because I conquered it time and time again as I waited for a gun to signal the start of some of the most important races of my life. Each race in high school. At theUniversity of Connecticut, when I raced for my mother’s alma mater. Later, during my first year of law school, when I won the Boston Marathon, which qualified me to be a part of the US Women’s Olympic Team.
Just before I went on to medal at the Games.
Like that moment when they slid the ribbon with those famous rings embossed on it over my head, tears prick my eyes as my legal name rings through the air. Thunderous applause bounces off towering marble columns as I step to the edge of the stage. The weight of the moment presses against my chest—not from nerves, but from the sheer gravity of what I am about to finish.
“Katherine Laura Marshall. Juris Doctorate, Master of Business Administration. Summa cum laude.”
Even as I saunter forward, eyes on the dean, I hear my mother, father, and sisters shriek my name, “Kalie!” with pride. Above all, with love.
My head is held high, my hood flops behind me—designating me as one of the elite. Not just because I am graduating from one of the most prestigious institutions in the world, but because I did so with a dual degree and with one of the highest grade point averages.
I earned this.
Suddenly, the nights I spent in the Harvard Law Library with my head buried in corporate case law are worth it. The relentless drive that pushed me past exhaustion, past my own limits, is now worth it.
I did it.
Quickly shaking the dean’s hand, I pose for a picture and beam at my family, knowing this is just the start of the rest of my future. As I cross the stage, I catch the handsome stranger’s eye. His smile is broad, his head nodding in slow motion. It doesn’t occur to me until now, I have to pass him in order to return to my chair. When I do, his husky, “Congratulations,” sends chills down my spine.
I twist my head around and beam in his direction. “Thank you.”
His cocky expression falters for a moment, and it makes me wish I had more time here in this world before real life kicks in. All too soon, the ceremony ends, and my family scrambles forward to bombard me with hugs.
Their pride is practically tangible, and it means more to me than anything. Certainly more than any medal packed away. Those were moments of temporary glory. This is proving I belong where I always knew I was meant to be.
By my mother’s side, as associate counsel at Amaryllis Events.
I set the dark haired stranger to the back of my mind and welcome the weight of my family’s legacy as it settles over my shoulders, not as a burden but as a privilege.
Now, I’m ready to carry it.
CHAPTER ONE
FOUR YEARS LATER
I standbefore the window in Director Holder’s office, fists shoved deep into my pockets, my jaw clenching tight enough to snap any second. The room assaults my senses with a twisted scent of burned coffee and raw desperation—a scent that, perversely, offers a grim comfort. The director wisely avoided the harsh glare of the fluorescent light, opting instead for a dimlamp, shrouding our forms behind drawn blinds. No one must see me.
Pivoting sharply to face him, I brace for his judgment.
Director Holder lets out a weary sigh as he rubs his battle-worn face—one that’s witnessed too many brutal choices, including the one he’s about to sanction. “You certain you know what you’re doing, Dec?” he rasps, every word strained with fatigue, yet his black eyes cut through my armor with fierce precision.
I recall when he used to do that when I was a little boy. Growing up next door to an FBI agent, it was Holder who would chide me when I got too unruly for my mother—my father being long gone from our lives. When she died, he stood by my side at her small service. He stepped in to become my mentor, my boss, and my father figure, all rolled into one.
Thus why he’s the one I’m turning to before I take on my biggest challenge to date. Nodding slowly, I answer, “I do.”
Sitting forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his desk, he continues, “Let’s lay all the cards on the table.”
“Fine.”
“If you do this, they’ll think they own you.”
