Chapter Thirty-Six: Pro Bono

Tori sorted through Daniel’s paperwork. They were briefings mostly, a few post-trial memos, and one handwritten note she wasn’t supposed to read but skimmed anyway. Daniel was in a closed-door meeting with the senior partners. She didn’t know what it was about, only that he hadn’t cracked a joke all morning. That alone worried her.

She wandered over to his desk and, after a moment’s hesitation, eased herself into his chair.

It was bigger than she’d expected, mahogany, heavy, traditional. The kind of desk that suggested legacy. Stability. Power.

She scanned its surface, eyes drifting over the details: a chipped coffee mug with an old university crest; a silver pen that looked too expensive to touch; a brass paperweight shaped like Lady Justice, a little tarnished now; and then, nestled just to the right of the monitor, a photo frame.

Samantha.

Of course it was Samantha. In a sundress, smiling like the world belonged to her. The kind of polished beauty you saw in magazine spreads and alumni galas.

She’d met Samantha once, at one the firms holiday parties. Blonde, because of course she was, pretty in a prep school sort of way, and utterly fake. She hadn’t liked her. But Tori had smiled politely, because that’s what you did when you met the wife. Even if your gut twisted a little.

Tori sighed, leaning back in the chair and spinning slightly, her heels grazing the carpet. She didn’t dislike Samantha. She just… couldn’t relate to her.

What sort of woman was married to someone like Daniel, and let him go?

Then picked up the photo behind it.

Daniel, grinning, with a little boy on his shoulders Marco. Tori had never met him, but she’d heard the stories. Four years old, curly-haired, apparently obsessed with trains and dinosaurs and telling knock-knock jokes that made no sense.

Daniel talked about him differently. Not like a proud parent parading trophies, but with warmth that softened the sharp edges in his voice. Even at his lowest, even during the hardest cases, he always lit up when he mentioned Marco.

Tori smiled to herself, brushing a thumb briefly across the corner of the frame. The boy looked just like his father. Same big eyes, same impish smirk, like they both knew something you didn’t.

She set the photo down too.

There was work to do.

So she rolled her sleeves back up, returned to the stack of briefs, and tried not to think about the fact that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to care more than an intern should.

——

Daniel sat in the conference room, the last of the senior partners now gone. The door clicked softly behind them, and for a fleeting moment, he let the silence settle. A weight had been lifted slightly. Not gone, but lighter. Manageable.

He rubbed a hand down his face, exhaled, and stared down at the scattered legal briefs in front of him like they might rearrange themselves into something more meaningful.

Then came the knock.

He looked up to see one of the senior partners, Genevieve Stanton. Late forties, maybe early fifties, red lipstick always perfect, heels always sharp, her gaze sharper still. Always in a power suit with a tight pencil skirt. She carried herself like a woman who’d never once apologized for wanting more.

“Walk with me Ryees,” she said to him.

Daniel rose, careful not to let his fatigue show. He buttoned his jacket with practiced ease and followed her out of the conference room, their footsteps echoing along the polished hallway.

“So,” she said as they moved. “The other partners? Pissed.”

He gave a faint, humorless huff. “Yeah. I figured.”

Genevieve barely glanced at him. “Look, I get it. Corporate law isn’t glamorous. It’s hours of soul-killing contracts, asset transfers, men in bad ties giving worse advice. It pays, but it doesn’t inspire.”

“I’m not quitting,” Daniel said. “I just need to breathe. Maybe focus on something else for a bit.”

She led him into her office and motioned for him to close the door behind them. The room was dark wood, glass, and chrome. Dominating. Intentionally so.

“That’s a long-winded way of saying: you don’t want us to make money.”

Daniel turned to face her. “I’m asking for a break. I just want to try to focus on something that I feel matters.”

She rounded her desk but didn’t sit. Instead, she leaned forward against the polished surface, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

Her blouse shifted with her movement, and Daniel, despite himself, registered the silhouette, the curves. Genevieve was the kind of woman who wore power and sexuality interchangeably.

“Pro bono work,” she said finally. “That’s what this is about.”

He nodded once.

Genevieve gave a slow, amused smile. “And what, exactly, do you want to take on? Tenants being evicted by a real estate trust? Immigrant families stuck in a system that doesn’t see them? Environmental lawsuits against a fossil fuel company we just had drinks with last month?”

“All of the above, eventually.”

“I like you, Daniel,” she said, her voice softening, but just barely. She picked up a thick briefing binder from the corner of her desk, fingers tapping the cover. “I always have.”

There was a pause, weighty and deliberate.

Then, heels clicking with the precision of a gavel strike, she slowly circled the desk until she was directly in front of him. Close enough to make it clear she was the one in control of the air between them. She met his eyes, unwavering.

“I went to bat for you, you know. Back when they thought you were just another bleeding heart with a pretty face. I said, no, this one’s dangerous, because he actually gives a damn.”

She handed him the binder.

“I want you to take this case. Some church down in East Harbor. Low-income, mostly immigrant congregation. They’ve been sitting on that land for forty years. Now the city’s trying to claim eminent domain so they can sell it to a tech developer for a waterfront innovation campus.”

Daniel raised a brow, flipping open the first few pages. Maps. Legal notices. A letter from the city. A photo of a modest stucco church nestled between warehouses.

“The city already pushed out three apartment complexes nearby,” she continued. “Church is the last holdout. If it falls, the rest of the neighborhood goes with it.”

Daniel looked up at her. “This isn’t just a zoning issue.”

“No. It’s a fight,” Genevieve said. “And I need someone who can go for the throat in a three-piece suit.”

Daniel considered the weight of the binder. “What about my caseload?”

“Hand it off. Give the rookies something cut their teeth on.“

She turned her back to him, walking to the window, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m giving you this because I know you’ll care. But don’t mistake this for charity. If you win, you’ll remind them why they hired you. If you lose…” she shrugged, “…well. You’ll still sleep better than most of them do.”

Daniel closed the binder.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

Genevieve didn’t turn around. “Good. Get out of my office, Reyes. You’ve got a church to save.”

Daniel returned to his office and found Tori sitting in his chair, legs casually crossed, flipping through one of his case files like she owned the place.

He paused in the doorway, raised an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

“I wanted to see if your chair has better support,” she said, not missing a beat. “You know, because you’re old and probably have lumbar issues.”

Daniel shut the door behind him with a sigh and a faint smirk. “You do realize I can still fire you, right?”

“Please,” she said, standing and brushing invisible lint off her blazer. “I’ve seen the binder of sad desk snacks you keep in that drawer. No one with that many granola bars in a Ziploc bag has the heart to fire anyone.”

He gave her a tired look, but didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong.

“You’ve got that meeting with the pharmaceutical company’s lawyers in ten,” she said, tapping her watch. “They’re here to haggle over settlement terms.”

“I’m punting that one,” he said, tossing his binder onto the desk. “I’m gonna give it to Lawlor, and I want you to sit in on it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. You passed the Bar a month ago, didn’t you?” Daniel said, already moving toward the coffee pot on the side table. “You shouldn’t be a glorified secretary. I want you to have some real experience.”

For a moment, her cheeks flushed.

Tori wasn’t used to that kind of acknowledgment, at least not here. Not from the suits who still thought of her as the intern who made their espresso run that one time. She straightened slightly, masking the sudden rush of emotion with a tilt of her chin.

“You know this means I’m going to start asking for an actual chair and not that glorified lawn furniture they gave me.”

Daniel poured himself a black coffee and gave a small grin. “I’m gonna ride you pretty hard if you’re already asking for better furniture.”

She raised her eyebrow at that, arms folding across her chest with deliberate slowness. “Wow. Bold choice of words, counselor.”

Daniel blinked, then winced with a crooked smile. “Jesus. That came out wrong.”

Tori grinned. “Did it, though?”

He took a sip of coffee and shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “You know, I used to be intimidating.”

“You used to be well-rested,” she shot back. “Now you’re just running on caffeine and goodwill.”

She looked at the binder he’d brought in and raised an eyebrow. “So, if I’m doing that, along with still fetching your dry cleaning, what are you gonna do?”

Daniel sat down with a tired grunt, rolling his shoulders as he loosened his tie. “Got a new case. Pro bono. Some church out in East Harbor.”

Tori blinked. “East Harbor? You mean the neighborhood the city’s been trying to gentrify into oblivion?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the city’s invoking eminent domain. Wants to flip the land to some tech developer with a fake-sounding name and a vision board.”

She whistled low. “And they gave that to you?”

“Stanton did.” He didn’t say anything more for a moment, then added, “Said it reminded her of why I got into law.”

Tori tilted her head. “That… sounds almost heartfelt. From her, that’s basically a love letter.”

Daniel let out a dry chuckle. “Don’t make it weird.”

She leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed. “So what’s your angle? You gonna make the city bleed or find them a loophole?”

He looked at the file in front of him for a beat, fingers tracing the cover. “I think I’m gonna try and help.”

That quieted her for a second. Tori studied him, and for the first time that morning, saw something that hadn’t been there in a while.

Resolve.

“I’ll cover Lawlor,” she said, straightening. “But I want to be looped in on the East Harbor stuff too. If you’re really going back to being a good guy, I want to see it.”

He raised a brow. “You’re not gonna ask what’s in it for you?”

“Oh, I will,” she said breezily. “But later. When I’m partner.”

He snorted, and she smirked on her way out.