Her inbox held the first blow - Delaney’s deposition transcript, copied to all parties including the DOJ.

No.?.

The words on her screen blurred as realization dawned. Page after page of pleasant conversation - his satisfaction with his current life, technical details about his previous work, reflections on personal growth. All nice. None of it useful.

They went behind my back. He went behind my back.

Where were the uncomfortable questions? The ones that challenged his relationship to the company, that explored what happened to the work he’d created? The angle she’d been building - the human element that made juries forget corporate complexity and remember real people - was nowhere in this transcript.

Every missed opportunity felt like a personal betrayal, the legal foundation she’d carefully constructed now showing dangerous cracks.

Her hands trembled slightly as she set down her coffee cup, the sound too loud in the quiet office.

All those late nights. All that work. And they just… what? Decided I needed help?

The trust she’d built with clients and colleagues, the reputation she’d earned - all potentially compromised by their well-meaning interference. The upcoming DOJ meeting loomed like a shadow on the horizon.

A test she hadn’t prepared for.

Of course he would… Just like every other…

The growing light painted her office in shades of amber and shadow as she read, each page heavy with the weight of their consequences. The city was waking up outside her window, but inside, something was crumbling - her certainty, her trust, her careful compartmentalization of personal and professional feelings. The judge would want answers, the DOJ would want explanations, and she had precious little time to salvage what remained of her strategy.