“I hated the pressure,” I corrected. “I hated the expectations. But… I realized something that night in the kitchen.”
“What is it?”
“The law is a weapon,” I said. “David tried to use it like a club to beat me. He thought it belonged to him because he memorized the words.”
I took a sip of tea.
But he was wrong. The law belongs to those who are willing to fight for it. It belongs to the truth.
My father put his arm around me. “You’ll make a terrible lawyer, Anna.”
“I intend to do it,” I said.
I looked at the garden. I thought about
The baby I lost. I would never be able to hold him.
But I would make sure his memory meant something. I would spend the rest of my life making sure that men like David—men who thrive on silence and fear—never triumphed again.
I was no longer the servant. I was no longer the victim.
I was Anna Thorne. And I was the law.
