Page 1 of Her Property

Cat

Catherine Jones was on vacation.

And it was the absolute worst.

Most people would kill to be on vacation, she knew. Especially here, in a gorgeous old lake house on the quiet autumn shore of Ruby Lake, in Jewel Lakes County, New York.

The leaves on the trees stretching up around the upper deck where Cat was trying her very hardest to relax were a riot of oranges and reds. She lowered the giant case law textbook she’d been trying to read onto her lap, closing her eyes and letting the autumn sun warm her face. From down below, she heard the ripple of water in the breeze.

It should have been idyllic. Itwasidyllic—Cat could see that, objectively. But Cat wasn’t there by choice. She was there because she had screwed up.

In a big way.

Once more the flashback exploded in her brain, the images popping like the flash on an old-fashioned camera.

Pop!The witness’s face, brows slanted in utter confusion.

Pop!Their client’s jaw, gaping open.

Pop!Alfred barking her name in one hard syllable as he cleared his throat, the sound echoing across the courtroom.

Catherine!

She was back there in front of the packed gallery, confusion roiling in her stomach, the sharp tang of panic on her tongue. Her eyes went to the witness’s file spread open on the table back at her seat—the file whose contents she’d memorized, whose every page she knew by size and shape and feel.

When the pieces came together it was like a deck of cards being shuffled into place, each one as it landed ratcheting her shame.

It was the wrong witness’s file.

Three hundred eyeballs pinned her to the spot as she realized her error. A soft murmur reverberated through the courtroom.

Catherine!Alfred’s voice came again.

“I’ve never seen you do anything like this before,” Alfred had said in the hallway outside after. He’d asked for a recess, and the confused judge had nodded, looking at Cat as if she were unwell.

Alfred’s neck puffed with rage. He was so red he was almost purple. Even in the midst of one of the worst moments in her life, Cat was still worried about his health. Alfred had a penchant for rich food and fine wine, and was the only workaholic she knew who was worse than she was. She thought he might have a coronary right there on the polished marble floor.

And it would have been all her fault.

“I ought to fire you right this fucking second!” he said, not even able to look at her.

He’d never spoken to her like this before. Not once in their eight years working together.

Cat had gone numb, the moment in the courtroom blurring with another, older memory from more than a decade past, layered in dust.

Because that’s what made this so much worse. It wasn’t the first time she’d messed up. It wasn’t even the worst.

Lights in her face. Roaring engines in her ears.

For years, she’d pushed that old memory down so deep that if she was careful, she could sometimes pretend it wasn’t there. She could pretend she worked twice as long as her other colleagues, checking and triple checking every file; every memo, because she wasjust that dedicated.

But when she’d messed up again? It had been like she was standing naked in that courtroom for all the world to see.

A joke once again.

She must have worn the pain of that memory on her face, because Alfred had relented. Rubbing his temples with his thumbs, he’d taken a long, wheeze-tinged breath.

“You need a break, Catherine.”

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