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She offered him a quick nod of reassurance as she took her place. “Stay calm, Eamon. They don’t have enough to convict,” she whispered, her tone firm yet reassuring.

Ruth sat and listened, expressionless, her mind already anticipating the prosecutor’s missteps. The prosecutor had overplayed his hand, and she knew it. The petite redhead with wide hazel eyes, wearing lipstick that matched her hair, and a casted arm cradled in a sling, stared at the judge.

“Ms. Everhart, I’m sorry to see your injury. Are you able to proceed?”

She smiled. “Thank you for asking, Your Honor. A little misstep on the ice. But I’m able to go on.”

The judge nodded. “Good to hear.” He called the court to order, and the prosecutor rose for his closing argument.

He painted a picture of Eamon as a career criminal, tied to a drug ring that spanned several states. In truth, he was a stupid kid who bought two pills he thought were Percocet. In reality, he was lucky the police moved in before he took them. They were laced with fentanyl. If he swallowed the pills, he’d have likely died. He was connected to nothing.

Her turn. She commanded the room’s attention as she approached the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her voice steady but firm, “you’ve heard the prosecution’s narrative. A story built on circumstantial evidence, conjecture, and fear. But where is the proof? Where are the facts that tie my client, Eamon Wright, to these alleged crimes? He’s a dumb kid who got caught buying a couple of pills to get some sleep after downing a gallon of coffee in his study group. At most, he was in possession of drugs without a prescription. The DA turned that plea down.”

She paced slowly, making eye contact with each juror. “The law demands proof beyond a reasonable doubt, and today, the prosecution has given you none. You’ve seen their star witness crumble under cross-examination. You’ve seen that the evidence against Eamon is thin to none. The truth is, this case should never have gone to trial.”

Ruth allowed her words to settle over the jury, then delivered her final blow. “Trust how smart you are. You know the evidence presented proves nothing. The only choice you have is to set him free.”

She returned to her seat, the silence in the courtroom deafening. The judge gave his final instructions, and the jury was dismissed to deliberate. Ruth remained calm, her pulse steady. She knew the jury would return with the right verdict quickly.

As she sat with her client, waiting in an anteroom for the jury to return, her phone buzzed quietly in her bag. If it was important, they would leave a message. She let it go to voicemail, knowing better than to break her focus. Courtroom victories required total concentration, and this case was no exception.

Four hours later, surprised deliberations had gone so long, she was preparing Eamon for the possibility that the jury would be sent home for the night. Then the jury returned their verdict: “Not guilty.”

The words sent a ripple through the room. Eamon slumped in his seat, tears welling in his eyes. Ruth nodded toward him but didn’t celebrate—she never did. Winning was expected at Ellison & Grant, and the relief of victory faded quickly for her.

As Eamon was wrapped in the embrace of his parents and girlfriend, she packed up her briefcase, her mind already moving on to her next case. But as she left the courtroom, the buzzing in her bag started again. Something felt off, and a knot of unease twisted in her stomach. She glanced at her phone.

Several missed calls from an unfamiliar number were followed by a text message from Alex Marcel.

Ruth, it's urgent. Call me ASAP.

Nineteen

Ruth exited the courthouse, tired, looking forward to heading home. She decided she’d call Alex on her way. The brisk winter wind caught her off guard as she stepped into the courthouse garage. She hadn’t gone more than a few paces when she spotted Alex Marcel standing near her car. His normally calm, composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a look of panic she had never seen on him before.

“Alex?” she called out as she approached him. “What’s going on? Is my mom okay? My sisters? Noah?”

He turned to her, his face pale and lined with worry. “Ruth, your family is fine. I need your help. It’s Noah.”

Ruth blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt? What happened?”

Alex ran a hand through his graying hair, his voice thick with desperation. “He’s been arrested. They’re accusing him of witness tampering, Ruth. They think he’s responsible for getting a witness killed. But I know him—he wouldn’t do this. Someone is setting him up.”

Ruth’s heart sank. The anguish in Alex’s eyes, the way his hands shook as he spoke matched hers. “When did this happen?”

“This morning,” Alex said, his voice raw. “Two FBI agents came and took him from our office. He’s probably already in holding, and you know how dangerous it can be for someone like him if they jail him.”

Ruth’s mind raced. An investigator from the state’s attorney’s office accused of leaking information? It was a nightmare scenario, the kind that could destroy a person’s life in an instant.

“Alex, I’m a junior attorney,” she said frantically. “I’ve never tried a case like this?—”

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t life or death,” Alex interrupted, his voice pleading. “Noah is like a brother to me. You know how the system works. Once they’ve labeled him a traitor, the other inmates will be gunning for him. They’ll kill him before he even gets a chance to defend himself. And if he survives, his career is gutted.”

Ruth stared at Alex, torn between her heart and her professional instincts. She had always kept her personal and work lives strictly separate—compartmentalizing them was a shield she relied on. But this? This was uncharted and dangerous territory. Witness tampering was a federal crime, and she wasn’t just inexperienced in navigating such a high-profile case—she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to face what it would mean if she failed.

“Please, Ruth,” Alex said, his voice raw with desperation. “He needs you. Someone who is smart, sharp, and willing to fight for what’s right. I can’t think of anyone else who could help him.”

Ruth’s chest tightened. His words hit a vulnerable chord, but they also highlighted the situation. Noah Kandor wasn’t just anyone. He was the man she’d fallen in love with. The thought of stepping in now, of possibly failing him, was almost too much to bear. She felt utterly unprepared for this level of responsibility, for the stakes that came with a case tied to federal crime.