Chapter 2

I spent three years buried in law books, not just for the degree, but for the skills.

I learned to investigate, to see the patterns, to connect the dots others missed.

I worked as a paralegal, a quiet observer in the belly of the legal beast.

All the while, Leo's note burned in my mind.

This year, I applied for the American Justice Fellowship.

My proposal was bold, a direct challenge: a radical reform to protect whistleblowers.

I knew it would make enemies.

That was the point.

I had to get inside, to see what Leo saw.

The day the winner was to be announced, I was at Mom's bakery.

The air was thick with the scent of baking bread, a scent that usually comforted me.

Not today.

"They announce the fellowship winner today," I told her, my voice carefully neutral.

She was kneading dough, her movements precise, economical.

She didn't look up.

"Okay," she said.

Just "Okay."

No flicker of pride, no hint of fear, nothing.

It was a flat, empty sound.

A wall went up around my heart.

I remembered when I was seven, sick with a fever that nearly took me.

Mom had been a lioness, fierce, terrified, her love a palpable force field around my hospital bed.

Where was that woman now?

Her reaction to Leo's death had been similar, a stoic, almost cold withdrawal.

It was as if a part of her had died with him, or perhaps, had been buried long before.

This coldness, this strange detachment, it wasn't just grief. It felt like something else, something hidden.

Later that day, the call came.

I had won.

The American Justice Fellowship was mine.

The news spread instantly.

My phone buzzed with calls, texts, social media notifications.

Pundits on TV were already dissecting it.

"Reckless."

"A death-seeker."

"Doesn't she know the history?"

"What about her poor mother, losing another child to this cursed fellowship?"

They didn't understand.

I wasn't seeking death. I was seeking truth.

I didn't go out to celebrate.

Instead, I went to the steps of the Supreme Court building.

It was a symbolic place. Leo had given a speech there once, full of hope. There were photos of him, beaming, on these very steps.