The hall where Victoria met her clients was designed entirely by her.
Dark blue and white. Dark blue sofas. A matching table with transparent glass over it. White tiles, white walls. Several paintings hung throughout. A large television faced the sofas, for discussing cases, reviewing evidence, and watching the news.
But one wall held only a single photo frame. Large. Striking.
It showed the back of a woman with long hair, standing alone in darkness. Below it, words carved into the frame:
"Justice Delayed Is Justice Denied"
The wall above was painted dark blue. Air conditioners in every room. Everything standard, systematic, pleasing to the eye.
Victoria had designed it herself when she earned enough. A space that felt calm. Controlled. Safe.
Of course, she didn't defend everyone for free.
Those who could pay, paid. Those who couldn't pay, they paid later, over time, in small amounts, whatever they could manage. She charged only what she invested in evidence, nothing more. Her fees never rose with her fame.
If she got injured during a case, threats, attacks, the dangers that came with fighting powerful men, she never told her clients. Let alone ask them for more money.
They respected her for it.
Her office was the larger room.
A desk. A chair. Her nameplate is in glass at the front. A black iMac Pro with keyboard and mouse. Behind her, a large bookshelf, beautifully designed. Apple AirPods Max and AirPods Pro on the desk.
She lived luxuriously now. But something was missing.
She couldn't forget running away from home. Couldn't escape the feeling of helplessness when a victim died by suicide. Some survived. Some didn't. The ones who didn't stayed with her forever.
Before becoming a lawyer, her life had been very different.
Her family was wealthy, respected, considered nobles of the country. They attended auctions, ball parties, and high society events. As a child, Victoria went with her mother. But as she grew, she came to hate it. She stopped going entirely, refusing every invitation.
Her parents loved her too much to force her. She was their first child, their only daughter. They believed she would attend when the time came.
She never did.
That's why her face remained unknown in high society. They knew her name, her studies, a few small details. But they could never connect that quiet girl who avoided attention with the lawyer Victoria Helson.
Now, she was almost unrecognisable.
Her hair had changed. Once long and waist-length, now a sharp bob cut - wavy by nature, usually straightened. Her clothes had changed. Once dresses and jeans with coats, now suits and office wear.
But her temperament had changed most of all.
Before: straightforward, frank, cheerful, talkative.
Now: cold. Poker face. Impossible to read. She spoke only when necessary, kept her world to herself.
Before: she hung out with school friends, college friends.
Now, she had no friends. She'd cut off contact with everyone from her past. The friend whose business she invested in kept inviting her out. She kept refusing.
If her family ever saw her, they would surely ask: "Are you the same person?"