By day three at the Hawthorne Law Firm, I realized something important:
The original Violet had apparently been such a consistent storm of privilege, impatience, and theatrical tantrums that my new… well, normalcy had destabilized the ecosystem.
Rumors began spreading like wildfire.
I heard the first one in the break room when I went in for tea. A junior attorney and a paralegal were whispering furiously behind the counter, unaware I had entered.
"—she smiled at me yesterday," the junior whispered, horrified.
"That's impossible," the paralegal whispered back. "Miss Hawthorne doesn't smile at you unless she's planning to fire you.."
"I SAW IT."
"You better start packing your bags.."
I froze mid-step.
Smiled??
Firing an employee??
Was my friendliness being interpreted as a threat?
Before I could correct them, I accidentally bumped the table with my hip.
Both of them spun around, saw me standing there, gasped in unison, and bolted from the room like I was holding a weapon.
I stared after them.
"…I just wanted tea."
The next rumor reached me around lunchtime when I walked by the open cubicles.
"She hasn't yelled at a single person all week."
"Maybe she's saving it."
"Saving it? SAVING IT FOR WHAT? FOR WHO?"
"I dunno—maybe she's planning a big blow-up?"
"You think she's… hibernating?"
I froze.
Hibernating.
Was I a bear now?
Another voice chimed in:
"No, no. I heard she came back… enlightened."
"Oh god. What does that mean?"
"I don't know! Like, she saw the light."
"What light??"
"The explosion light!"
I blinked.
Okay, to be fair, that one was technically true. I DID see the light, and it DID explode.
Still.
I cleared my throat quietly.
Every head snapped toward me like I'd triggered a motion sensor.
"Good afternoon," I said, trying not to sound threatening.
Half the people flinched.
One man dropped his stapler.
Another whispered, "She's… evolving."
I gave them a small nod and kept walking.
As I reached my office, I muttered under my breath
"I'm not evolving. I'm just trying to be normal."
Apparently that was too much to ask.
Sandra stopped by my office not long after.
She stepped inside and closed the door gently.
Then stared at me for a moment with the kind of expression usually reserved for supernatural events.
"Miss Hawthorne," she began carefully, "there's been… discussion."
"I've heard," I replied.
She sat down across from me, folding her hands.
"They're saying you've changed."
I nodded.
"I have."
"Radically."
I thought about it.
"Yes."
From her perspective, this was true. I'd gone from a bratty heiress to a quiet, hardworking attorney overnight.
Sandra inhaled deeply, as if trying to steady her thoughts.
"I won't pry into… whatever epiphany you had after the accident." She leaned forward slightly. "But I do want to know if this change is permanent."
I blinked.
"Permanent?"
"Yes." She exhaled slowly. "I need stability in this department. If you are truly committed to working, the other attorneys want to know."
I nodded confidently. "I'm committed."
She stared at me for a few more seconds, looking like she was trying to detect whether I was lying.
"I believe you," she said eventually.
That made one of us.
Her gaze drifted to the small stack of files on my desk.
"I've prepared a few more cases for you to review," she said. "They're not too complex. A good test of your analytical skills."
I perked up a little despite myself. "Sure. Let me take a look."
Sandra handed me the files. She lingered a moment longer—probably to see if I would combust halfway through.
I didn't.
Instead, I read through the first case. It involved a contract dispute between a small tech startup and a vendor. The vendor claimed breach of contract; the startup claimed misleading terms. The arbitration clause was shaky, the documents poorly organized, and one page was missing a signature.
Child's play.
I summarized it in twenty minutes.
Sandra looked like she needed a chair.
"You finished already?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And you… understood it?"
"English is still th same..right?."
Her mouth twitched. "Let's see your summary."
She read it.
Then read it again.
Then whispered, "Wow..," under her breath.
I resisted the urge to bang my head on the desk.
Not wow. Just traumatized by my past life.
But if my coworkers wanted to believe I was a legal prodigy instead of a reincarnated office worker with battle scars, I wasn't going to argue.
Twenty minutes later, the rumors changed.
As I walked down the hallway to deliver a file, two interns whispered:
"I heard she can summarize cases in seconds."
"No way."
"Way! Sandra said she's a genius."
"Oh god… what if she's been hiding her true power this whole time?"
My eye twitched.
True power??
Another attorney murmured softly as I passed:
"She's… calm. Too calm."
"Like the eye of a storm."
"Do you think something big is coming?"
"Yes," I muttered, "the gala."
Everyone jumped.
I quickly waved a hand. "No, no—carry on."
They didn't. They scattered.
I heard another absurd rumor on my way back from the restroom.
"I heard she died and came back."
"Well… technically she survived a bomb."
"No, I mean spiritually."
"Oh. That tracks."
I closed my eyes briefly.
"Well, they were right about that one.." I thought
Back in my office, I sat down and sighed.
Work was strangely easy now that I wasn't drowning under unrealistic deadlines or toxic expectations. Hawthorne resources made everything smoother. Assistants handled administrative things. IT actually responded to requests—and coffee was free.
My past self would've cried with joy.
I leaned back and gazed out the window.
Sunlight streamed into my office.
A small plant sat on my desk.
My chair didn't squeak when I moved.
"I could get used to this," I murmured.
My phone buzzed.
I froze.
Slowly… I picked it up.
An email from HR:
Reminder: Charity Gala is tomorrow evening.
Dress code: Formal.
Family photos scheduled pre-event.
I flopped forward onto the desk.
"Never mind," I groaned. "I cannot get used to THIS."
The gala hung over my head like a guillotine.
As if on cue, Sandra poked her head into my office.
"Miss Hawthorne? Just a reminder—you'll be representing the Legal Division at the gala tomorrow. Please be prepared."
I raised my head like a tragic Victorian heroine.
"Do I really have to?"
"Yes," she said gently. "It would reflect poorly on the firm if you didn't attend."
I buried my face in my hands.
Sandra hesitated. "It won't be too bad. You'll be with your family. And your brother will be there. And…"
She paused.
"And?"
She cleared her throat. "And so will Stark Industries."
I let out a long, slow, soul-emptying exhale.
"Yes," I said darkly. "I'm aware."
Sandra offered me a sympathetic look—one of the first genuinely warm expressions I'd seen from her.
"I know things may be stressful, but you're doing well here, Miss Hawthorne. The other attorneys… they'll adjust."
I nodded into my hands.
"They think I'm hibernating."
Sandra froze.
"…Ah," she said politely. "Rumors."
"Yes. Rumors. Plural."
She awkwardly patted the doorframe. "Rest well today. Tomorrow is… important."
Then she left.
I remained slumped for a minute longer before lifting my head.
"Okay," I whispered. "I just need to get through this gala without ruining anything. Or talking to Marian Stark. Or breathing near Marian Stark. Or being seen by Marian Stark."
Simple.
Easy.
Totally achievable.
The lights flickered in my office—probably a coincidence, but it felt like a warning.
I sat back and opened another case file.
Work was peaceful.
My coworkers feared me a little less.
The office was warming to me, slowly.
The only threat was one woman with intense eyes and an unknown motive.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself.
"One day at a time," I told myself. "First, survive the law firm. Then… survive the gala."
I did not specify what came after.
I didn't want to know.