“Exactly,” I confirm. “Two summers total, but three college years of commitment and then we reevaluate.”
“And if you decide not to stay?” His tone is almost curious.
“Then I walk away with valuable experience, you get three years of my time, and we both move on.”
More tapping. I hold my breath.
“I suppose I could present this to the partners as a… trial phase,” he says finally. “A chance to groom the next generation without rushing into permanent arrangements.”
I exhale slowly. “Is that your way of saying we have a deal?”
“We have a deal,” he confirms. “Tiffany's case will be dropped the minute you sign the contract, and you'll join us for a three-year internship program, after which we'll… reassess your future with the firm.”
A wave of relief crashes over me so hard it nearly knocks the air from my lungs. For a moment, I just sit there, blinking at the wall, letting the realization sink in.
Did I just do this? Have I just taken away years of stress for Zach and his family?
Tiff and Ella will be free.
Not maybe. Not hopefully. Not someday.
Now.
Free to pack their bags, kiss Connecticut goodbye, and start over in Indiana without the shadow of the Nicks name breathing down their necks. Free from the courtroom threats and whispered judgments.
Zach will finally be able to rest and just focus on school and football. The way it should’ve always been for him.
“You'll be working with some of our best associates,” my father continues, smoothly changing the subject. “Learning the business from the ground up.”
“What about Jamie?” I ask, unable to stop myself. “Will he be there?”
I haven’t seen Jamie since we graduated high school. He’s at Southern Collegiate now, and for all I know, he’s getting the entire college pregnant.
There's a slight pause. “You won't need to concern yourself with Jamie,” he says dismissively. “Your paths won’t cross.”
Which is bullshit, obviously. Jamie was always the future crown prince of the Nicks half of the empire. Always front and center. Always too charming for his own good.
“So… he's okay with this arrangement?” I press, wanting to know more of what my father has planned. “With me joining the firm?”
“The arrangements have been made, Hunniford,” my father says, his tone indicating he's done discussing Jamie. “Focus on your internship. Leave the rest to me.”
He wants Jamie out, that much is for sure, but I’m still unclear about how I’m going to help him with that.
“What exactly will I be doing during this internship?” I ask, deciding to shift focus for now.
“You’ll rotate through departments. Legal research, case prep, client intake, the usual.” His tone is clipped and clinical. “But if you’re as capable as I believe, there’s room for more. This could be your legacy—if you choose it.”
The word “legacy” hangs in the air between us. My father has been talking about the Sanderson legacy since I was old enough to understand what it meant. It was always presented as my birthright, my duty. It was never as a choice. It's what pushed me toward Jamie in the first place, what nearly trapped me in a life I never wanted but thought I did.
“Three years,” I remind him. “That was our deal. After that, I decide what I want.”
“Of course,” he says, but there's a note in his voice that makes me slightly uneasy. “Three years, starting this semester.”
“And in return, Tiff gets custody, and all legal actions are dropped immediately.”
“Correct. As I said, it's already being handled.”
Already being handled.