81 My mother-in-law ripped my wig off in front of one hundred and forty-six wedding guests.

Six months after the annulment, Miller & Crane Design landed the largest rebranding account in the agency’s history: the complete visual overhaul of the Vance & Sterling Legal Foundation, a newly established non-profit dedicated to providing free civil litigation representation for victims of domestic abuse and corporate intimidation.

The client lead was Julian Vance.

Our weekly design meetings began at his office, but soon transitioned to quiet corner tables at Italian bistros in the North End. Julian was brilliant, razor-sharp, and unexpectedly funny behind his polished attorney exterior.

One rainy Friday evening in April, we sat over espresso and cannoli at a small café on Hanover Street.

“You’ve been working sixteen-hour days, Nora,” Julian said, his amber eyes studying me over the rim of his cup. “The branding mockups for the gala look incredible, but you’re running yourself ragged.”

“I love the work, Julian,” I smiled, adjusting the stylish, asymmetrical auburn wig I had chosen for the evening. “For the first time in my life, I’m building something that is completely mine. No compromises. No walking on eggshells.”

Julian watched me for a moment, his gaze warm and steady.

“Do you know what I thought the first time you walked into my office?” he asked softly.

“That I was a hot mess of a civil case?”

Julian laughed, a low, rich sound. “I thought you were the bravest person I had ever met. Most people in your position would have settled for a quiet divorce and hidden away. You walked into that deposition room with your bare head held high and stared down two bullies without flinching.”

My cheeks warmed. “I had a very good lawyer.”

Julian reached across the small marble table, his fingers gently brushing against mine. His touch was warm, electric, and completely steady.

“I don't want to be your lawyer anymore, Nora,” he said, his voice dropping into an intimate register.

I held my breath. “No?”

“Our contract wraps up on Monday,” Julian murmured, his thumb lightly stroking the back of my hand. “And the minute it ends, I want to take you on a real date. No legal briefs. No talk of trusts or lawsuits. Just you and me.”

I looked down at our hands, then up into his amber eyes. For the first time in a very long time, my heart fluttered not with fear or anxiety, but with pure, unadulterated hope.