CHAPTER ONE
New York City, 2018
Donna Cox had to win the case, or four clients would not be able to buy bread next month. They waited for the hearing in a court waiting room. Marta and Helena sat to her right, ripe like watermelons. To Donna’s left, Teresa and Gloria, both single mothers, whispered in Spanish while rocking two strollers that looked like their best days were long behind.
All four women had been cleaners in a big company, Cinderellas Inc. Their supervisor had fired them as soon as he’d found out they were pregnant. Donna was glad they were brave enough to sue. Most women in their situation did not dare.
Donna’s phone rang, and the word “Mom” lit up the screen. Mother was Donna’s partner in their two-woman law firm in Brooklyn. Donna held up her index finger to her clients to signal that she’d be right back and went out into the hall.
“Mom? I can’t talk. I’m about to go in for the hearing.”
“That’s why I’m calling. There’s been a change, and I’ll need you to keep your cool.”
“A change?”
“Yes. I found out a minute ago. Ferguson and Partners replaced Virginia with—darn it—with Daniel Gleason.”
Heat spread over Donna’s cheeks. Daniel Gleason represented everything she passionately despised in the world and the reason she specialized in discrimination lawsuits.
New York swarmed with Daniel Gleasons, and they enjoyed way too much power over women. They ran law firms, hedge funds, and insurance companies. Sometimes, they taught at schools, drove cabs, and mixed cocktails. And one of them had broken Donna’s heart.
Daniel looked like a Norse god in a suit. A typical alpha male, he thought only pretty women should be secretaries and that all female CEOs and politicians were lesbians. Three years ago, he had insisted that Donna should stop working, find a rich husband, and give birth to five sons. Back then she had secretly hoped he wanted to be that husband. Despite herself, she had considered following his suggestion because she was in love.
Thank heavens she hadn’t. Not that he’d ever proposed. In retrospect, she was glad he’d stopped sleeping with her one day. He’d taught her a lesson.
The lesson she’d thought was part of her DNA, something her single mother had fed her every day with breakfast. To never—ever—fall in love with a mouthwatering hunk with a big ego and a sexy smile.
That was why she only dated geeks—often writers or web designers. Guys who respected women. So what if the sex was as stale as day-old champagne. They were smart and funny. They begged her for another date, not the other way around.
“Donna? Are you there?”
Donna blinked, her hand shook. “Yes, Mom.”
“Honey. Listen to me. This is the most important lawsuit of your career. Our career. This could be huge for our firm. Put aside your anger. Are you sure you can manage?”
Donna let out a long breath. It didn’t help. “I bet this is precisely why they put him on the case.”
Mom sighed. “They know the type of men we fight against. Still. You can do it.”
“All right. I’m going back in.”
“Good luck.”
Donna hung up and shook her hands to relieve the pressure. When she went back into the waiting room, an older woman was in her seat. She looked like a universal grandma in small, round spectacles. She knit a wide scarf with a pattern of interwoven tree branches—it reminded Donna of Celtic or Viking art. A golden spindle lay on her lap. Donna did not have time to think about how peculiar she was, because right next to the woman, on Marta’s seat, was Daniel.
Donna froze as if she’d hit a glass wall. She had not seen him for three years, and he looked even yummier—and more arrogant—than before. Tall, broad-shouldered, and perfectly built, he sat with his long legs stretched out and ankles crossed. He watched her with a patronizing smirk as if she was a cute little kitten about to fight a bull.
Donna’s cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of the unresolved past, and hate burned her like acid. He was using her past feelings against her by being here.
She frowned. Something was wrong in this picture.
Her eight-month pregnant client was standing, rubbing her lower back, leaning against the wall and grimacing in pain, while this son of a butterfly sat on her chair as if he were waiting for a massage in a Turkish sauna.
No. This had not just happened! Fury lit her blood on fire. Donna marched towards them, her heels clacking murder against the marble floor of the courthouse.
“What do you think you are doing, Daniel? You self-centered orangutan! Did you take a pregnant woman’s seat? Did you tell her to go back to Mexico? Do you realize we can sue you personally for this? We have witnesses.” She pointed at the old lady.
Daniel’s face lost all color, and the smirk dropped down his face like a wet towel.
He jumped to his feet. “Donna— No, I’d never— I didn’t—”
This was new. She had never seen him stutter like this. Maybe she should throw accusations at him more often.
Marta glanced sheepishly at her. “Donna, as much as I enjoy the show, Mr. Gleason did not steal my seat. My lower back is killing me. I needed to walk.”
Mortification struck Donna like a wet snowball. Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, the arrogant smirk lighting up his face again.
“Who will sue now, Donna? But, I feel generous. I’m willing to forget your insults if I can buy you a drink after I win today. Would be great to catch up.”
Donna took a deep breath. She realized Daniel had gotten what he’d come for. He shook her off balance, made her emotional, and showed her who was in control.
No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She was a great lawyer. A Harvard graduate. She needed to show him his place. If only she could find the confidence. Everyone was looking at Donna—even the old lady, a sly little smile spreading her lips.
“You know what, Daniel. I will never let you win. You can shove your drink up your nose.”
She knew she sounded ridiculous, but anger and embarrassment choked her throat. Why could she not do trash talk?
Donna turned her back to Daniel and, pretending to look through the lawsuit documents, went out of the waiting room into the hall like a high school girl. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, so she could take a breath for a moment.
“Excuse me—Donna, is it?”
Donna turned around, her cheeks still on fire. The old lady with the knitting stood behind her.
“Yes?” Donna took a step towards her.
The woman studied her with the curiosity of a scientist. She had an accent Donna couldn’t place. “I could not help but overhear. It seems you have an issue with strong men.”
Donna frowned. “I do not have an issue with strong men!”
“Oh, you do, dear. I need you somewhere. No, wrong. There is a man who needs you.”
“Needs me? As a lawyer? I mostly represent women against men, so—”
The lady smiled. “Exactly. Could you hold this for me please?”
She held out the spindle, which Donna now noticed was carved tree branches, snakes, and leaves, knotted together in an unending pattern. Donna wondered distantly, who would use a spindle nowadays? Her palm closed around it.
The metal burned her fingertips like a hot cup of tea after a cold day, smooth and sharp. The waiting room disappeared. It was as if something sucked Donna’s blood out of her body, a thousand of axes cut her flesh, and a furnace melted her bones. She screamed in pain but only heard the chanting of a man, and she spun and spun like the golden spindle.
And then there was nothing.