Page 229 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

Then her gaze found me.

My stomach dropped elegantly through the floor.

“And finally,” Helena said, “Payton & Wallace is pleased to announce the formal launch of our Cultural Restitution and Provenance Practice Group.”

Moira’s hand brushed my elbow.

“This initiative exists because the Virelli matter reminded us that legal recovery begins long before a complaint is filed. It begins with someone willing to see the overlooked detail, ask the better question, and understand that value is not always where the room has been taught to look.”

Oh no. Absolutely not. My eyes were already hot.

Helena Wallace, who had likely never lost a fight to tear ducts in her life, continued without mercy.

“Quinn Bradley came to us as an intern,” Helena said. “During the Virelli matter, she didn’t merely assist. She changed the direction of the case.”

Rafe stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.

“She saw value where others saw inconvenience. She noticed people who had been treated as peripheral and understood that they were often the ones holding the key piece of information. She asked sharper questions than people with more authority, and she had the discipline not to mistake charm for strategy or instinct for evidence.”

My throat tightened.

Helena’s gaze held firm on mine, and somehow that made it worse.

“She is observant, relentless, and unusually humane in a field that too often rewards detachment over empathy. This practice group will require attorneys who can read documents, yes, but also rooms. Motives. Silences. The difference between what an institution says and what a person needs before they can tell the truth.”

Beside me, Moira made a small sound and immediately pretended she had not.

Helena continued. “Quinn has already proven she can do that work. Payton & Wallace is pleased to announce that she will join the firm full-time as a legal fellow in the Cultural Restitution and Provenance Practice Group while she completes her final requirements. Upon bar passage and admission, she will be offered an associate position with the team.”

For a moment, I forgot there were people in the room.

Then Helena’s mouth softened by the smallest possible amount.

“We’re fortunate to have her.”

Then Moira whooped. She didn’t clap, she whooped in a most undignified manner.

Several partners startled. Rafe’s father laughed. Avery, who must have slipped in behind us, whistled with such force that Max barked once in apparent support.

The room applauded.

Mom reached me first. She hugged me with both arms and the same fierce certainty she had brought to every rented apartment, tuition bill, and bad day of my childhood.

Dad waited until she let go, then put one hand behind my head and kissed my forehead.

“Smartest person I know,” he said.

“You say that about Mom.”

“What can I say? I know two very smart people.”

Mom wiped beneath one eye and looked at Helena as if considering whether the managing partner also needed a hug. Helena took a measured step backward.

I laughed, which saved us all.

I stood there under it, hand in Rafe’s, feeling praise hit every part of me that still expected a bill to follow.

Rafe leaned closer, his mouth near my ear.