“Rachel, meet Joyce Brennan from Traverse Industries.”
“Joyce. Rachel Miles.”
I stood, shaking hands with the general counsel of one of Texas’s largest companies. The new client Patricia had mentioned.
“Ms. Miles,” Joyce said, studying me with sharp eyes, “I’ve heard interesting things. Forty-one companies can’t be wrong.”
“I maintain strong professional relationships,” I said carefully.
“Cut the lawyer speak.” Joyce smiled. “I’ve been in this business 40 years. I know a coup when I see one. The question is—can you handle what’s coming?”
“What’s coming?”
“Peterman is desperate. They’ve hired Bradford and Associates to sue you, Bailey and Lock, and any client who switches firms. Tortious interference. They’re claiming conspiracy to destroy a business.”
Bradford and Associates—the firm that defended tobacco companies and chemical polluters. When you hired Bradford, you weren’t looking for justice. You were looking for blood.
“They can try,” Martin said. “We have documentation showing every client contacted us independently.”
“Documentation won’t matter if they bury you in motions,” Joyce said. “Bradford will file in multiple jurisdictions, demand expedited hearings—basically bleed you dry with legal fees.”
“Why are you telling us this?” I asked.
“Because Traverse Industries needs new counsel, and I don’t like being threatened. Jake Peterman called our CEO yesterday, said any company that hires you will be named in their lawsuit, claimed you have stolen trade secrets that give unfair competitive advantages.”
My stomach clenched.
“What did your CEO say?”
“He said Traverse doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.” Joyce grinned. “Then he authorized me to retain Bailey and Lock immediately. Full corporate representation. Five-year contract.”
Martin actually gasped. Traverse would be Bailey and Lock’s largest client by far.
“There’s more,” Joyce continued. “I’ve spoken with my counterparts at several other companies. We’re forming what we’re calling a legal defense consortium. Any company that gets sued for changing firms will have their defense costs covered by the group.”
“A union for corporations?” I asked.
“Insurance. Strength in numbers. Also sends a message: you come after one of us, you fight all of us.”
By noon, 17 companies had joined the consortium. By 2 p.m., 23.
The response from Peterman was swift and predictable. At 3:45, a process server arrived with a stack of lawsuits. Bailey and Lock was named in six different actions across three jurisdictions. I was personally named in four.
Janet assembled our litigation team in the main conference room.
“They’re throwing everything at the wall. RICO claims conspiracy. Theft of trade secrets. Intentional infliction of emotional distress. That’s a new one.”
“Emotional distress.” I read through the complaint. “Jake Peterman is claiming I caused him severe psychological trauma by doing my job too well.”
“It’s a scare tactic,” Janet said.
“But defending against multiple suits will cost nothing,” Joyce Brennan interrupted, walking in uninvited. “The consortium’s outside counsel will handle all defense. We’ve retained Morrison, Klein, and Black.”
Morrison Klein. They didn’t just fight lawsuits—they eviscerated them. Having them on our side was like bringing a nuclear weapon to a knife fight.
“Additionally,” Joyce continued, “we’re filing our own action. Defamation, business disparagement, and abuse of process. Jake Peterman made recorded statements to multiple CEOs threatening their companies. That’s actionable.”
Martin looked at me.
“This is escalating beyond what any of us expected.”
I thought about Jake in his corner office, feet on his father’s desk, firing me because I didn’t fit his vision of innovation. I thought about Tori, probably crying in a bathroom somewhere as another deal collapsed. I thought about 41 companies that had trusted me with their success, now scrambling to protect themselves from a firm that had forgotten its only job was to serve clients.
“Let it escalate,” I said. “Jake wanted disruption. He’s about to learn what that really means.”
Joyce smiled.
“I like her, Martin. No wonder Patricia speaks so highly of her.”
My phone vibrated. Another text from Marcus.
“Emergency partner meeting just called. Rumor is Jake’s father is flying back from Europe. This is bad.”
I showed the text to Janet. William Peterman—the founder. He retired 2 years ago.
“If he’s coming back,” Martin shook his head, “this isn’t just about losing clients anymore. This is about saving the firm.”
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