Even a year after joining Tristan’s firm as a junior partner, I stood in awe of how far we’d both come. Poor kids raised by a dockworker and a waitress—we’d earned everything we had. Not like so many of our colleagues whose fancy educations had been given to them by wealthy parents. We’d gotten through law school on our wits—and fully funded scholarships. Sure, the opportunity to join Tristan’s firm had been a gift, but he wouldn’t have considered it if I wasn’t qualified. And over the past year, I’d more than earned my spot. Today, Tristan was defending a client against a wrongful death charge. The stakes were high because the client was well-heeled and influential. The fact he’d had too much booze in his system when he’d plowed into the Summers’ car, killing the mother, was discomforting, but I reiterated the mantra I’d learned during law school—everyone deserved the best defense possible.
What do You think about Stepbrother Studs: Tristan?
