Justice for Wronged Grandma Chapter 03

Justice for Wronged Grandma Chapter 03

That night.

I walked into the Private Vintage Lounge.

Silas Crane sat in a solid mahogany armchair.

He was older, heavier, wearing a tailored navy blazer.

But I recognized him instantly.

His face, his brow bone—exactly like the old photo I’d carried for thirty years.

“Professor Crane,” I said as I sat down across from him.

He took a sip of tea and looked up.

“Ms. Voss. I’ve looked into you. A girl who came from Haven Hollow, making quite a name for herself at a young age.”

His tone was calm and unhurried—the ease of someone raised by power.

“I also came from a remote valley. I know how hard this journey is.”

He poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward me.

“Whatever your concerns, I’m confident Corinne meets every standard you have. Give her a chance, and I promise you’ll go much further in this industry.”

He smiled and glanced at me.

“You’re young. What you need most is opportunity.”

His gaze was light, casual.

Full of the hypocrisy of someone in power.

No hesitation. No doubt.

Even though everyone said I looked just like my grandmother.

He didn’t recognize me.

He didn’t even know I existed.

“Professor Crane,” I said calmly.

“You also came from a remote valley. I’m curious—”

I stared into his eyes, speaking slowly and clearly.

“How many people did you step on to climb to the top?”

Silas Crane’s gaze turned icy in an instant.

The fake smile on his face vanished.

He set his teacup down sharply.

“Tell me. What do you want?”

What did I want?

I repeated the words in my head.

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

I wanted justice for fifty years ago.

When he left my pregnant grandmother in Haven Hollow.

When he stole her name.

Stole her Federal Resettlement Identity.

Ran off with another woman to live a perfect life.

My grandmother was branded a social outcast, trapped in that valley forever.

My mother was called a stigmatized out-of-wedlock child from birth.

The school wouldn’t let her inside the classroom. They said her mother was dirty, so she was too.

She squatted outside the classroom and listened for two years before the teacher chased her away.

She never got an education.

At thirteen, she started mending leather to survive. Her fingers were covered in tiny needle scars.

Two generations.

Two pairs of broken, worn hands.

They pushed me out of the valley, into law school, and to where I stood today.

I’d been waiting for this moment.

I stared hard at his face.

“Professor Crane, I only want one thing—justice.”

“Before I came here, I already released the final hiring list. Corinne Crane is not on it.”

The lounge went silent.

He looked at me.

I looked back at him.

Separated by fifty years of lies and debt.

His face darkened, and he let out a cold laugh.

“Young lady, you’re making a huge mistake.”

His finger tapped on the table.

“I met with you today to give you a chance. But you’ve narrowed your own path. Don’t blame me for being harsh.”

He stood up and fastened the bottom button of his blazer.

“You’re still too young to block Corinne’s future.”

He turned and walked away.

I sat there, watching his back disappear through the lounge door.

The tea in my cup went cold.

I never took a sip.

That night.

A sudden statement appeared on the firm’s homepage:

[Elara Voss, former partner and interviewer, maliciously blocked qualified candidates from hiring, damaged educational fairness, and has been terminated.]

No investigation. No video evidence.

Only a few cold lines and my photo.

But the comments exploded like a flood.

Public opinion rushed in to judge me:

[So young to be a partner? She must have used improper means to climb the ranks.]

[Serves her right for messing with the wrong people!]

[Employment fairness is ruined by people like her! How many futures has she destroyed?]

I read every comment. I said nothing.

My phone kept ringing.

Abusive messages poured in nonstop.

Two messages were from Corinne:

[Elara, how does it feel to lose everything? Are you sorry yet? Look in the mirror—you’re nothing! How dare you fight me!]

[Tomorrow, Apex Legal Group will hold an official press conference for me. I’ll enter this industry fairly. And you? You’ll never work in law again.]

The screen light shone on my face.

I stared at the words for a long time.

Then I flipped my phone face-down on the desk.

My mother sat beside me, facing away.

Her shoulders trembled.

Her hands, which had mended leather for half her life, squeezed the edge of her shirt until her knuckles turned white.

“Elara…” Her voice was rough and broken.

“Maybe… we should just let it go.”

I took her hands.

The hands that had carried me out of the valley.

Covered in tiny scars.

Rougher than any woman’s hands should be.

I held them for a long time.

“Mom, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

“This family owes us a debt for fifty years. It’s time to pay up.”