Chapter 2
Sandra kept pushing. She wouldn't drop it.
Sitting on the cold floor, I finally opened up and began to share the story between me and Mom.
Back when Mom first started out, she wasn't some legal legend or superstar.
She was just an intern at a law firm—fetching coffee, making copies. And I was the kid she dragged along everywhere.
She had no support, no husband.
My father threw us out. Like we were trash.
Winters up north were bone-chilling.
Mom was dressed in nothing but thin business attire, clutching me tight as we shivered together under an overpass.
I knew she was starving, so I went out and begged for a crust of bread. I put it in her hands and told her to eat.
It was that kind of despair that woke something in her. A will I'd never seen before.
From that day on, she changed. Completely.
By 30, she'd won the industry's highest award. By 35, she was a partner at the firm.
At 40, she handled a case that made national headlines, and she was showered with honors.
The man who had kicked us out years ago came crawling back, begging for another chance.
But Mom stood before him, her expression icy, and slapped a lawsuit down in front of him.
She said, "I remember exactly who stood by me and who tried to kick me when I was down.
"From today, you are nothing to Alison or me.
"I'll make sure Alison has the best life possible, and no one will ever hurt her."
After that, Mom never stopped moving forward. And she never left me behind.
No matter how busy she was, she always made time for me every day.
When I was cramming for my SATs, she even turned down a million-dollar case just to stay home and help me.
When I was looking for a job, she called in every favor she had to get me in the door.
I was scared I'd become a weight on her shoulders.
But Mom looked at me and said, "Alison, that piece of bread you gave me in the snow that winter? I wouldn't be here without it.
"From that moment, I vowed to give you the best life.
"Alison, you mean everything to me. No matter how high I climb, you are always my only weakness."
That was just how she was. Unshakable. Unbending.
Once she decided on something, she held on and never let go.
In court, she showed no mercy.
At home, raising me, her word was absolute law.
Even when it meant sacrificing her own daughter for the sake of "justice," she didn't hesitate.
"Trading her own child for justice?" Sandra blurted out, her eyes wide with disbelief.
She went on, "You two were so close, practically each other's whole world, and she still sent you to prison?
"Did you kill someone or burn something down?
"Or was it like one of those TV shows—were you running some massive drug ring?"
Nope.
The reason I ended up behind bars?
Assault.
By the time I was 22, Mom was already a legal titan. Untouchable.
Winning corporate lawsuits wasn't enough for her anymore.
She threw herself into what she called "social justice."
Money? Power? She didn't care.
But her reputation? That was everything.
No matter if it was a billionaire or a government big shot—if they broke the law, Mom would take them all down, no exceptions.
She'd make sure every single one ended up behind bars.
What she was proudest of was her image—absolutely fair, never bending the rules for anyone.
She used to say, "This commitment to fairness is what put me at the top.
"The law is the same for everyone. Even my own family. If they do wrong, they face the consequences.
"Not a single flaw is allowed in the process."
She said she loved the law.
But what she really loved was the power. The thrill of holding someone's fate in her hands.
In the courtroom, she was a god.
Guilty or not. Freedom or a cell. She decided it all.
In that room, she had the final word.
I never really understood her grand speeches or lofty principles.
One day, Victor Grant, the poor student my mom was supporting, suddenly looked up.
He said, "Ms. Shaw is right. I admire that kind of.
"Justice shouldn't play favorites. Family, friends—it doesn't matter. A clear conscience is what counts.
"Did you see me in the mock trial? I did well. All thanks to Ms. Shaw. She's a great teacher."
That summer when the cicadas wouldn't shut up, everything changed for me.