I never told my in-laws my dad was the Chief Justice, mostly because I wanted at least one part of my life to belong to me.
For years, being Adrian Vale’s daughter had meant cameras outside school concerts, whispers at charity events, and people deciding who I was before I opened my mouth.
My father loved me fiercely, but his title filled every room before he did.
When I became an adult, he told me something I never forgot: ‘The people who change when they hear my name were never really seeing you in the first place.’
So when I met Thomas Whitmore, polished and charming and ambitious in that expensive, careful way men from old families often are, I didn’t lead with my father’s title.
I told Thomas what mattered.
I worked in community literacy programs.
I loved quiet mornings, old books, and making things from scratch.
