Chapter One
LEX
“Thank you, Counselor, is that all?” The judge looks straight through me like I don’t exist. Pompous Prick.
Actually, asshole probably suits better.
“Yes, thank you, Your Honor.” Taking my seat, I look at my client Michelle, trying to put her at ease. This woman has been through enough. It’s the shitty part of the court system. The victim has to sit here, in the same room, mere feet from the person that has totally turned their life upside down.
Sometimes you take on cases where you just want to do more than stand in a courtroom and argue points of law trying to get justice for your client. Like today, where I want to jump the table and grab the smug guy on the stand who has completely destroyed Michelle and her family. Staring at him, I know he has no remorse, what-so-ever. My fist could teach him what it’s like to feel the pain that his victims are battling through every single day.
That noise, of the chair legs scraping across the floor, sends shivers across my skin.
Then the clicking of her heels as she strides to her client.
Counselor Jacinta Nordick.
The woman who tortures me most days both in and out of the courtroom. Her back to me, I eye her slender body. The way she dresses portrays an image of power. Her shoulders back, posture straight as an arrow. Her hair always the same for court, pulled tight into a ponytail high on her head. It sways back and forth as she walks.
Her voice then fills the courtroom. It’s forceful and her words are always sharp, in a take-no-nonsense way.
“Mr. Digby, tell me what you were doing the night of the car accident,” Jacinta says to her client while still standing ramrod straight waiting for his answer.
“I was at my office working hard as I always do. Sometimes I’m there late into the night, trying to keep my business afloat and support my children. Then I realized I was supposed to be at my ex-wife’s house to pick up my kids. She gets mad if I’m late. She always starts carrying on, asking me what woman I was with.”
“Mr. Digby, just the facts, please,” Jacinta snaps.
“Argh sorry, yes. I left my office and hurried to my car. Driving out from the underground parking lot, I saw it was raining. I proceeded to drive cautiously in the weather to my ex-wife’s place. I was on route then the Lewisham’s car just stopped suddenly in front of me. They didn’t give me any time to stop. With the water on the road, my car just skidded, and I couldn’t stop in time. It wasn’t my fault their car then went into the path of the truck…it was just an accident, they should have swerved around the truck.”
Hearing Michelle gasp next to me, I stand abruptly.
“Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Digby is not qualified to make that statement.” The judge looks at me and nods.
“Sustained. Proceed, Mr. Digby, and leave out the judgements of what anyone else should have done. I’m more concerned what you did or did not do that night.”
My heart’s pounding in my chest.
My blood pressure just hit the roof, which is solely from the urge to kill him.
How dare this man judge another driver. The fuckwit was drunk, under the influence of drugs, and there were no signs of him braking at all. My anger is peaking, but I have to keep it under control.
My father always told me don’t get attached to the client. Ignore the emotions. It’s just about the truth, and it’s your job to argue the facts.
Maybe that works for him, but never for me.
How can you ignore another human in such pain?
The morning continues on with the cross examination and more witnesses. Michelle having to take the stand and battle through the pain of retelling the events that led up to the death of her parents in the car accident where she was the backseat passenger. How she sat in the rain holding her mother’s hand as her spirit left her, while her father, lying motionless next to her, had already died on impact, taking the full force of the truck that hit them.
Court recesses for the remainder of the day and we head back to one of the meeting rooms with my assistant and Sam, Michelle’s husband. Giving her time to pull herself together before leaving the courthouse. Also, so she doesn’t have to face the dickhead that hit her car. Hopefully he’ll leave straight away. As I brief her on tomorrow’s procedure, her husband wraps her in his arms. When they start to leave for the day, Sam stops at the doorway and goes to shake my hand.
“Thanks, Alexander. We appreciate all you’re doing for us.” We shake and he guides Michelle out of the room.
Watching them go, I can see how much he loves her and wants to protect her from the hurt. It’s eating him up that he is so helpless.
One of the biggest things I struggle with in life is feeling powerless. I need control, and right now I don’t have it.
That just makes me a very pissed-off man.
“How do you think she’ll cope with another day on the stand tomorrow?” Greta my junior lawyer asks as we pack up our files.
“She’s a strong woman and has support. I just hope to god it will be enough to get her through another round of questioning.” With my arms full and my coat over my arm, my head is full of all the evidence that was submitted this morning.
Court is like playing chess.
Strategic moves, analyzing your opponent and patience.
Backing them into a corner when they least expect it.
Check mate is so sweet coming off my lips.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t always happen, and those days truly suck.
That voice comes from behind me as I’m walking down the corridor. The one that has the hairs on my neck standing up.
“Better bring your A-game tomorrow, Counselor. It’s going to take more than a few tears to get the jury on your side. It’s me you’re up against, not some useless duty lawyer.” That smug grin on Jacinta’s face as she passes us gets to me every time.
And so the game of cat and mouse begins.
Being against her in a case just adds a whole new level of angst.
“See, that’s the thing. The game I need to bring to the table with you on the other side of it is far lower on the alphabet than an A, Counselor. Walk in the park when all the facts are on my side. See you tomorrow.” Turning to walk down the hallway to the elevators that will take me to the garage, I hear that laugh of sarcasm as I get farther away.
“Every time you’re up against her, I see your shoulders pull back and that little eyebrow twitch starts going. It’s sort of funny.” Greta smirks as we enter the elevator.
“Not funny, Greta, she drives me wild,” I grumble. “Makes me want to go all crazy. So, make sure you keep me on a short leash in there tomorrow. You never know what I’m capable of when she’s around.”
If only Greta knew what sort of crazy she makes me. No woman has ever drawn this type of reaction out of me before. Make me lose sleep or have her in my head at ridiculous times of the night. I can’t seem to shake it, and that’s not a good thing.
I always know what is happening in my head and where I’m at. It pisses me off that she is burrowing in somewhere I’ve always managed to keep solely for me.
Arriving back in my office, I unload my files and run through this morning’s proceedings with Greta. I give her the instructions of what we need researched and the information we need for court tomorrow.