“And you’re an expert because…”
“Mom was in an abusive relationship and I witnessed it all. From the beatings to the lying to the flinching. All of it. I was there when she used foundation to hide the bruises but I wasn’t there when she sent me to the neighbor in order to protect me. It takes a lot of courage to go against one’s abuser. I know, because Mom couldn’t, and when she did, it was already too late. So please, help that woman if you can.”
I pause, lowering my hand with the laptop to my side. The emotions in her voice are so raw and real. More real than anything I’ve heard from her before. I always suspected that she was hiding something, that she was cunning and conniving for a reason, but I never thought it would be this.
She’s not even focused on her laptop anymore, only me. There’s desperation in her stiff posture, in the way she continuously adjusts her glasses and touches her chest as if that keeps her rooted in the moment.
I flex my fingers on the laptop. “Why was it too late?”
“What?”
“You said your mum couldn’t ask for help and when she did, it was too late. Why?”
“Because…” She strokes the edge of her glasses, clutches her shirt in her fist, then swallows thickly. “Because…the person she asked for help wasn’t exactly a knight in shining armor.”
“And you think I am?”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“Doesn’t make me a hero.”
“A hero is the last thing women like my mom and that girl need.”
“Why is that?”
“Because heroes follow rules and think about the world’s wellbeing. They’re shackled by outdated codes of honor and self-imposed morals, and that might work in a black and white platonic idealism, but that’s not reality, that’s not how it works. In life, sometimes, the hero has to turn into a villain.”
“Is that what I am? A villain?”
“I heard you could be if the situation requires it.”
“So I’m a part-time villain?”
“I prefer the term, dark warrior of justice.”
“And do you believe in that? Justice?”
“I have to, because if I don’t, I’ll have nothing to believe in, nothing to hope for, and that’s just…too bleak to think about.” She stares at me for that fraction of a second, then lowers her head. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Believe in justice?”
“Not really.”
“Then…why did you become a lawyer?”
“Because justice fucked me over once upon a time and I’m fucking it right back. It’s a grudge of sorts. Justice and I have what people call a love-hate relationship.” No clue why the fuck I’m telling her all of this when I don’t talk about it with anyone, not even T.
My perception about justice has been warped ever since I was a kid, and it only got more complicated as I grew up. I hate justice most of the time, but using it has been giving my life meaning.
However, I don’t like others finding out about my relationship with it, so the fact that I just told her all that is a first.
It could be because she opened up about her mother. Could be because of the way she steals glances at me, even though her head is usually lowered, worshipping the ground.
Or maybe it’s due to the fact that I discovered another depth to her, one that’s toying with my fucking shadows, and I want those gone.
The depth and the shadows.
Or maybe I want them to clash together, to hit rock bottom so that I can watch the type of mayhem it’ll create.
“Justice fucked them over, too,” she whispers. “People like that woman and Mom, I mean. No one heard them scream or saw their hidden bruises. No one stopped to offer them a helping hand or even listened to them. But you can.”
“I’m not exactly a benevolent person.”
“You don’t have to be. Just do what you do best.”
“And what is that?”
She smiles and it’s soft yet raw, just like her words from earlier. As if she’s not only baring her teeth but also a piece of her hidden soul in the process. “Fuck justice over on their behalf.”
I can’t help the tinge of amusement in my voice. “I thought you believed in justice. Now, you want me to fuck it over?”
“When it’s being an asshole, yeah.” She peeks at me through her lashes. “So?”
“I’m still not convinced. You’ll have to try harder.”
A determined fire takes refuge in her eyes. “I will.”
“Are you sure? I’m not the type who easily changes their mind.”
She snatches the laptop from my fingers, and even though I saw it coming, I don’t stop her.
A gleeful, victorious expression covers her features. “And I’m not the type who easily gives up.”
*
“I’m in.” I slide to the seat across from Aspen and focus on the man sitting behind the desk.
Nate, the Weaver of Weaver & Shaw and the managing partner of the firm stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
He’s in his late thirties, has a strong bone structure, and is strict as fuck when it comes to running W&S. While he doesn’t interfere with how we pick our clients, he doesn’t let us completely loose either.
One way or another, he’s involved in every single case that comes knocking on our doors, which is why I’m sure he already knows about Sandra’s.
Either his spying elves told him or Daniel’s big mouth took care of the job. Either way, he doesn’t seem very surprised, just skeptical, really.
That makes two of us.
It took me a few hours of mental processing to come to this decision. After I parted ways with Anastasia earlier today, I went back to my office and thought about the pros and cons.
Naturally, for me, the cons are greater. Not only is this a civil case, but it also hits too close to home, and that’s usually a deal-breaker.
But something Anastasia said kept nagging at me.
No one heard them scream or saw their hidden bruises. No one stopped to offer them a helping hand or even listened to them. But you can.
It reminded me of Dad. If he hadn’t found me and Teal, if he’d rejected us, we would’ve headed down a destructive path. We wouldn’t have become the people we are today.
As if it’s a sign, he called me earlier and asked if I needed anything. I’m a successful twenty-eight-year-old man with a fortune that I’m investing around the globe, but my dad still calls and asks me if I need anything.
He’s never once made me feel as if I’m not his biological son. When I fucked up as a teen, he got mad at me like a normal father would and taught me what the world is all about. When I did something right, he rewarded me and made me feel appreciated and loved.
The combination of his and Teal’s call, as well as Anastasia’s words, sealed the deal for me.
Despite the cons glaring at me from a distance, I’m getting out of my comfort zone.
It was getting boring in there anyway.
Nate continues watching me and so does Aspen. She’s a redhead and one of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen—aside from the icy-haired, blue-eyed little liar.
I take a calming breath to shoo her away from my thoughts.
Back to the topic at hand, Aspen is the only female senior partner at W&S and Nate’s right-hand woman. She’s also Kingsley’s archenemy, so the whole dynamic between the three of them is amusing at best.
She takes a sip from her coffee. “Didn’t you turn her away?”
“I changed my mind.”
“You rarely change your mind, if ever, Van Doren.” Nate leans forward in his chair. “Why now?”
“I didn’t know that her father was being represented by Pearce & Powers, our biggest rivals last I checked.” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs at the ankles. “We can’t let this chance to crush them slide.”
“How about you let me and King worry about Pearce & Powers and tell me the real reason?”
“I smell something fishy, too.” Aspen places her coffee on the table and two pairs of critical, judgmental eyes zero in on me.
“I’m merely interested in the case. What more reason do you need? Just take my word for it and let me do my magic. Needless to say, you guys are invited to have front-row seats.”