Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“He said the procedure was a year ago, Mr. Tate.”
“Well, the prosecutor and I have noticed some issues with his breathing pattern today and—” I pause. “I would hate for him to drop dead in your courtroom, sir.”
“Right.” He rolls his eyes and picks up his gavel. “The two-day continuance is granted, but there won’t be any other delays for this case. Clear?”
He bangs his gavel before I can respond, and my witness bolts from the court like a world-class athlete.
“Thank you, Jameson.” Julia smiles. “I’ll see the real version of you Monday.”
I wait for her to leave before calling Rachel.
“Do you still need me to fake a seizure in the middle of court tomorrow?” she answers on the first ring.
“Of course not,” I say. “I would never ask you to do something so despicable.”
“How many seconds do you need it to last?”
“Forty-eight, with some severe drooling if you can manage.”
“I’ve got you,” she says. “I’ve been practicing all day. What else do you need?”
“Can you check my personal cell phone?” I ask. “I left it on my desk.”
“No, Jameson.”
“I’m not making a request.”
“I’m not checking it again.”
“And I’m not repeating myself…”
She sighs. “The ‘Do Not Answer—Ever’ number has sent you three ‘Fuck you’ texts, two ‘Pick up the phone please’ messages, and a final ‘I hate that I ever met you’ since you’ve been away.”
“Thank you.”
“Want to tell me who this person is?”
“A ghost.”
“So, this isn’t something serious?”
“It never was, and it never will be,” I say. “I’ll see you back at the office.”
I end the call and opt to remain in the courtroom. I retake my seat at the table and spend the next few hours reading through documents without a single image of Scarlett crossing my mind.
It’s not until a security guard alerts me that I have to leave that I realize it’s been five hours.
Packing up my things, I leave—grateful that my distraction phase is over.
The moment I step into the hallway, I see Scarlett standing in front of the grand staircase, holding her phone out to me.
Fuck.
That evening
There’s a man in a light gray pinstriped suit leaning against the front door of my condo when I step off the elevator.
Since the only way up to my floor is via key code or password, I’m confused as to how he managed to slip by security.
He looks at me with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and I can sense that this isn’t a friendly visit.
I keep my distance, weighing my options: One, immediately call the police and risk getting the security team fired. Two, take matters into my own hands and get my own hands bloody if it calls for it. Three, turn around and return to the firm.
“You have five seconds to get the hell away from my door.” I settle for option two. “I didn’t approve any visitors.”
“I don’t remember you being this rude, Jameson.” He doesn’t move. “Then again, you were only a young college student back then.”
“Please walk and talk at the same time.” I gesture to the elevator. “I don’t have time for you, whoever you are.”
“Oh, that hurts me deeply, Jameson.” He utters my name like it’s a cancer. “I remember everything about you perfectly. Good to see how much you’ve progressed as a defense attorney over the years.”
“There are ten seconds standing between you, a broken jaw, and a fractured eye socket.”
“You even make threats like a lawyer.” He smiles and finally moves off my door. Then he holds up a few envelopes. “I was just making sure my letter made it to you, and I also picked up the rest of your mail.”
“Mail tampering is a federal felony.”
“I’m confident I’d beat the charges, but if you want to experience your first loss, go for it…”
Not wanting to give him another second of my time, I walk toward him—stopping when the features of his face become clearer under the light.
His gray eyes are still as cold as they were decades ago, the same shade as they are in the monochromatic memories I can never forget.
His smile remains as crooked as his soul, and despite being a millionaire several times over, he can’t wear a decent suit to save his life.
If there was ever a way for me to get away with murdering this man, I’d take the chance and build my firm over his grave.
“I’m giving you one last chance to crawl back into whatever hellhole you’ve escaped from, Peter Hansel.” I force myself to say his name.
“Hmmm.” He doesn’t flinch in the slightest. “I bet you’re struggling to sleep as a certain case date draws nearer, and I’m really worried about you.”
My blood boils with every syllable that drops from his mouth, and I can’t help wondering if spending the rest of my life in prison might be worth it.