“Could you also read what you wrote after the PS?”
I rolled my eyes. “Since you’ll only be around women for the next fifteen years, I suggest you give pussy a try. The taste is quite impeccable.”
“Objection, your honor.” The prosecutor stood up. “I don’t see how this document is relevant to the case. The defense also failed to produce that letter during discovery. I move to strike.”
“Sustained. Consider it stricken.” The judge looked at his watch and then stood up. “Let’s adjourn for lunch. Testimony will continue this afternoon.”
As the jury and the courtroom attendees filed out, I sat still. I had nowhere to go.
“I didn’t know he was going to bring up your daughter. I’m so sorry…” The prosecutor offered me a small smile. “I’ll redirect once he gets done…Your partner is definitely going down, he’s just trying to discredit your character a bit, to make him look a little more sympathetic to the jury.”
“You are aware that I’m a lawyer as well, right?” I stepped off the stand. “I know exactly what he’s trying to do.”
I stepped out of the court and outside into a heavy snowfall, looking up at the sky. I considered leaving the courthouse and risking contempt, but a part of me wanted to help seal the deal on Kevin’s fate.
It’d been a long time coming—all the lies, the betrayal, the pain, and he deserved whatever he was going to get.
Someone tapped my shoulder from behind.
“You got a minute?” A familiar voice asked. Kevin.
“I don’t.”
“I figured…” He sighed. “Whatever happens at the end of this trial—”
“Did you not hear what I said?” I spun around to face him, taken aback by how haggard he looked up close. Time hadn’t been good to him at all.
“I’m sorry for everything me and Ava put you through,” he said with a genuine look in his eyes. “The money and clients were coming in so fast and we were all so young…”
“Young?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Young and dumb, you know? It was—”
“Dumb as fuck.” I clenched my jaw. “But it was more than stupidity, Kevin. It was greed. And when the newspapers started to put the pieces together, when the clients started demanding answers, you both turned on me. You blamed me…You filed for custody of Emma, knowing damn well you didn’t really want her. You just wanted to hurt me since you were her biological father.”
“Liam…”
“And you did.” I could honestly admit that once and for all. “You really fucking did…”
“If I could take it back—”
“You can’t.” I cut him off. “But you can tell me one thing…”
“What is it?”
“The night you ruined my life…Well, not the first night, the night that came months later, were you drinking?”
“What does it matter now?”
“Were you fucking drinking that night?” I glared at him and he sighed, looking down at the ground.
“Yes…”
“Thank you for finally being honest.” I scoffed. “I’ll sleep even easier at night knowing that you’ll be joining Ava behind bars after this week.”
“Ava’s back in prison?” He looked hurt, disappointed.
“Nine more years.” I smiled, but it quickly faded. “Six more than what Emma got.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond. My heart was clenching at the thought of losing Emma again, at imagining all the pain she must’ve felt on her last day, so I shut my eyes—trying to block another dark memory from passing by.
Reasonable Doubt (n.):
Not being sure of a criminal defendant's guilt to a moral certainty.
Six years ago…
Liam Henderson
Living in New York never felt ordinary. Every day there was something new to discover, something I’d never seen before.
Even though I was still running on the fumes of winning one of the biggest, yet non-reported cases in the state, I was still trying to find myself—personally and professionally. I was realizing that national popularity would always elude me, but as long as I was under-rated and not over-rated, I was perfectly fine with that.
I dropped a book of essays on my coffee table once I heard a loud knock at the door. It was a familiar loud and annoying one that my best friend Kevin always used.
“You know, you can’t keep coming over in the middle of the—” I stopped talking when I realized it wasn’t Kevin. It was a woman and a man, dressed in grey suits.
“Are you Liam Andrew Henderson?” The woman asked.
“Who’s asking?”
“Are you Liam Andrew Henderson?” The man spoke sternly.
“Depends on who wants to know.”
They both blinked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m Liam Henderson.”
“You’ve been served.” The woman thrust a thick blue envelope into my hand, the tenth time this had happened to me this week.
“Is this some type of joke? Is the New York Times trying to get a rise out of me again?”
They exchanged glances, confused.
“I was just doing my job,” I said. “If they want to continue their pettiness by refusing to print my picture for the rest of their paper’s life, that’s fine. I’m okay with that, really. But serving me papers as a prank every day for a week and a half—”
“The SEC doesn’t do pranks,” the woman said, before they both walked away.
I shut my door and immediately called Kevin.
“This better be an emergency,” he answered. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Has our firm pissed anyone off lately?”
“Of course we have. Why?”
“I just got served papers by the SEC, again.”
“Have you actually opened any of the other ones?” he asked.
“Two of them,” I walked over to my coffee table and pulled out a drawer. “Something about a client named Ferguson who claims we haven’t been putting his money in escrow? He’s suing us for five million and supposedly contacting our other clients. Do we even have a client named Ferguson?”
“We have three clients named Ferguson.”
“Have we pissed any of them off?”
“Not to my knowledge.” He sounded concerned. “I’m pretty sure they would’ve contacted us first before filing the charges, don’t you think? Are you sure it’s not The New York Times playing a mean joke on you? This is like the tenth letter you’ve received.”
“That’s the first thing I asked tonight. They said it’s not them.”
We were both silent for several seconds.
“It’s them.” We laughed in unison.
“Sorry for calling at this hour.” I stuffed the envelope into the drawer with all the others. “I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up.
“Daddy?” Emma walked into the living room, wiping her eyes as she walked over to me. “Can I go play?”
“It’s three in the morning, Emma.” I shook my head. “What do you think?”
“I want to go play…” She smiled, giving me that look that made me incapable of saying no.
I smiled back and kissed her forehead, thinking of where we could possibly go out at this hour. Central Park was out of the question, as was any park, really. There was a twenty four hour donut shop nearby that we could walk to or—
I stopped mid thought. Kevin was having a special playroom built for her at the office, a room that was twice the size of his own. He’d said it would prevent me from using “I have to go check on Emma” as an excuse when we worked on demanding cases.
“I know somewhere we can go.” I picked her up and carried her to her room, helping her into her favorite shoes—a pair of red rain boots she wore every day, even when it wasn’t raining. “Okay, go sit on the couch so I can get dressed and then we’ll go okay?”
She rushed out of her room without saying another word. I really needed to find a way to curb her wake-up-at-three-in-the-morn
ing routine ASAP, but a part of me liked it. It was our special time together.
I put on a sweatshirt and sent my wife a quick email.
Subject: Emma.
Taking Emma out to play. Are you still at the coffee shop?
Love you,
Liam
Subject Re: Emma.
What are you going to say when she asks you for a pony?
(Yes, I’m still here…Tax season is going to be the death of me. Want me to bring you a cup back? Want to try a latte?)
I love you more,
Ava
Subject: Re: Re: Emma
Nothing. I’ll just buy the pony.
(No, thank you. You know I really hate coffee.)
Impossible. I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Liam
“I’m ready! I’m ready!” Emma rushed into my room, knocking over a stack of folders. “I’m ready!”
Laughing, I put my phone in my pocket and attempted to stuff the papers back in order—stopping once I saw my signature. Forged.
Confused, I sifted through the other papers-noticing the same thing.
What is this?
“Let’s go, Daddy!” Emma tugged on my pants.
I tucked the folder underneath my arm and clasped her hand. “Your nap today is going to have to last for at least five hours. Do you know that?”
“I don’t like naps.”
“Of course you don’t…” I walked her out of our apartment and to my car. As usual, Ava had slipped a note underneath the windshield wipers.
Dear Husband,
I love you—so very much, and it pains me to see you, someone with as much money and status as you have, driving a car like this. I know you’re modest, and the most expensive suit you own probably costs eighty dollars, but come on! You have to live, Liam!
I’m taking you car shopping next week and I’m not taking no for an answer,
Ava.
PS—Thank you for the roses you sent me yesterday. I got you something special and placed it on your desk at the office.
I smiled and secured Emma into her car seat, giving in when she requested to listen to her favorite song on repeat while riding to the firm.
The sleek design of the building still took people’s breath away when they saw it for the first time. It was the one thing I spared no expense on when constructing; I made sure the translucent gold panels were state of the art, that the law scale statues were properly erected on marble ledges, and that the stone letters above the entrance—“Henderson & Hart” were polished every week.
And, as a giant “fuck you” to the government for burying my first case, the case that should’ve made me a household name and landed me on billboards all over this country, I had the office built right in front of their Social Security Office.
Pulling into the reserved parking spot, I looked in my rearview mirror—seeing that Emma was fast asleep.
Figures…
I stepped out and carried her inside anyway. I was sure she’d wake up soon.
“Good morning, Mr. Henderson.” An intern greeted me as I walked inside.
“Good morning, Laura,” I responded. “Am I in a different time zone today? Why is everyone awake and working right now?”
She blushed. “It’s tax season.”
“I keep hearing that…” I stepped onto the elevator. “I’ll see you later.”
Emma stirred in my arms, murmuring, but only soft snores followed.
When the elevator doors glided open, I walked through the massive “H&H” glass doors headed to Emma’s half-finished playroom. I gently lowered her onto the massive pink bed and tucked her under the covers, whispering “I love you,” before I dimmed the lights.
I took a seat in the corner and pulled out the folder that was under my arm, reading over what seemed like written receipts and accounts of money exchanges. Things I didn’t recall doing.
I pulled out my phone to text Ava, to see if this was just another elaborate joke—something she was prone to pulling, but I heard her voice.
“Fuck!” She yelled.
I jumped up and headed to where the shouting had come from, pausing once I heard a familiar voice.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good…”
“Ahhhh….” Ava was moaning. “Just fuck me…Fuck me harder…”
I completely froze, unable to take another step. I didn’t want to believe another man—Kevin, from the sound of things, was fucking my wife or that she was cheating on me.
I couldn’t believe it. I trusted her way too much.
But, as she screamed a few more times—the same screams she yelled when having sex with me, I knew it was true.
“Is this how you always conduct business, Mrs. Henderson?” Kevin asked, laughter in his voice.
“Are you seriously going to call me that after we just fucked?” She groaned. “Can we actually get back to work now? That’s the third interruption tonight and I’d actually like to get something done.”
“Fine, fine…”
Papers shuffled, windows opened, but I remained frozen—still in disbelief. It wasn’t until I peered through the slit of the door that my brain actually began to process what was happening.
“What are we going to do about this Ferguson shit?” Kevin asked.
“Ferguson shit? That’s what we’re calling it?”
“Oh, right. Here’s a better name for it: Five to ten years for me. Fifteen years for you.”
“I was thinking twenty.”
“Twenty?” He slammed the table. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Twenty years? Are you suggesting that we just turn ourselves in?”
“No…” she said. “Just Liam.”
“What?” He sounded appalled. “Are you joking right now?”
“Do you hear me laughing?”
Silence.
“Ava, look…” He sighed. “Liam is like a brother to me—”
“Says the man who’s currently fucking his wife…Some brother you are.”
“This is a mistake.”
“A mistake would be one time,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “Once a day for the past few years isn’t necessarily the same thing. Sorry.”
My heart sank.
“It was a mistake, Ava.” He looked conflicted. “Tonight was going to be the last time anyway. I can’t keep doing this to him.”
“I don’t want to stop.” She walked over to the window and sighed. “I can’t…”
“What?”
“He doesn’t give me what I need anymore…”
“You’ll have to find a way that he can. Now actually might be a good time to start, seeing as though he might have to be your lawyer.”
She turned around in tears. “Is this really the last time?”
“The first time should’ve been the last time.” He walked over and massaged her shoulders. “You were only using me…You tend to forget that.”
“I wasn’t—” She choked back a sob. “I wasn’t using you…”
“Yes you were.” He kissed her lips. “And that’s okay. I sympathized.”
“Did you think I was a horrible person?
“No.”
“You promise?”
He nodded, cupping her face in his hands. “He couldn’t give you a baby and you wanted one…Naturally…That’s completely understandable.”
I held back a gasp.
“He doesn’t fuck me like you do...” she whispered.
“Stop it, Ava.” He kissed her cheek. “Stop it.”
I didn’t want to hear anymore.
I couldn’t take it.
As the two of them kissed and held each other—completely immersing themselves in their own world, I forced myself to walk away.
I hit the lights in my office and noticed a bright blue box on my desk. It read, “To: the love of my life. From: Your first and only love.”
My heart ached again as I tore the wrapping and looked inside: A new set of cufflinks, a set that probably cost more than
all of my suits combined. My initials were engraved in them, and she’d enclosed a quote from my favorite authors:
“Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of life much so. Aim above morality.”
-Henry David Thoreau
I sighed. She’d left out the last part of the quote, the “Be not simply good; be good for something.”
I pulled out my phone and sent her an email:
Subject: Coffee.
I think I will try some coffee…Are you still at the coffee shop?
—Liam
Subject: Re: Coffee.
Yes. I think I’ll be here all night.
What kind would you like?
—Ava.
Subject: Re: Re: Coffee.
Whatever you think is best for a first timer…
Have you talked to Kevin today?
—Ava
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Coffee.
Not at all. He’s been weirder than usual lately. (We really need to find him a girlfriend…) Have you?
—Ava.
I didn’t answer.
I left my office and walked over to Emma’s playroom, looking at her as she slept peacefully. I wanted to make her wake up, make her look at me, so I could study her features and pick them apart, so I could see for myself that she was indeed Kevin’s, but I couldn’t.
She was mine, biological father or not.
I carried her out of the firm and rushed home. As soon as I set her down, I flipped over the coffee table and opened the envelope I’d filed away hours earlier.
It was a standard summons, a demand to appear in court, but the charges listed didn’t end on one page. They didn’t even end on two.
It was a ten page manifesto, a laundry list of bullshit that I would never attempt: bribery, racketeering, tax fraud, mail fraud, wire fraud—every fucking fraud.
What the hell is this?
I pored over the documents for hours, my mind racing a mile a minute. Still, I couldn’t completely process everything—my mind was still thinking about Kevin and Ava.
How she’d lied to me.
How he’d lied to me, too.
And now, this.
The door opened at five in the morning, and Ava set a hot cup of coffee in front of me.
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