Path To Realization (Fighter's Den, #4)

Chapter 8 - Aria

PRESENT

There is good and bad in everything you do. The thing about life is that you can't have one without the other. How can we know what it means for something to be good if we haven't experienced the bad? How can we know what it means for something to be bad if we haven't experienced the good? The two co-exist in everything you do or say and it's an essential part of life. I get that — appreciate it even.

Right now, though? Not so much.

I know I'm not perfect and I can't possibly win every case I put my heart into but I really hate losing. It means failing the women who entrusted me to protect them when the rest of the world failed to. It means they won't get their redemption or make their peace and I played a hand in that. Being a lawyer is not for the faint of heart. You need to be firm, edgy, and confident at all times. You need to keep your head up and come back stronger when the court works against you. You need to be absolutely lethal.

In a way, becoming a lawyer healed me. It brought out the toughest parts of me I didn't even know existed until I had to present them in court. I learned that I still have the feisty and competitive streak I used to have pre-abusive relationship. Becoming a lawyer showed me I'm still as strong as I once was and that I'm capable of lending my strength to others. That's why, despite losing this case and my client panicking, I keep my face set like stone and don't give any of these fuckers the satisfaction of breaking down like I want to. I can save that for later.

"Your honour." I try again. We've already taken two recesses and I know this case is coming to a close. I just wish it were working in our favour. "My client and I have brought forth tangible evidence to support her claims of abuse. The chain of threatening texts, the hospital records of monthly admittance, and the very prominent injuries on Mrs. Scott all lead to an obvious conclusion."

"And we have supporting evidence to explain all of that." My enemy of the hour, Martin Reese, announces. I glare at him from the corner of my eye. He knows as well as I do that this poor woman is being abused by her soon to be ex-husband. Why the fuck is he defending that scumbag? Just because of a nice big pay check? What a fucking lowlife.

Martin presents a series of papers to the judge. "You'll see here the receipts Mr. Scott has from payments to a technician to track down his phone. It went missing during the same time and date that Mrs. Scott received the threatening texts allegedly from her husband. Someone else had my client's phone at the time and was obviously sending mindless texts. There is no evidence showcasing that the texts were sent by Mr. Scott himself simply because his phone was not in his possession at the time. As for the injuries and hospital admittances, Mrs. Scott is prone to a less than stellar balance ever since her leg injury from her marathoning days. Over here is a hospital record of when she fractured both her legs and this was before the couple had even met. Simply put, none of this evidence directly points to my client."

I clench my fists tightly. Fucking liars. I know a fake document when I see one and these two would be in jail for life if they were caught but I have no way to prove it. And yeah, Carol did injure herself badly and still walks with a limp but that's a total coincidence that's playing into their hands right now.

"The jury and myself will now take a short recess to come to a final ruling." The judge bangs his gavel and stands to leave.

Martin side-glances me and if I didn't know any better, I'd say the fucker is smirking. I almost shake with anger. He's just as bad as his client for protecting him.

"I knew I shouldn't have taken this to court." Carol whispers next to me, quietly crying into her hand.

My heart sinks with so much guilt, I can't stand upright anymore. I take my seat next to her and squeeze her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Carol. I'm giving it my all."