Page 34 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

One because he’s dead, and the other because he’s alive, and I have no one else to turn to.

I draw a straight line from Brandon and put a question mark next to Michael’s name.

I tap the blunt end of the marker to my chin, thinking. “What do I know about Brandon?”

I know that he has an older sister who lives halfway across the world and whom he barely speaks to. I know that his mom is married to someone else—she left them when Brandon was six.

His father is dead. Besides me, I did not know about any of his friends. Only colleagues and Brandon constantly maintained that his colleagues weren’t his friends, so they weren’t allowed into his personal life.

Then Alice. Alice knew Brandon well enough to be considered a friend.

Did she…kill him?

I wouldn’t put it past her. A close friend who slept with her best friend’s fiancé for a year because she thought he was going to leave the friend.

Betrayal of the worst kind. She seems capable of almost anything.

“Why is Brandon’s name there?”

My head turns around.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” I yell when I see that the intruder is Alice, the person I was bitching about seconds earlier.

“I came to talk to you. That’s all. Nothing else. I just came to talk.” She says gently trying to calm me down.

I don’t know where she gets the idea that I want to talk to her, but I drop the marker and cross my arms.

“Well, I don’t have anything to say to you. I don’t want to have anything to do with you, Alice, so if you don’t mind please leave.”

“You’re trying to figure out who killed Brandon, right? I knew you would when you looked at me like that the other day.”

I sigh in exasperation. “Look, there’s nothing between us, Alice. If anything, you did this to yourself.”

“As far as I am concerned I never need to talk to you or spend any more time with you, ever.”

I turn away and begin cleaning the board with my hand, furious at myself for getting so engrossed that I didn’t see her come in. I imagine Michael seated in my chair, watching the whole thing.

He’d say something like,

“It’s not about being a lawyer, Savannah. It’s something you need to know. That’s all.”

In that tone of his, that tells you he thinks he is always right. Which can be annoying and comforting at the same time.

When, after a couple of minutes, I see that Alice hasn’t left, I turn to her with a mocking sneer.

“You sure are tenacious; I’ll give that to you. Believing that Brandon would leave me for you, and then that I would forgive you afterward. That’s messed up.”

“I’ve been to the station—several times. I’m trying to find out what they have on the case, but they’ve told me nothing. I get that it’s because I’m not related to Brandon. What about you?” She asks.

What about me?

“I’m sure they said the same thing too. And I know you must feel terrible,” she says. “So, I can help you find out who killed him.”

What? How?

I want to scream in her face, but the tears that roll down her cheeks keep the words from coming out. I realize, watching Alice, that even though she betrayed me, I cannot hate her as much as I want to.

It doesn’t mean I forgive her though.

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