Page 5 of The Defense Rests
"That's a pretty fancy dress. Where is she going?" I ask because I am now intrigued by his imagination.
"Her go to a pawty."
"That sounds like a lot of fun. Do you like parties?" I ask.
Ben nods, and his blue eyes go wide. "I love pawties. Specially ones wit prezzies."
I let out a bark of laughter. "Those are the best kind."
"Ben! Ben! Over here. It's story time." A little girl with braids calls out to Ben, and he pushes his chair back. When he stands, he looks down at me hesitantly—teeth biting on his lower lip.
"Shaund," the added 'd' to my name kills me, and I bite back a smile. "You come too? Peas."
How can I say no to this sweet boy? "I'd love to join you for story time." I take Ben's hand, and he tries to lift me up out of the chair. Standing next to him, he's at least a foot shorter than my six feet, and he guides me over to the carpet for reading time. His size reminds me of the barista back home–Caleb. He and Barrett have invited me over for dinner a few times, and we've also had some playdates with other members of the community.
During the first story, when the knight and prince fight the dragon together, Ben crawls into my lap but doesn't take his eyes off the narrator. I don't even think he realized he did it. The narrator's voice is theatrical, and Ben buries his face in my chest as the dragon breathes fire at the prince. I wrap my arms around this sweet boy instinctively and offer him a comforting squeeze while giving him a kiss on the top of his head. Ben lets out a soft sigh.
By the end of the second book, something about a dinosaur going to the dentist, Ben has drifted off. I slowly stand, carrying him easily over to one of the mats. Poor guy is exhausted. Grabbing a nearby unicorn stuffed toy, I tuck it under his arm and brush his blond curls from his forehead before leaning back against the wall to watch over him.
"I see you met Ben," Amber whispers as she takes the empty space on the floor next to me.
"He seems very sweet," I tell her while keeping my voice low.
"The sweetest. Ben had it rough growing up, and I'm surprised he turned out so sweet. Most kids aren't as resilient and grow up angry with the cards they were dealt. He told me once that he didn’t want to be a product of circumstance." She states with a hint of pride in her voice.
"Was he living in the shelter?"
"Yes. He moved out a year ago. Got a job, finished his GED, and even has a small apartment. He's an amazing kid. Glad you two connected tonight. He needed a strong daddy to give him a little attention." She offers me a wink. "In fact, I think you both needed each other tonight."
Wasn't that the truth. I offer Amber a small smile before looking back down at Ben.
I have to admit, my daddy heart is the happiest it's been in a while, and the stress of the lawsuit all of a sudden doesn't seem so important. It may be time I put the past behind me and find a new little. Perhaps one who enjoys building paper dolls?
Three
Kai
The incessant beeping of my alarm is in sync with the harsh, unforgiving morning light as it slices through the bedroom blinds. I really should invest in some blackout curtains. Crawling out of bed after turning off the phone's alarm, I'm reminded of why I didn't sleep much last night–the oversized coffee cup on the nightstand, scattered files across the floor, and the discarded picture of Shaun next to me in bed. It's a stark reminder of the impossible choice I need to make. A battle that isn't in the courtroom but in my mind.
I spent most of last night reviewing witness testimonies, clinical data, and the associated medical jargon. I even called my parents to see if they could clarify some things for me, but they were busy at a medical conference. It took a while for them to accept that I was going into law and not medicine, but Mom seemed happy that they could help me with this case. I'm driving to Rockport Ridge next weekend for dinner and to get their perspective. I just hope I have a week since Malloy was adamant on Shaun settling.
The firm's expectations are a relentless pressure, a constant hum beneath the surface of my turmoil. All the partners are ruthless, and they don't care who they destroy on their way to the top, as long as they win and walk away with big bonuses. Mr. Malloy is the newest partner and has more to prove than theothers. He expects results in this case to be swift and decisive. To him, this case is just another feather in their firm's cap, another win to add to their impressive track record. But to me, it's a personal minefield. A battle between my heart and head, between the man I once thought I was falling in love with and the career I am working so hard to build. If I win this case, it could launch my legal career and open up opportunities for me in other areas of law beyond family law.
I am not ruthless like the other lawyers here at the firm. I want to do what's right and let the law decide people's fate. That's why I became an attorney. I wanted to make a difference, not a fortune.
Traffic is typical for a Monday morning, but it gives me time to stew in my thoughts about Shaun and my ethical dilemma, which is nearly as complex as the medical details of the case itself. The conflict of interest is undeniable, a blatant violation of the very principles I'd sworn to uphold. I am a lawyer, bound by a code of conduct that sets forth a set of ethical guidelines demanding objectivity, impartiality, and a duty of loyalty to my client.Who is Heather…not Shaun. But how can I be objective, how can I be impartial, when my client is suing Shaun, the man who still holds a place in my heart after all these years?
The legal standards require a conflict check, a review that would highlight the ethical dangers of representing my client. This clear and present conflict would render representation all but impossible. I will just have to tell Mr. Malloy to find someone else. Yet the thought of walking away, of abandoning the case altogether, doesn't sit right with me either. It feels as if I'm tossing Shaun to the mercy of the legal system. It feels like a betrayal of sorts.
For the remainder of the drive, my internal monologue goes through a relentless inner debate.
Can I truly separate my personal feelings from my professional duties? The answer eludes me. I'd spent years studying law and building my reputation at the firm. I sacrificed relationships, pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion, all in the pursuit of success. That success, that meticulously crafted reputation, is now threatened by the re-emergence of someone I thought I'd buried six years ago. I am trapped in a paradox, a legal and emotional knot that, once tightened, will be impossible to release.
…
The modern minimalist design of the conference room offers no refuge, no comfort. The sleek lines of the furniture mock my inner turmoil, the muted greys and whites a stark contrast to the vibrant spectrum of emotions raging within me.
As I pace another lap around the room, the thoughts of the countless hours spent studying law and mastering the intricate details of legal procedure come into focus. Iama professional. I've perfected my courtroom strategies, and I've never lost my cool in front of a judge. I've dedicated myself to this profession, to the pursuit of justice, believing in the power of the law to right wrongs.
