Page 185 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
A few days later, we’re sitting in the team’s legal offices. The conference room feels like a tomb as the lawyers lay out everything. Financial documents, bank records, email threads showing the systematic way Darla isolated Hunter from other advisors.
The scope is staggering. Not just the money she stole, but the forged documents, the shell companies, the way she manipulated a teenager who trusted her. There is a lot of proof that she tried to do the same with Jett and Silas, too.
“The evidence is substantial.” Marilyn Adams, the team’s lead attorney, smiles grimly. “We can file for a restraining order immediately. The criminal charges will take longer to process, but given the dollar amounts involved...”
“She could go to prison.” Hunter’s voice is flat.
“She could, yes. If that’s what you want to pursue.”
Hunter stares at the papers in front of him, at the proof of his mother’s betrayal laid out in black and white. It’s a number north of two million dollars.
“I want to move forward with both the restraining order and the criminal charges. My mom threatened Juliet. She can’t just be out there, allowed to roam free, plotting ways to hurt us.”
“I think that’s a wise decision.” Marilyn clasps her hands. “Of course, we don’t have discretion over criminal charges. We’ll take our evidence to the district attorney, and they will make up their own minds. But I think we have a powerful case.” Her eyes twinkle. “And the team has always bankrolled the DA’s election ambitions. I’ll work that into the conversation if I need to.”
“Thank you so much,” I say. I look at Hunter, who looks haunted. “Obviously, Hunter is making a really tough decision here, but I’m sure he’s thankful to you, too.”
“Don’t thank me.” Her smile is sharp enough to cut. “I live for this stuff.”
Hunter grunts, standing. “Let us know if you need anything.”
I grab his hand, lacing our fingers together as we exit. We’re making steps. Big, decisive steps. And it feels momentous.
In the car afterward, Hunter is quiet for a long time.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I will be. This is the right thing to do.”
“Even if it means she goes to prison?”
“Especially if it means she goes to prison. Maybe that’s what it takes for her to understand that actions have consequences.”
He reaches over and takes my hand.
“Thank you for being there today. For handling her at the game. I’m blown away that you haven’t run for the hills yet.”
“Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know. But I’m grateful you are here anyway.”
I put my hand on his leg, content, as he pulls out of the parking lot.
* * *
That afternoon, Jimbo Greene surprises me by showing up in the PR offices. I glance up and am quite startled by his sudden appearance.
“Oh! Mr. Greene!” I shove myself up as I shut the laptop I was gazing at. “I didn’t know you would be here today.”
“Please.” His eyes twinkle and he waves me down. “Call me Jimbo.”
I clear my throat. “Sure, Mr. Greene. I mean… Jimbo. What can I do for you?”
“Outstanding work this season, Juliet,” he says. “Hunter’s transformation has been remarkable. A lot of that credit goes to you.”
My stomach twists at the public praise. I’ve never been comfortable in the spotlight, preferring to work behind the scenes.
“Thank you, sir. Hunter’s done all the hard work himself.”
