The interns in the jury box laughed as Aubrey’s smile faded. Even as she forced it again, I could see a hint of hurt in her eyes.

“So…” She took a deep breath. “Regarding the case—”

“So happy you’re finally getting on topic.”

The jurors laughed again.

“Do you believe in morals, Mr. Hamilton?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you possess them?”

“I think everyone does to a certain extent.”

“Permission to approach the witness?” She looked at Mr. Bach and he nodded.

“Mr. Hamilton, can you read the highlighted portion of this document please?” She placed a sheet of paper in front of me, and I noticed a small handwritten note at the very top of the page:

I fucking hate you and I wish I’d never met you.

“Yes,” I said, taking a pen out of my pocket. “It says that my company was unaware of insurance policy changes at the time.”

As she handed a copy of the document to the jury panel, I wrote a response to her note:

Sorry to see that you regret meeting me, as I don’t regret meeting you—only that I fucked you more than once.

She asked me to read another section to the court, and then she took the paper away—glaring at me once she read my words.

I tried to look away from her, to focus on something else, but the way she looked today prevented that from happening. Her hair wasn’t up in her signature bun—it was falling past her shoulders in long curls that grazed her breasts. And the dress she was wearing, a highly inappropriate one that hugged her thighs a little too tightly, rose up an inch every time she took a step.

“I have three more questions for Mr. Hamilton, Your Honor,” she said.

“There’s no limit, Miss Everhart.” He smiled.

“Right…” She stepped forward and looked into my eyes. “Mr. Hamilton, you and your company led your employees to believe that you cared about them, that you had their best interests at heart, and that you would literally communicate the actual changes you would make before termination. Are those promises not directly from your company’s brochure?”

“They are.”

“So, do you believe that you deserve to be fined or punished for giving your employees false hope? For dragging them into a situation you knew you would end all along?”

“I think I did what was in my company’s best interest,” I said—ignoring the fact that my heart was pounding against my chest. “And in the future, as those employees move on like they should, they’ll perhaps realize that my company wasn’t the best fit for them anyway.”

“Don’t you think you owe them a simple apology? Don’t you think you should at least give them that?”

“An apology implies that I did something wrong.” I gritted my teeth. “Just because they don’t agree with what I did, doesn’t mean that I wasn’t right.”

“Do you believe in reasonable doubt, Mr. Hamilton?”

“You said you only had three questions left. Has elementary mathematics changed recently?”

“Do you believe in reasonable doubt, Mr. Hamilton?” Her face reddened. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” I clenched my jaw. “Yes, I believe that’s a common requirement for every single lawyer in this country.”

“So, given the current case that we’re discussing…Do you think that someone like you, someone who treated his employees so terribly, could ever change in the future, now that you know how badly you’ve hurt others’ livelihood?”

“Reasonable doubt is not about feelings, Miss Everhart, and I suggest you consult the closest legal dictionary you can find because I’m pretty sure we’ve had this discussion once before…”

“I don’t recall that, Mr. Hamilton, but—”

“In your own ill-fated yet correct words, didn’t you once tell me—post your first interview here at GBH, that certain lies have to be told and certain truths have to be withheld? And that the ultimate conviction is up to those who can discern which is which?” I looked her up and down. “Is that not the exact definition that you provided for reasonable doubt?”

She stared at me a long time—giving me that same look of hurt she had when I kicked her out of my place.

“No further questions, Your Honor.” She mumbled.

Mr. Greenwood clapped loudly from the back of the room. Mr. Bach and the other interns followed suit.

“Very good job, Miss Everhart!” Mr. Bach shouted. “That was a very direct yet compelling line of questioning.”

“Thank you sir.” She avoided looking at me.

“You are officially the first intern to get our Andrew all riled up.” He smiled, seemingly impressed. “We definitely need to keep you around. Hell, we may call you in when we need to be reminded that he’s capable of showing emotion.”

More laughter.

“Great job today, everyone!” He leaned back in the judge’s chair. “We’ll go over your presentations later this week and email you the scores next Thursday.” He banged his gavel. “Court adjourned.”

The interns filed out of the room and Aubrey looked over her shoulder one last time, shooting me an angry look.

I shot one right back, grateful that I had a date tonight so I could fuck her and her stupid questions out of my mind.

Seven o’clock can’t get here soon enough…

I waited a few minutes before heading to the elevator and attempted to remember my schedule for the rest of the day. I had two consultations with small business owners this afternoon, and I needed to make a Starbucks run before Aubrey could bring me my next cup of coffee.

I unlocked the door to my office and hit the lights, prepared to call for Jessica, but Ava was standing in front of my bookshelf.

“Is the homeless shelter not open today?” I asked.

“I came here to finally give you what you asked for.”

“It’s a little too early to jump off a bridge.”

“I’m being serious.”

“As am I.” I walked past her and sent a quick text on my phone. “If you jump before noon, the news crew won’t be able to run the story during primetime.”

She stepped in front of my desk and set down a manila folder. “I won’t drag your name through the courts anymore, I won’t file anymore stays or injunctions, and I won’t make any false claims about your character either…I’m done lying now.”

“I’m sure.” I picked up the papers. “In other words, there’s a new guy you’re anxious to fuck over. Does he know the real you?”

“Seriously? You’re getting your precious divorce. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t.” I put on my reading glasses and looked over the documents. “No alimony requests, abuse claims, or demands for property? Am I missing a page?”

“I’m telling you. I’m done lying.”

I didn’t believe her for one second, but I picked up my phone and called the notary, telling her it was an emergency.

“You know…” Ava leaned against my desk. “I remember the cake you bought me for our wedding anniversary. It was white and light blue, and it had all these pretty little NYC decorations on it. It had flavored layers, too. One for every year that we were together. Do you remember that?”

“I remember you fucking my best friend.”

“We can’t have one nice moment before we end things for good?”

“You and I ended a long time ago, Ava.” I tried to keep my voice flat, monotonous. “When something is over, the final words—good or bad, don’t make much of a fucking difference.”

She sighed and I noticed how terrible she looked today. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was frizzy and tied into a loose ponytail, and even though the blue dress she was wearing fit perfectly, she hadn’t made an attempt to iron it.

“What’s this so called emergency you have, Mr. Hamilton?” The notary walked into the room, smiling. “Are you requesting that we purchase another thousand dollar coffee maker?” She stopped talking once she saw Ava.

“Miss Kannan, this is Ava Sanchez, my soon to be ex-wife. I need you to witness the signing of the divorce papers and make three copies—sealing one of them for mailing purposes.”