“He lied abouteverything,” I add, my tone dropping.
“Oh, Scarlett, come on. He lied about hisjob. He couldn’t tell you.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending him.” I grab my stack of books and shove them onto the nearest shelf. Is she really so in love with romance that she’d turn a blind eye to something like this? “You know what? I’m done with shopping. Let’s go home.”
“Scarlett…”
But I’m already out the door.
I knock on the door to Steve’s office, and once he invites me in, I enter and close the door behind me. The smell of pastrami and mustard lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of coffee and paper. “Thank you so much for seeing me, Steve.”
He waves me off, salt-and-pepper hair and a friendly smile softening the otherwise angular lines of his face. “It sounded urgent, and your mom was one of the good ones. Whatever I can do to help.”
He balls up a napkin and aims for the trash can, but he misses, and the napkin bounces onto the floor, settling in the messy corner of his cluttered office.
“Thank you.” I sit down in the worn chair across from his desk, which squeaks under my weight. “My brother showed up at my door last night, and…” I trail off. And a lot of other stuff has happened since—so much, in fact, that I almost forgot the appointment I set with Steve, Willowbrook’s favorite lawyer. “You’ve read the files, right? Please give me good news.”
He straightens, wiping his hands before pulling a folder from the top of a precarious stack. His brow furrows as he flips through it, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. “Well, let’s see,” he says, pen poised above a notepad. “It sounds like we’ll have to get creative.” Noticing my expression, he explains, “You already know that under the terms of the will, your parents gave your grandparents custody of Ethan. Under normal circumstances, I’d bring this to a judge, say that the situation has obviously changed.”
Right.Everything’s changed.
He pauses. “I would tell you that we should go after them for custody or get Ethan emancipated. Paperwork, hearings, and, depending on how cooperative your grandparents are, possibly mediation or even a full trial.”
God, I feel queasy.
“But you’renottelling me this?”
“No. Because it’d take months, if not years.”
Months, years.We don’t have that.“So… so what’s the solution?”
His eyes narrow slightly. “An emergency hearing. Much quicker but much more difficult to win, because we’ll need to prove beyond a doubt that your brother is in immediate danger.”
“Danger?” I hesitate, my throat tightening. I don’t think Virginia can be considered “dangerous.”
“Danger. So…” He clears his throat and watches me attentively. “Besides his reluctance, do we have anything concrete that proves this move isnotthe best choice for him?”
I bite my lip, mind reeling. “His mental health,” I say, thinking of his struggles at school. “Taking him away from everything he knows—from me—is only going to make things worse.”
Steve’s pen taps against the desk, a steady rhythm that mirrors the pounding in my chest. “Great. How do we prove that, though?”
I relate most of what Ethan told me, and Steve listens, his expression measured. “I won’t sugarcoat it, it’s not going to be easy, and we want no surprises, so if there’sanythingI need to know, this is the moment to bring it up.”
I shake my head, thankful for once that I have the most boring life ever.
“Good. Then we need to build the strongest case we can, and fast.”
“Got it,” I say with a decisive nod. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Steve offers me a small, encouraging smile. “We’re going to war, Scarlett,” he says. “Be prepared.”
The room feels heavier, the faint shadows cast by the desk lamp creeping across the walls. I inhale deeply, letting it all settle over me.
“I will be.”
the whodunit[trope]
a tantalizing puzzle wrapped in deception, where everyone’s a suspect and trust is a dangerous game; expect red herrings, dramatic gasps, and at least one overly confident detective jumping to the wrong conclusion
