Not only has he been out of the picture for the last five of Nathan’s seven years of life, but he has a nasty history with both alcohol and the Vancouver Police Department. He and his team of low-ball lawyers claim he’s been sober for a year, watching his son on the sidelines as he attended AA and cleaned his life up. Obviously, I don’t buy it, and neither does Lydia.
I’ve been working for the last few months to build a solid case against Kevin that will put an end to his upward climb toward guardianship, but there have been several roadblocks. Pitiful attempts at painting Lydia out to be some evil villain have become far too expected.
A photograph taken years ago and a most likely forced statement from an ex-girlfriend who I haven’t heard of until right this moment are a Hail Mary to sway the judge before court next week. That is, if they can’t scare Lydia into dropping the case.
I yank my car door open and slide inside, feeling the expensive leather moulding to my back as I repeat my question. “Have you responded to his email?”
“No. No, Aubrey. I haven’t,” she answers heavily.
“Good. What I want you to do now is forward me that email so that I can take care of this. You aren’t to make contact at all. Do you understand me?”
Turning my car on, I listen as my phone connects to our call. Her reply floods through the speakers while I pull out of the parking lot, heading toward the office.
“I understand.” A pause. “I was only twenty in that photo. You have to believe that I haven’t even thought about taking a drink or going out to a party since I took Nathan in.”
Anger pulses through me as I strain to keep from lashing out. My frustration isn’t toward her. Not at all. This is between me and Kevin’s lawyer.
“His team can submit the affidavit, Lydia, but the judge will not give it a moment of thought in the next hearing. This is clearly a smear piece meant to intimidate you. I’m on my way to the office right now. If they still choose to submit this, I’ll file a rebuttal immediately. I don’t know where Kevin found this legal team, but they’re going to rue the day they took this case by the time I’m done with them. I’m serious, Lydia. I don’t want you to make yourself sick over this. Take a moment to clear your head and go sit with your nephew for a while.”
Family law isn’t for the weak. In the three years since I graduated from law school, I’ve seen plenty of bloodbaths. Not all of them took place in a courtroom. Far more of the messes occur outside of a courtroom, and everyone involved has a war wound and a horror story to tell.
These ruthless fights made me choose this specialty, which convinced Rowena to take me under her wing when I was just a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed little law graduate with an unnervingdesire to climb the ranks. It took blood, sweat, and far worse than tears to get to this point, as the youngest junior partner the firm has had in the last fifteen years. Not even Rowena, who made name partner at thirty-seven, did that.
At twenty-seven years old, I have an insatiable hunger to see my name on that wall beside hers.
Lydia blows out a soft breath, and I can imagine her nodding, finally taking a seat wherever she is. “Will you call as soon as you figure out what’s happening?”
“You have my word.”
“Thank you, Aubrey.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Save that for tomorrow when I have better news.”
A small, low laugh. “I will. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for calling like this. I just . . .”
“Don’t. That’s why I’m here. I’m on your team, and I’m going to do everything I can to win this for you.”
“I know. I don’t know how to tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“Start by giving your nephew a kiss for me, okay? He needs to feel secure right now more than ever. This is all for him. Remind yourself of that, because it’s the only thing that matters,” I say as softly as I can.
“You’re right. I know. I’ve got this.”
“Yes, you do. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I hang up and release the yell that’s been burning in my lungs, letting it fill the interior of the car like an angry windstorm. The light in front of me is red, and I pull my hair over my shoulder, regretting not putting it up earlier. While the streets are empty, the parking garage below the office isn’t. I recognize Victor Eldridge’s Porsche and scowl, not in the mood to answer his prodding questions nor battle his icy demeanour tonight.
Why are you here at this hour, Ms. Merrick? Rowena isn’t here, Ms. Merrick. Are you sure you need this specific office?
Okay, he’s never asked me the last question. He’s debated it, though. I know he has. If it were up to him, Rowena wouldn’t have taken me on at all. I blame his evil minion for that opinion, though. It’s the only explanation I’ll accept for why he doesn’t like me when I work three times as hard as anyone else in the office besides him and the other two name partners.
I steel myself and step out of my car, letting all of that slip out of my head. There’s only one thing that matters tonight, and that’s making sure I take care of this smear campaign before it can fester.
This is what I’m good at. And I’m about to remind Kevin’s counsel exactly why I am where I am.
Whether or not they’re ready.
2
