Page 91 of Filthy Lawyer


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“You need to learn how to count.” He slid a stack of records to me. “Get back to work.”

“Fine.”

We worked on the case until long after midnight. Until his phone rang and that familiar, “Your favorite person is on the line, Mr. Hamilton,” voice came over the speakers.

Without saying a word to me, he smiled at his screen and stood to his feet.

“Be there in fifteen minutes, Autumn.”

He walked to the door. Then he looked over his shoulder. “Did you two ever have sex in my office?”

“Tried to, but you always kept the doors locked.”

“Good to know.” He rolled his eyes, and then he sighed. “Do you remember how we met?”

“Not really.”

“Wow.” He placed a hand against his chest. “I’m quite hurt by that. I thought you loved me.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because after working on Miss Tanner’s things, I think you two are perfect for each other because you suffer from the same issue.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“You used to be…”

FICTITIOUS DEFENDANTS (N.)

WHEN A PARTY SUING (PLAINTIFF) IS NOT SURE IF HE/SHE KNOWS IF THERE ARE UNKNOWN PERSONS INVOLVED IN THE INCIDENT OR THE BUSINESS BEING SUED

DAMIEN

SeveralYears Ago…

Ihated living in Sonny Caps Condos.

The building was falling apart at the seams, and whenever the family upstairs took a bath, the water dripped through my ceiling.

I’d never known my biological mother, but I liked to pretend that she would’ve never let me and my siblings live in a filthy place like this.

She probably wouldn’t let me go to bed hungry, either.

Rolling off my poor excuse for a mattress, I put on my tennis shoes and a jacket. The cafe owner across the street always left a grilled cheese sandwich out for me, and I’d been thinking about it all day.

Opening the door, I came face to face with a wall of smoke.

Assuming my foster mother had accidentally burned something, I raced to the kitchen.

Flames were licking the oven, cracking and hissing from the floor above.

What the…

“Help! Helpppp! Help!” my younger brother Bryan’s voice came from down the hall.

“My bedroom door won’t budge!” My foster mother’s voice came next, and then I heard more screams.

Turning around, I raced toward their side of the apartment, but the fire walls were far too high.

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