Page 91 of Dirty Judge

“Maybe I mixed it up with another overturned case.”

“Which ones?”

“You should focus on dinner,” I said. “We can talk about Grant Jenkins later.”

“I’d rather discuss him now.” She shook her head. “Did you pay those jurors to vote guilty?”

I hesitated.

For the first time in years, I had to think before answering.

“Two jurors isn’t enough to get a guilty verdict, Olivia,” I said. “It takes twelve.”

“And you paid off twelve random people’s mortgages,” she said. “One by one, a few months apart—all from different offshore accounts so it wouldn’t look suspicious.”

How the fuck do you know this?

I didn’t dare ask that question aloud.

Instead, I narrowed my eyes at her.

“So now you’re a conspiracy theorist?” I asked. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I just want to know why,” she said. “Why would you ever put your entire career on the line for a guy you barely even know? For a verdict that wouldn’t affect you in the slightest?”

“You’re clearly still suffering from the flu.”

“I never had the flu.” Her voice cracked. “I got sick at the thought ofyou.”

“Excuse me?”

“You ruined that guy’s life for no reason.” She hissed. “You let him sit and suffer behind bars for years, forNo. Fucking. Reason.”

“Second-degree murder is a very good reason…”

“What other verdicts have you paid for?” she asked. “What other lives have you ruined, just because you can?”

“Olivia…”

“I mean, I’ve personally experienced what you can do to someone over minor traffic tickets?—”

“Your tickets were not minor.” I gritted my teeth.

“But now I’m wondering,” she continued, “what could you do to someone you just want to punish just because you hate what they allegedly did? How many times have you done it, and how long have you gotten away with this?”

“You should go home.” I glared at her. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“I won’t be at work ever again,” she said, standing to her feet. “I came here to tell you we’re done, and I’m moving on.”

“Stop being dramatic, Olivia.” I stepped closer. “Sit down.”

“No.” She stepped back. “I’m going to take some time and decide whether I want to call in a tip on the dirtiest judge case of this century or stay quiet and go to law school.”

“I’d suggest the latter since the judge in question hasn’t done anything wrong.” I paused. “And, regardless of this nonsense you’re talking about, you’re still under contract to work for me until a certain date.”

“So, you’re threatening to sue me if I quit?”

“I’m promising to.”