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I narrow my eyes and point my chopsticks at him. “Do you have an issue with me? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he mutters. “You were going to explain the position I’m in.”

I look up to the ceiling asking for a God—who I just recently found out isn't real—to give me patience.

“Here it is, Mr. Kim—you’re fucked. Sideways. Up and down. All around. Fucked.” I pause to take another bite before I continue my explanation. “You are being charged with violating not one or two, but three rules. All of which make sense. Am I still going to file a motion to try to get at least one dismissed? Definitely. Will it work? Not a fat chance in hell. Besides all of that, there are witnesses and direct evidence to show that you did indeed assign the wrong person death and by doing that, collected the wrong soul.”

He clenches his jaw. “When are you getting to the part where you actually do something of value as my lawyer and get me out of this.”

I wave my chopsticks in the air and shake my head. “The legal field is like chess. The attorneys are on opposite sides of the board. While we are moving our own pieces, we are studying our opponent. The arraignment showed me Chris’ opening moves. It was aggressive and tactical. Therefore, it is not smart for me to attack head on, especially with jack shit.”

I pause, examining his blank face. I guess he’s not a chess player. “In other words, I’m not getting you out of anything with all this evidence stacked against you. I’m trying to get you through it. Chris can only really prove negligence. My best defense right now is to attack their evidence against you and point out the flaw in the system itself. I am hoping, by showing the flaw in the system, they will lessen your punishment or dismiss it.”

He gives me a once over and shakes his head, disappointment written all over his face. “I should’ve hired a different lawyer.”

“You should’ve. Cause then I wouldn’t have to deal with your constant complaining,” I snap. I finish my last piece of sushi and push my plate away from me.

Aiden runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

“I understand that.” I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. “Going forward, I will send you email updates of your case so that you can stay informed. But I only need one thing from you and that is to trust me.”

“How could you understand me? Have you ever had something happen that could possibly ruin everything you worked for?”

“It didn’t possibly ruin everything I worked for. It did ruin everything,” I snarl. He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks. I know he made assumptions and ran with it, but I don’t owe him an explanation.

He looks taken aback by my statement. “What happened?”

I’m honestly glad that information on souls is limited depending on which department the reaper works for. It would be annoying for Aiden to know everything about me. He would probably look at me with pity.

I shake my head. “I don’t talk about it. Ever. Plus, you’re the last person I would confide in about it.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. “Fair.”

“So, do you trust me to handle your case?” I ask. This won’t work unless he trusts me.

We stare at each other. I don’t know how much time passes before he replies, “Yes. I do.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Good. Now get out. I have some work to do.” I look down to my notes, effectively dismissing him.

Aiden lets out a chuckle as he stands. He gathers the plate and walks into my kitchen, where I hear him quickly rinse the dishes. After a couple of minutes, he comes out of the kitchen and looks at me.

“I’m going home now. Call me if you need anything…” he pauses, then says, “… actually, don’t need anything.” Before I can reply, he is out the door. I let out a soft chuckle.

He really can’t help himself.

10

YOU HAD ONE JOB. LITERALLY.

I gasp and shoot straight up into a sitting position in bed. I lay my hand on my chest, feeling my heart pounding. It's the same nightmare I always have. I take some deep breaths and glance at the clock. It’s 6:55 a.m. My alarm is set for 7:00 a.m.

I think one of the worst things in life—I am not sure if that’s the proper word to use, considering I’m dead—is waking up slightly before your alarm is supposed to go off. That is five more minutes of sleep I could’ve had. But alas, if I go back to sleep, I would wake up at lunch-time and to an angry Aiden.

Tossing off my cover, I climb out of the bed and to my bathroom. I shower, letting the warm water wake me up, and get ready for the day. I choose an emerald-colored suit with nude heels. Too lazy to do my hair, I do not undo my twist out. I just oil my scalp and fix my edges. I quickly do some light make-up, as I refuse to leave this apartment if my eyebrows are not perfectly done.

I head out the door and towards the elevator. It’s a couple of days after sharing sushi with Aiden, and I am still trying to build a solid defense. It’s hard to do that when I have crumbs for evidence. Luckily, the first day of court is not until next week. Therefore, I will have had about two weeks total to prepare.

Waiting by the elevator, Aiden is leaning on the wall holding a cup in each hand.