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“I did it to uphold justice, to make a difference, to help people.”
“Well, Rivera’s a person, too. You’re an attorney, dammit. Every human being has a constitutional right to one, guilty or not. I didn’t ask you get to get him off. He was a lost cause. There was a witness and a lot of damning evidence. But was it really necessary for you to share information about the case with the prosecutor in charge of it?” he questions.
“I am required to share evidence with the prosecution.”
“Really? Information protected by attorney-client privilege?”
“I didn’t think I would get caught!” I yell.
Ryder’s right eye twitches.
“Yeah, I’m done, Christine. I can’t do this anymore,” he says in defeat before falling back onto the chair.
“Ryder, please. I promise it won’t happen again,” I start.
“I don’t think so. What happens if you have to defend a murderer, huh? A rapist? Would you be able to do so and give it your all without feeling guilty and wanting to do what’s right?” Ryder questions.
I bite my bottom lip but don’t reply. He already knows the answer to that question.
Ryder sighs. “Every attorney is faced with this dilemma, Chris. We all go through this, and we try our best to do our fucking jobs. When you do shit like this, it’s pretty clear you don’t have what it takes.”
I clench my fists.
“I do have what it takes,” I say quietly.
“Think about a career change, Christine. Become an activist, a philanthropist. I get your need to help people, but it seems like being a criminal defense lawyer just isn’t for you.”
“You’re still firing me?” I ask.
He nods grimly.
“I’m sorry, Chris, but there’s nothing I can do. Higher-ups are furious. Rivera was a major investor in the firm. You’re lucky I was able to convince him not to report you for misconduct. He wanted to see you disbarred.”
I nod repeatedly. I suppose I do have that to be grateful for. I don’t regret what I did. It just sucks I got caught.
“It’s okay. I know you did all you could. You’re right, maybe I’m not cut out to be an attorney. I’ll leave.”
“I’m really sorry, Christine.”
I give him a shaky smile before walking out of the office. I enter the elevator in a daze and head down to my office on the third floor. A part of me registers the dirty looks some of my co-workers throw my way. They’ve never really liked me. I’m too brash, too loud, too bold. I’ve never belonged with any of them, and now I have to leave.
Oh God, Noah. What am I going to do about Noah?
“Heard you finally got cut.”
I look up and glare at Richard Clemmins. He made partner a few months ago and has been insufferable ever since. He’s a dick, as the name implies, with an inflated ego. I wish I could wipe the smug smile off his face.
“Richard. Leave,” I say dismissively.
He chuckles, stepping closer and standing in front of my desk.
“It was only a matter of time, Tiny,” he replies with a chuckle.
I grit my teeth and count to ten in my mind, lest I scream at him and chuck a stapler at his head. I’m not small or short in any sense, so the nickname doesn’t allude to that. The asshole shortened Christine to Tiny for some inexplicably annoying reason.
“Seriously, you don’t go leaking confidential information about your clients and not expect to face the music,” he continues.
“I will maim you,” I threaten.
