Page 57 of Bedtime Stories
The other, uglier half crawls through the facts with a flashlight, searching for motive: had he seen me with Oren and decided, petty and precise, to pick the one man who’d actually protect him so he could rattle my cage?
Jealousy as a legal strategy. It sounds ridiculous until the timing snaps into place in my head—late-night texts to Oren, thesudden membership interest, because Adiel had gotten back to me confirming Vince had applied at the club. If it was targeted, it wasn’t just about retribution for a breakup. It was a way to get under my skin by hurting the one person who mattered to me. And hurting Oren in the process. Two birds with one stone.
Either way, it changes the calculus. This isn’t a run-of-the-mill retainer. It’s personal. And that means I can’t treat it like any other file.
It takes a Herculean amount of self-control to keep from defending Oren as Vince falsely accuses him of one lie after another. I end the call before I lose it completely, my jaw tight.
Immediately, I dial Oren. He picks up after a couple of rings, his voice bright but guarded.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey,” I say, forcing warmth into my tone. “You’ve been ignoring texts again?”
A pause. “…Yeah. I just… didn’t want to deal with stuff today.”
‘Stuff’ meaning Vince. My heart twists.
“It’s okay. I’m here now. Can you tell me where you are?”
“On the couch watching cartoons with my blanket.”
His voice cracks slightly, and I want nothing more than to scoop him into my arms right through the phone.
I guide him gently through the practical steps again: check your messages, screenshots, lock down your accounts, keep friends updated. His attention is on me now; he’s taking it seriously. I can feel the tension in him slowly loosening as I reassure him.
Later, in the quiet of my office, I pace. Papers are stacked neatly, case files open, but my mind is half on Vince and half on Oren. I make a mental plan. If I represent Vince, I need to control the narrative, protect Oren, and keep my head. If Istep away… I’m just handing Vince the keys to unsettle my boy however he wants. Both options feel like a trap.
I run a hand over my face, loosening my tie. Oren’s little face flashes in my mind, bright and trusting, the flashlight still clutched in his hands at camp. I’d move heaven and earth to keep him shielded, but the thought of the storm Vince could wreak makes my chest tight in a way I haven’t felt in years.
I make my decision silently, at least for now. I’m staying on Vince’s case. Not for him, not for myself, but for Oren. I owe him that much. It’s a conflict of interest, for sure, but I don’t intend for Vince’s case to ever see the inside of a courtroom.
