Page 111 of Choosing Us

Graham waves his hand or tries to until the cuffs prevent his movement. The sound causes another crack in the illusion of Graham’s control.

“If one is willing to put in the effort, it is theoretically possible to find beauty in most things, even something common, I suppose, despite what my mother believed. If you take something mundane and typical, but then add intentional details, hypothetically, it could enhance the beauty.”

“Like a common flower in a vase would be more beautiful than the common flower on its own?” Tara supplies.

Graham hums in agreement. “Exactly. It’s still a common flower, but the details matter.”

“Speaking of details, Dr. Lane told me one about you just this morning. She suspects it matters quite a bit, and I have to admit, like usual, I think she’s on to something,” I comment as Tara leans back in her chair, letting me push the conversation closer to Graham’s breaking point.

“I love how her brain works. I can’t wait to hear her latest hypothesis. Go on now, do tell.” Graham’s eyes dance with delight as though I am going to tell him she said something complimentary about the man.

“I’d love your insight first before I share her thoughts, although I have to admit, I do agree with her hypothesis. Dr. Tremblay, in your professional opinion, do you think it’s plausible that your actions actually have everything to do with one individual?”

His head rears back as his eyes dart around the room. “My actions?”

“Dr. Tremblay, as your attorney, I'm advising you not to respond to that question. Anything you say here can be used as evidence against you in a court of law,” Graham’s attorney injects for the second time, but Graham immediately dismisses him.

“Stop interrupting our discussion, Daniel. I thought you were the best.”

His attorney huffs in frustration. “I am, but you need to be aware of your rights, and⁠—”

“Who exactly are you referring to, Mr. Bennett?” Graham cuts his attorney off and locks his gaze on mine. He’s trying to be intimidating, but his efforts are falling marvelously short.

“It’s actually Special Agent Bennett. Like you said, the details matter, right?” His nostrils flare as his hands clench tight enough that his knuckles go white. “In this case, she is the critic you can never impress, and a brilliant woman who was less than impressed with you.”

Graham slams his fist down on the table, losing his composure, but keeping his voice steady. “That is not true! Harlow is very impressed with me!”

“I’m not speaking about Dr. Lane,” I calmly reply, as I pick up my manilla folder of documents and photographs, leafing through them for one specific image. “I’m talking about your mother, Dr. Stephanie Tremblay.” I set down a photo of his mother that was featured in a magazine after she won an international award.

Graham quickly lifts his gaze away from the photograph and narrows his eyes at me. “My mother has nothing to do with Harlow or this conversation.”

Graham’s attorney leans forward, holding his hand between his client and us. “Dr. Tremblay, please, defer to me⁠—”

“Daniel. Do I need to fire you? Shut. Up!” Graham yells at his attorney, raising his voice for the first time.

“Your mother didn’t have any documented mobility issues; she was only fifty-two years old and was an avid runner, right?” The metallic links of his handcuffs clash against the table as he reaches over and tugs at the cuff of his sweatshirt, as though to straighten it under the handcuff. He squares his shoulders and lifts his head slightly before meeting my gaze again before I continue on. “This morning, Dr. Lane relayed a very interesting comment that you made yesterday. Dr. Tremblay, do you realize you said something to Ryan about how your mother never thought you’d push back, but you got the last laugh?”

Graham shakes his head slightly. “What does that have to do with anything? He doesn’t matter. He’s nothing.”

“Well, here’s the thing, Graham.” I purposefully use his first name instead of his title because it’s time to shake this interview up. I pull the photos from the folder of Dr. Stephanie Tremblay’s death, displaying his mother’s body at the bottom of a flight of stairs in her home, surrounded by a shattered vase of flowers suspected to have been in her hands but was discovered under her body. “It matters quite a bit if you pushed your mother to her death.”

Graham’s face reddens with rage, but before he can fully explode, his attorney interrupts, “We’re done here! This is ridiculous, my client will not sit here⁠—”

His words are drowned in a feral bellow of frustration as Graham tries to move freely, despite being shackled to the table, the clink of metal chains adding to his growing frustration. “No! No, no, Harlow didn’t know my mother. She shouldn’t have even been speaking about her. Harlow is the opposite of everything my mother was. Harlow sees me for who and what I am.”

“Exceptional. You want Dr. Lane to think you’re exceptional,” I push.

Graham grits his teeth as he scowls. “I don’t have to want it—I already know she thinks I’m exceptional.”

I shake my head slowly. “That may have been what you told yourself, but that’s not what she told me.”

“Bullshit! If it weren’t for the obstacles in our way, we would have been together a long time ago.” His fists bang the table so loud it causes his attorney to jump, but I saw the outburst simmering just below his façade of control. I lift a hand to the viewing window, letting anyone watching to know that we are good in here and don’t need assistance.

“What obstacles?” I ask.

“No, you don’t understand our relationship.” He avoids my questions as he rambles on. “There’s no way you can understand the complexities of what Harlow and I have together.”

“What you have, or what you wish you could have? Sounds like you and Harlow saw things differently. I think the reality is that you don’t actually know her, Dr. Tremblay.” I push.