Xavier~
"Thank you, Veronica." I extended my hand for a handshake, expressing my happiness. I didn't know the specific reason for her to agree to handle my case, but I was relieved she accepted. At least I had a chance to let her lead my defense. Hope surged within me—perhaps, with her skill, the court could grant me bail.
"Best of luck, Mr. Thompson." Her handshake was firm, her eyes meeting mine with confidence. As her hand touched mine, my heart raced unexpectedly. That touch sparked memories of a past I had long tried to bury, but it also brought feelings of shame.
"How dare you touch me? I never thought you'd take advantage of my drunken state and seduce me into sleeping with you." The memory of my cruel words came rushing back. I could still hear the echo of that cold, bitter tone. When I had woken up next to her, naked in the same bed, rage consumed me.
"No, Xavier, I didn't seduce you. It was you who..." Her words, panicked and terrified, had done little to soothe my fury.
"You're lying. I can't be with someone like you—an uneducated, low-standard woman." I had yanked my hand away from her that morning, disgusted by my mistake. Back then, I had mistaken her for Alicia. But now, as I shook her hand, I realized how far I had fallen and how wrong I had been.
In the past, I only saw her as low-standard, uneducated, and beneath me. I don't even remember the full extent of the venomous insults I threw at her over time, but she had taken them all in silence, only seeking my approval. Once, she hovered around me, eager for a kind word or gesture. Now, everything has changed. I found myself searching her face for any trace of that old Isabella—but there was none.
"Mr. Thompson, you can let go of my hand now." Her voice cut through my thoughts, and she looked irritated by my lingering touch.
"I... I'm sorry, Be...no, Veronica." My mind kept calling her Bella, but I had to remind myself that she was no longer the Isabella I once knew. My heart wanted to cling to the past, but I was standing before a different woman now—stronger, colder, and far more distant than the shy girl who once chased after me. The contrast was jarring, and I found it hard to accept.
Her voice, which had once made me roll my eyes, now held a different kind of power. A commanding presence had replaced that soft tone. Should I tell her how much I regretted everything? Should I tell her that I finally understood the pain she had endured?
"Before we go any further, Mr. Thompson, I want to make something very clear." Her words interrupted my internal struggle. "I took on your case because I found it challenging. My decision has nothing to do with personal feelings. I expect you to keep our past entirely separate from this case."
The way she distanced herself shattered the last bit of hope I held onto for personal closure.
"Alright... Veronica." My tongue still stumbled over her name, instinctively trying to call her Bella. It was strange. I had never called her by that nickname before, but now I couldn't stop myself. The name seemed to represent all the emotions I had ignored for years.
"To make this work, Mr. Thompson, you need to be honest with me from now on. Start by telling me everything—about Alicia, your relationship, and how you got to this point." Her eyes stayed locked on mine, unwavering, waiting for the truth I had avoided for so long.
I nodded, feeling tightness in my chest. How could I explain the twisted path that led me here? Though I had never considered Isabella my true wife, and though I had hurt her in ways I now regret, the reality of my mistakes weighed heavily on me. And now, with everything crumbling, I was hesitant to bring Alicia in.
"Start from where it all began," she urged, her posture firm and businesslike.
I started speaking, my voice low and hesitant at first. I told her about how I met Alicia, how I had fallen for her, how my father had forced me to marry Isabella, and how I had treated her. I confessed to the affair with Alicia and all the bitter regrets I'd carried since. It wasn't easy, but I laid it all out—the story of betrayal, guilt, and loss.
She listened intently, her fingers running through her sleek, dark hair as she absorbed each word.
"As you've described it, it seems clear that Alicia married you for control over your firm. She wanted to separate you from your family." Her voice was as cold and detached as ever, but there was something almost calculating about her expression as she stood and moved around her desk.
"Yes," I admitted, staring at the floor. "I hadn't seen it at the time, but her love blinded me to her true intentions." That's why I betrayed Isabella." Saying it aloud made the weight on my chest heavier.
She remained unmoved.
"This case isn't about your ex-wife, Mr. Thompson. Let's focus on Alicia. I suggest we start by reviewing her phone records. That might give us a lead." She resumed her seat, her sharp eyes studying me closely.
For the first time since our meeting began, I saw a flicker of passion in her eyes—a smile touched the corners of her lips. But it wasn't about me. It wasn't personal. She wasn't doing this for old times' sake. It was about the challenge. The mystery of the case.
Isabella had transformed into a stunning, powerful woman over the years.
Back then, I had been so enamored with Alicia's beauty that I never appreciated Isabella's. But today, as I stood in her office, I saw it for the first time. She had become a woman whose confidence and presence radiated strength. Her professional attire—a black suit and white shirt—suited her perfectly, highlighting her grace and authority.
"Mr. Thompson, stop checking me out. I'm your lawyer, not a magazine model." Her voice cut through my thoughts, and I immediately averted my gaze, embarrassed by my actions.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to." I mumbled, feeling foolish. I was no longer the confident man I used to be. Now, I felt like a naive teenager, caught in the act.
"Your visiting hours are up, Mr. Thompson. You need to return to your cell." The officer accompanying me stepped into the room.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Thompson." She waved with a professional tone, her expression still cold and detached.
"Tomorrow? Are you coming to the prison?" She casually mentioned the visit, which surprised me.
"Of course. It's my job," she replied with a shrug, her demeanor as confident and queenly as ever.
As I left her office, I was filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I was excited to see her again tomorrow. But on the other hand, I knew the truth—she wasn't visiting out of sympathy. She was doing her job. This was just another case for her. Nothing more.