Reasonable Doubt 3 (16 page)

Figures…

I stepped out and carried her inside anyway. I was sure she’d wake up soon.

“Good morning, Mr. Henderson.” An intern greeted me as I walked inside.

“Good morning, Laura,” I responded. “Am I in a different time zone today? Why is everyone awake and working right now?”

She blushed. “It’s tax season.”

“I keep hearing that…” I stepped onto the elevator. “I’ll see you later.”

Emma stirred in my arms, murmuring, but only soft snores followed.

When the elevator doors glided open, I walked through the massive “H&H” glass doors headed to Emma’s half-finished playroom. I gently lowered her onto the massive pink bed and tucked her under the covers, whispering “I love you,” before I dimmed the lights.

I took a seat in the corner and pulled out the folder that was under my arm, reading over what seemed like written receipts and accounts of money exchanges. Things I didn’t recall doing.

I pulled out my phone to text Ava, to see if this was just another elaborate joke—something she was prone to pulling, but I heard her voice.

“Fuck!” She yelled.

I jumped up and headed to where the shouting had come from, pausing once I heard a familiar voice.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good…”

“Ahhhh….” Ava was moaning. “Just fuck me…Fuck me harder…”

I completely froze, unable to take another step. I didn’t want to believe another man—Kevin, from the sound of things, was fucking my wife or that she was cheating on me.

I couldn’t believe it. I trusted her way too much.

But, as she screamed a few more times—the same screams she yelled when having sex with me, I knew it was true.

“Is this how you always conduct business,
Mrs. Henderson
?” Kevin asked, laughter in his voice.

“Are you seriously going to call me that after we just fucked?” She groaned. “Can we actually get back to work now? That’s the third interruption tonight and I’d actually like to get something done.”

“Fine, fine…”

Papers shuffled, windows opened, but I remained frozen—still in disbelief. It wasn’t until I peered through the slit of the door that my brain actually began to process what was happening.

“What are we going to do about this Ferguson shit?” Kevin asked.

“Ferguson shit? That’s what we’re calling it?”

“Oh, right. Here’s a better name for it: Five to ten years for me. Fifteen years for you.”

“I was thinking twenty.”

“
Twenty
?” He slammed the table. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Twenty years? Are you suggesting that we just turn ourselves in?”

“No…” she said. “Just Liam.”

“What?” He sounded appalled. “Are you joking right now?”

“Do you hear me laughing?”

Silence.

“Ava, look…” He sighed. “Liam is like a brother to me—”

“Says the man who’s currently fucking his wife…Some brother you are.”

“This is a mistake.”

“A mistake would be one time,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “Once a day for the past few years isn’t necessarily the same thing. Sorry.”

My heart sank.

“It was a mistake, Ava.” He looked conflicted. “Tonight was going to be the last time anyway. I can’t keep doing this to him.”

“I don’t want to stop.” She walked over to the window and sighed. “I can’t…”

“What?”

“He doesn’t give me what I need anymore…”

“You’ll have to find a way that he can. Now actually might be a good time to start, seeing as though he might have to be your lawyer.”

She turned around in tears. “Is this really the last time?”

“The first time should’ve been the last time.” He walked over and massaged her shoulders. “You were only using me…You tend to forget that.”

“I wasn’t—” She choked back a sob. “I wasn’t using you…”

“Yes you were.” He kissed her lips. “And that’s okay. I sympathized.”

“Did you think I was a horrible person?

“No.”

“You promise?”

He nodded, cupping her face in his hands. “He couldn’t give you a baby and you wanted one…Naturally…That’s completely understandable.”

I held back a gasp.

“He doesn’t fuck me like you do...” she whispered.

“Stop it, Ava.” He kissed her cheek. “Stop it.”

I didn’t want to hear anymore.

I couldn’t take it.

As the two of them kissed and held each other—completely immersing themselves in their own world, I forced myself to walk away.

I hit the lights in my office and noticed a bright blue box on my desk. It read, “To: the love of my life. From: Your first and only love.”

My heart ached again as I tore the wrapping and looked inside: A new set of cufflinks, a set that probably cost more than all of my suits combined. My initials were engraved in them, and she’d enclosed a quote from my favorite authors:

“Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of life much so. Aim above morality.”

-Henry David Thoreau

I sighed. She’d left out the last part of the quote, the “Be not simply good; be good for something.”

I pulled out my phone and sent her an email:

I didn’t answer.

I left my office and walked over to Emma’s playroom, looking at her as she slept peacefully. I wanted to make her wake up, make her look at me, so I could study her features and pick them apart, so I could see for myself that she was indeed Kevin’s, but I couldn’t.

She was
mine
, biological father or not.

I carried her out of the firm and rushed home. As soon as I set her down, I flipped over the coffee table and opened the envelope I’d filed away hours earlier.

It was a standard summons, a demand to appear in court, but the charges listed didn’t end on one page. They didn’t even end on two.

It was a ten page manifesto, a laundry list of bullshit that I would never attempt: bribery, racketeering, tax fraud, mail fraud, wire fraud—every fucking fraud.

What the hell is this?

I pored over the documents for hours, my mind racing a mile a minute. Still, I couldn’t completely process everything—my mind was still thinking about Kevin and Ava.

How she’d lied to me.

How he’d lied to me, too.

And now, this.

The door opened at five in the morning, and Ava set a hot cup of coffee in front of me.

“We need to talk,” she said.

I said nothing. Just closed all the folders and looked at her.

“I just got served by the SEC…” She paced the floor. “Served, like
legit papers
…They came to the firm and—”

“I thought you were at the coffee shop.”

“I was.” She swallowed. “I stopped by the firm after getting your coffee so I could pick up a few things.”

“Was anyone there with you?”

“Of course not.” She scoffed. “Look at what time it is. Anyway…”

I couldn’t hear anything else she was saying. I could see her lips moving, make out some of the sounds that were coming out of her mouth, but the lies she’d just told me were blocking out everything.

“Why are you cheating on me?” I blurted out, suddenly annoyed by the tears falling down her face.

She sucked in a breath and looked me up and down. “Liam, the SEC has just unreasonably served me papers. Are you seriously accusing me of infidelity right now?”

“I’m not
accusing
you. An accusation would imply that there’s a chance you could be innocent. Why. Are. You. Cheating. On. Me?

She toyed with the gemstones on her necklace. Then she started to hum the refrain of a classic Sinatra song, “New York, New York.”

“Don’t make me ask you again, Ava,” I said. “I know you’ve fucked Kevin.”

Her eyes finally met mine. “Fine…Yes, I fucked him. Now, what?” Tears formed in her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I never thought I would cross the line with him of all people…”

“You told me Emma was a surprise…” I said. “That you didn’t want to have kids until we were in our mid-thirties.”

Her face paled. “You were at the office tonight weren’t you?”

“I was…”

Silence.

“So,” I said, mentally putting together the puzzle pieces. “Either you’re lying to him about me not being able to give you a baby—because last time I checked, right before Emma was
miraculously
conceived, you were still making me wear condoms and we weren’t even trying to have a fucking baby. Or, you’re lying to me, and you just wanted to fuck my best friend for an ulterior motive you’re saving for later. Which is it?”

“I still love you, Liam, It’s just—”

“
Which is it
?”

She said nothing, she just stood there with more tears falling down her eyes.

I held up one of the folders I’d been reading through. “I was looking through these tonight…At first, I thought they were standard mail-outs that you’d signed for me while I was gone or too busy, standard office supply orders, things like that…”

“Where’d you find those?”

“But it turns out,” I said, ignoring her question, “That these are all fucking favors from judges and clerks that I don’t recall asking for. Ever.”

“Liam...”

“Is there anyone in this city that you haven’t fucked to get something in return?”

She looked as if she actually had to think about it.

“I send you flowers every day—every. fucking. day.” I stepped forward. “I tell you that I love you and that you complete me, every day and this is what I get in return?”

“I understand how you feel, Liam, but—”

“No, you don’t fucking understand.” I clenched my fists. “I’ve never even entertained the thought of being
friends
with another woman. I make sure everyone knows I’m completely unavailable, that no one else stands a damn chance.”

“I cheated for your benefit, Liam. I did it for you.”

What the fuck?

I’d heard a lot of bullshit in my life, but that line officially took the cake.

“How do you think you won the Luttrell case?” She wiped away her tears and narrowed her eyes at me. “You think you did it with your award winning rhetoric and charm?”

“Do you have a mental disorder that you failed to tell me about?”

“I fucked the judge three days before the verdict. You were going to lose. And if you lost that case, there’s no way some of our current clients would’ve picked our firm to handle their account.”

“
Our
firm?”

“You think you built it alone?” She laughed. “Liam Henderson, warm-hearted, loyal, and too nice for his own fucking good? Please. I had to intercept every contract you sent out and redraft half of the terms. If I’d left it up to you, your firm would be nothing more than a pipe dream. You should be thanking me because you have no idea how much work I’ve done to put you where you are.”

“You’ve never argued a single case.”

“No, but I’ve fucked a lot of powerful people to make sure you never lost one.”

“I’ve never lost because I’m a damn good lawyer.”

“And I’m a damn good lay.” She shrugged. “Of course, my own husband has been so busy this year that he probably wouldn’t even know.”

“You’re blaming me for throwing your pussy around?”

“I’m shocked you even know what the word
pussy
means.” She hissed. “We lay in bed together every night and you never want to fuck me.”

“You always say that you’re tired. Or is that a lie, too?”

“I was only tired of fucking you.” She brushed past me and shut the door to Emma’s room. “What do you want to do now, huh? Divorce me?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“It is.” She smirked and a knock came to the door.

We both stood rooted to the floor, and the knock came again.

“I’ll get it.” I warned. “You stay there.”

I walked away and opened it, expecting to see Kevin so I could punch the shit out of him, but it was a different woman in a suit.

A young blonde.

“You’ve um…” Her cheeks reddened. “You’ve been…”

“
Served
!” Someone whispered loudly from around the corner. “Tell him he’s been
served
…”

“You’re an intern at
The New York Times
, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes.

She nodded, but then she added. “My boss says you can go fuck yourself, and that even though we’ll never run your picture, we’ll make sure everyone knows that your firm is about to be run into the ground starting tomorrow.” She handed me the copy print for an article in tomorrow’s paper. “He says it’s your turn to feel some karma.”

I slammed the door in her face.

“I think you need to seriously weigh your options before you act out on your emotions.” Ava was right behind me, holding a sleeping Emma.

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise…”

I raised my eyebrow. “And what exactly are the proposed terms?”

“If you help me sort this thing out—if you get the SEC off the firm’s back, both of us can avoid serving any time.”

“I’m not serving any fucking time. I didn’t do anything wrong. And if you think I won’t be the first person in line to help the state put your ass away, you’re sadly fucking mistaken.”

“Awww.” She pouted. “Look at you. Trying to sound all masculine and tough for a change, sounding like the man I wish you could’ve been.”

“Fuck you, Ava.”

“Not a chance.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Let me try phrasing this another way: I know that you’re Mr. Lawyer of the Year and you’d never willingly lie because you have a conscience and all that. But if you don’t help me, or if you refuse to tell investigators that you were partly responsible for what happened—that we
all
played a small part, I’m filing for sole custody of Emma.”