One
(Six Years Later)
Kai
"Of course, sir," I tell him professionally while keeping my eye roll internally.
After whispering something I can't hear into his assistant's ear, she schools the grimace on her face when she pulls away and offers him a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and a nod before exiting, shutting the door behind her.
Goosebumps speckle my arms, and I take a slow, steadying breath when Mr. Malloy takes the seat across from me.
"We need to restructure a few things around here," he begins, and my stomach drops because…
am I getting fired? "Roberts is taking some time off, and he's in the middle of a case.
I'm going to need you to take over. We are representing the plaintiff in a medical malpractice lawsuit.
Roberts has done the heavy work; we need you to help bring this case to a close.
The more money we can get out of the settlement, the higher the commission checks will be for everyone who worked on it.
" He offers me a wink like that’s supposed to be the proverbial carrot, and I'm the rabbit.
There is a light tap on the door, and then Mr. Malloy's assistant, Rebecca, enters, carrying a thick file folder. With a nod in my direction from him, she steps over to me and sets the file in front of me before excusing herself. I open the file to briefly scan through the documents, but not really paying attention to anything in particular. I close it, and feel like something’s off about this whole thing.
I've never been involved in anything like this before.
Why me?
Why now?
My palms feel clammy as my fingers twitch, holding the file.
"Sir, why are you assigning this case to me?
I specialize in family law, not medical malpractice.
" I ask from across the table. Mr. Malloy's eyes go from chocolate to black with a glare aimed at me.
He remains quiet. Is he testing me? "Do I have a say in this, sir?
I mean, I'm not familiar with the ins and outs like Roberts.
It's a big case that I would like to read over before I commit.
" I ask, and surprisingly, keep my voice from shaking.
"I don't see what there is to think about.
You work for us. This is our firm's case.
It's yours, and the other two partners agreed that you would take it over in Roberts' absence.
Read it over the weekend and become familiar with it.
You meet with both the plaintiff and the defendant, along with his attorney, on Monday morning at nine o'clock. "
"Monday?" Fuck me. I just finished a long custody battle and was going to relax in littlespace all weekend. It's been forever since I was able to let loose and play with my toys and watch cartoons. Additionally, a little fundraiser was happening at Club Pierre, which I was going to attend.
"Yes. Monday. Use the day to go over the notes and the weekend to get your questioning ready." He tells me curtly before standing.
I begrudgingly stand out of respect, pulling myself up to my full height and squaring my shoulders.
Malloy takes in a sharp breath and walks toward the door, but he stops and looks back at me with a scowl.
I swear, that man has never smiled once in the year since I graduated from law school.
He doesn't say anything. Just turns around and exits.
I flop back down in the plush, black leather chair when the door closes and take in a deep breath.
I hate being the new guy on the team. However, once I pay my dues, I will be able to secure a better job and do what I love. I became a lawyer to help kids. That's why I picked family law. Even in divorce cases, I always ensure that the children are impacted minimally.
I slowly open the file and glance down at the vast amount of paperwork.
Based on the statements and documentation, this case has been going on for over a year.
So, why is this being handed over to me now?
I thumb through the paperwork and see written testimonies, medical records, and photocopies of photos taken of evidence from whom I assume is our client.
Turning back to the cover page, I read, Maddison v.
Whitmore . Medical Malpractice. The words on the page blur, and legal jargon swims around my brain.
I was just assigned this case. A case that has clearly been going on for over a year.
Were the partners expecting me to get quick results?
I thrive under pressure, but this is excessive.
I skim through the initial complaint, a relatively standard litany of medical negligence during the pregnancy and birth of a child.
I'll delve into the details later. My heart already aches for this mother.
I skim through the rest of the page, and my eyes stop on the defendant's name: Shaun Whitmore, M.D.
The name smacks me in the face as if it were a physical blow, disorienting me. Shaun. I haven't thought about him in years. Not really. Memories of playdates at the LGBTQ+ center are faint whispers, quickly escalating to a thunderous roar, drowning out the quietness of the conference room.
Six years.
It's been six years since I last saw Shaun.
We were never anything serious, at least not to him.
I wanted more out of our time together. Over the course of two years of playdates, I developed feelings for him.
I wanted him to be my permanent daddy, not just an occasional plaything.
He helped me discover a side of myself that I've since kept secret from most people.
A secret that has made dating hard. Well, harder than it should.
Six years. Wow. Six years of carefully constructed walls and buried emotions, all shattering in the space of a single, deceptively plain folder.
I stare down at the file and flip through a few pages again.
I freeze, unsure how I missed it before when I looked through the photocopies.
Amongst them, a picture of Shaun. He's a bit older now.
A few wrinkles line the outer edges of his eyes.
His hair is a bit longer and grayer at the temples.
Hot. He's still hot. His eyes are a gray-blue, and I remember the way he looked at me while we were playing.
Like I was the only one he would ever look at that way.
I was his little. My chest aches because that is a lie I can't keep telling myself. I'm not his.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I pick up the file and begin reading again.
Forcing myself to look past the name and focus on the facts of the case.
The details of the malpractice filter through my brain fog of memories.
Shaun––no, Dr. Whitmore–– failed to properly diagnose a patient, leading to a series of complications that resulted in permanent damage to her baby.
Well, that doesn't sound like Shaun . The medical records, precisely documented, were impenetrable due to complex jargon and unappealing clinical findings.
I can barely focus on the details; my thoughts keep veering towards Shaun, the man, not the defendant.
Memories of the two of us playing at the center.
Shaun didn't mind that I liked more feminine things–glitter nail polish, dressing in my sparkle tutu, and playing with a wide range of dolls.
A smile crosses my face at the memory of him holding up a flowery dress to one of my dolls.
It was too plain, and I wanted her to wear her sparkly dress to match my tutu.
He said, 'Not everyone can pull off sparkles as well as you.
' Something about that interaction made me giggle.
I felt…special. Shaun didn't care that I was tall and broad.
A football player who loved dolls and all things glittery. He was so caring. Warm. Attentive. Fun.
We never saw each other outside of the center.
He was a young professional working odd hours, trying to finish up his residency.
I assumed he would move away from Rockport Ridge after he finished his studies.
I never thought he'd stay. Back then, I was a kid.
I had just finished high school when we met, and I was focused on college classes and trying to convince my parents that I was going into law, not medicine.
It took them a while to accept it. Still, they eventually agreed that having a lawyer in the family would be beneficial.
Mom teased that she would need good representation when she killed my father if he didn't stop spending money on his garden.
My father is the only one of us with a green thumb.
More memories come crashing in.
I remember sitting on the bench in the changing room.
It was so quiet and lonely. I felt my heart fissuring right down the middle.
The slow release of pain, and I thought I was going to die.
The quiet conference room reminds me of the quiet dressing room.
The silence echoes with the loss of something profound and irreplaceable.
I hadn't actively sought him out in the past six years because I was so wrapped up in school and then getting into law school.
With my studies, I didn't have time for anything else, and Shaun deserved better than what I could offer.
I feel mocked by the file folder in front of me.
My former daddy, now a defendant in a high-stakes medical malpractice lawsuit.
The sheer audacity of the situation is almost comical, if not for its profoundly unsettling nature.
The sharp irony, biting into my consciousness.
I have been working myself to death for the past six years to get where I am, only to suddenly be faced with an ethical dilemma that threatens to unravel everything I've worked so hard to achieve.
The question is inescapable: could I, in good conscience, represent Heather Maddison?
The conflict of interest is blatant. My personal feelings, once buried deep, now threaten to cloud my professional judgment.
The legal ethics I swore to uphold, the principles of objectivity and impartiality I hold dear, seem fragile and almost laughable.
The carefully constructed walls of my professional life seem on the verge of crumbling.
"I need some air," I whisper through a sigh to nobody since I'm alone in the room.
I place the file in my bag and promise to give it a thorough review over the weekend. I gently run my hand through my hair, fingers getting caught in the tangle of curls as usual.
Stepping over to the window overlooking the city, the hustle and bustle of travelers reflects the chaos in my brain.
In a world so vast, this case seems minuscule in comparison.
However, it's my job, and I have the next three days to figure out what to do about it.
The weight of this decision settles heavily on my chest, a physical burden that mirrors the ethical and emotional complexities before me.
Come Monday, I know I'll have to make a choice, a choice that will change my life forever.
The stakes are high, both professionally and personally.
The future, once clear and focused, now lay shrouded in an uncertain fog.