42. Oliver
Oliver
On Friday morning, I stand outside a conference room on the third floor of my building, waiting to go inside.
I can see James’s smug face in the room with his lawyers on either side of him. Noah Finnigan, the mastermind behind our findings, is next to me, but he’s been very quiet all morning.
Lissa is several doors away, instructed not to leave that room until the meeting is over. I want her close by, for too many reasons to name, but I don’t want her running into her ex. Ever again if I can help it.
The idea of a man hurting her or finding anything about her so objectionable that he would shove her into a kitchen counter is impossible for me to comprehend. She’s the sweetest woman I have ever met, and as I watch James laughing and joking with his lawyers, I’m so happy Lissa and I met.
No one else is going to take this son of a bitch down like I will.
“Why did you take on this case?” Noah asks me as I turn to him, pulling the folders in my hands against my chest.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re in the middle of Reynolds, and you’re alongside Sutcliffe in the running for EP. Why take on something pro bono right now?”
He inhales deeply, his eyes narrowing.
I raise my eyebrows. It’s impertinent, not to say rude, for him to challenge me on this right now. As a junior associate, he takes his instructions from the senior partners—with no questions asked. Not to mention the fact that we’re about to win this thing. I clear my throat.
“Do you object to helping those less fortunate?” I ask coldly.
Noah doesn’t reply, jaw flexing as he gives a half shrug and turns toward the door, about to go inside.
“Give me a minute,” I say.
I turn around, heading toward the room where Lissa is. I push open the door and slip inside. She stands up, visibly nervous, her usual fidgeting ten times as bad as it usually is.
“Are you alright?”
She nods, but I can tell she isn’t. “Are you sure this is a good idea? If it goes wrong, this could cause a lot of problems for you. And James is a master at manipulating things to get his way.”
“I know what I’m doing, Lissa. I’ve handled cases like this before. Many times, actually.”
“Not with him.”
“True. But it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
She bites her lip, and I glance back at the glass wall, hating that I can’t take her hand or offer her any kind of comfort.
“Do you need anything? It shouldn’t take long.”
She shakes her head, sitting back down.
“Do you have your phone with you?” She nods, and I pull mine out, sending her the soothing playlist I used when she was having her massage. “Put that on and listen to it while the meeting’s taking place, okay?”
She nods again, smiling gratefully at me as I head back outside. Noah is exactly where I left him, standing beside the door, his expression grim.
“I’ll do the talking,” I say, and enter the room with Noah right behind me.
James’s eyes swivel to me, widening a little as I meet his gaze.
Remember me, dipshit?
“Wow. The head honcho himself,” he says smugly, as I take a seat. Noah is silent beside me, but I’m quietly pleased we have fewer representatives than James. He looks as if he thinks he’s about to walk out of here with the deal of a lifetime.
I place the folder carefully in front of me, interlinking my fingers over the top of it.
“Look, I don’t want this to get ugly,” James says, spreading his hands out wide against the table.
“But Lissa threw down the gauntlet when she didn’t tell me about my son’s cancer diagnosis.
I don’t think that shows that she’s of sound mind, and right now, my priority is my son and his care.
She’s been paying astronomical sums for his treatment instead of using the policy that I pay good money for. ”
“The policy would tie her to you for the duration of the treatment,” I say, opening the folder and reading the details Lissa provided.
“Our son’s wellbeing and health shouldn’t be dependent on whether or not his parents have a good relationship,” James says, sounding infinitely reasonable. He’s a slick SOB, that’s for sure.
“Lissa has a protective order against you,” I say, not looking at him as I glance down at the paperwork.
“But there have been multiple violations over the past year. What’s to say that the increased contact with your son won’t force you to cross paths more often?
This is a situation that Lissa is trying to avoid for her own well-being. ”
“I understand that,” James concedes, cool as a cucumber.
“But Henry would be better off with me. Do you know where she’s living?
That’s not a healthy environment for a child who will be recovering from chemotherapy.
The doctors have assured me that Henry’s chances are good.
But that’s only if he gets the proper care he needs. ”
One of his lawyers opens their own folder and is about to slide the proposed settlement agreement over to me when I hold up a hand.
“One moment before we look at your offer, Mr. Davenport,” I say, feeling Noah’s body tighten beside me.
James frowns, glancing between the two of us. “My offer is more than generous. If I have to take this to court, I will, but I would prefer not to drag Lissa through that.”
How fucking thoughtful of you.
“Which property would you be living in with your son during and after his treatment?” I ask, and James’s eyes soften, as if we’re friends. He thinks I’m on his side, and I’m enjoying this way too much.
“My house in Brooklyn. It’s in a safe neighborhood, is well-built and has five bedrooms. Lissa would be allowed to visit any time.”
“It sounds quite nice.”
“It is.”
“And your apartment in New Jersey? Will he be visiting there, too?”
James goes still, his lawyers flicking a glance between themselves, as I sit quietly waiting to see how fast he can dig himself out of the hole he’s created.
James swallows, the first sign I’ve seen of his bravado slipping.
“My apartment in…”
“New Jersey. Yes. You know the one. We’ve found evidence that you’ve been paying the mortgage on it for the better part of six years. The first payment was made the month after you and Mrs. Davenport were married.”
I hand over the documents that Noah pulled from the building's lease, with James’s name clearly visible at the top.
“And would Henry be spending time with the woman who is living there?” I ask, sliding a photograph of James and the woman over to him. They’re standing on the balcony with their tongues down each other’s throats.
“You can understand my need for clarification, Mr. Davenport. After all, it could be tough for a child to be around his dad’s girlfriend, especially during his possibly difficult chemotherapy treatment. Particularly a woman who has been his dad’s girlfriend for the entire time he’s been married.”
James’s cheeks are burning now, his lawyers on either side of him look decidedly surprised at this new bit of information.
The two men exchange a weary glance, and I can just imagine what’s going through their minds.
If James hasn’t disclosed the apartment, even to them, then he’s in more trouble than I thought.
They won’t have a defense for this, and they won’t have taken it into account in their arguments.
You’ve really fucked yourself now, James, haven’t you?
“Now just a minute—” James attempts as he picks up the photograph. “This has been edited. She’s just my tenant.”
“She must be very lucky to have such an attentive landlord,” I say, closing the folder as I pull out the financial declaration with James’s signature at the bottom.
“You signed this, Mr. Davenport, and it does not list the apartment as one of your assets. That is perjury, as I’m sure your lawyers will explain to you.
More striking, however, is that you have lived a double life, without your then wife’s knowledge.
Hardly a good environment for a young boy to be placed in.
How many lies have you told Henry about why you couldn’t be home to tuck him in at night?
How many school events and ball games have you missed because you were with her? ”
James’s mouth is hanging open as he looks at his lawyers, but neither of them meets his eye.
“If we go to court, and you try to get custody of your son, every receipt for money that you’ve spent on your mistress will be laid out for the court to see.
Her name will be dragged into this too, and from what we’ve discovered, she doesn’t appear to be aware that you have a wife and child in another state. ”
James rises to his feet, his face purple and mottled with rage.
“This is ridiculous,” he bellows. “I will have your head for this, you fucking asshole.”
“That may be, Mr. Davenport. But here’s the alternative: We drop the primary custody petition today, and you can pay Lissa what she’s owed.
Every cent you’ve spent on your mistress over the last five years, plus the ‘generous’ settlement figure you just offered, and the activation of your insurance policy guaranteeing everything your son requires is paid for.
You will see him every other weekend as before, and there will be no more violations of the protection order.
You lay a finger on my client again, and I will make it my personal mission that you never see your son. Do we have a deal?”
My voice rings through the room, James’s furious expression turning from red to white in seconds. I have him over a barrel; he knows it, and I know it.
He looks at his lawyers, a silent signal as they both rise.
“You’ll be hearing from me,” he spits out.
“I look forward to it, Mr. Davenport. Make sure you think carefully before pursuing this. A court won’t look favorably on your lies. And one day, neither will your son.”
He storms out, slamming his hand so hard into the glass door that I see Noah wince. His lawyers scuttle out behind him, and I sit back in my chair, pushing the sheet of paper inside the folder with a smile of satisfaction on my face.