Case Dismissed
KALLIE
“Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” I yelp, dancing around the kitchen as boiling hot coffee soaks into my blouse. Another shirt bites the damn dust.
I set the coffee cup in the sink and grab some paper towels and dab at my now-soaked shirt. Tossing the paper towels, I give up the half-hearted attempt to clean up my blouse and head back to my bedroom to change.
Again.
This morning seems to be an exercise in Murphy’s Law.
If there is even a remote possibility it can go wrong, it most certainly will.
To disastrous and unfortunate measures. It started with the sleepy tea I brewed at midnight because the jitters over today’s court date had me tossing and turning for hours.
Once it was brewed, I brought it to my room to sip on while reading a book and trying to relax.
One minute I’m turning the page of my book, the next I’m dumping half my tea into my lap and on my sheets.
After furiously stripping the bed and tossing the now certainly tea-stained bedding into the laundry, I crawled back into the bed with only the fitted sheet and my favorite blanket, which I normally use to relax on the couch.
As I lie down and pull the blanket over me, I catch a scent.
The faintest hint of smoke. Tears spring to my eyes as I remember the last time I used the blanket.
Evren had come over for dinner. He surprised me with frosted heart sugar cookies that he had gotten from Bite Me Baby, Grace’s catering company.
He had her make extra when they catered lunch for his staff.
We’d eaten, then sat on the couch to watch tv and nibble on the cookies.
I grabbed it off the back of the couch and wrapped it around us as we cuddled together.
My heart aches as I pull the blanket up to my nose and inhale deeply.
I miss him so much. I wish more than anything he would be with me in court.
But lying there, even in the depths of my grief, I let Evren’s scent wrap around me.
I imagine it’s his arms, so big and strong and gentle, that embrace me and give me comfort.
And that’s what eventually lulled me to sleep. Not a restful sleep, but enough that I’m not a useless zombie when I wake up. Regrettably, that's where things went downhill.
I took a spill in the shower, bruising my tailbone.
After I got dressed, I started doing my hair and makeup, nothing fancy or elaborate, my simple style.
Yet somehow, I managed to knock over my foundation bottle, spilling half of it down the sink.
When straightening my hair, the straightener slipped off the counter.
I reflexively reached out and grabbed it before it could hit the ground.
White-hot pain pulsed from my fingertips to my palm.
A long string of hissed curses poured out of my mouth as I tossed the offending hair tool into the sink, chipping the plastic housing.
As soon as the cursed thing was unplugged, I went in search of my first aid kit and burn cream.
Fortunately, I discovered I do still have the ointment, and it’s miraculously unexpired.
That’s where my luck ran out. Upon squeezing the tube, it burst, sending ointment all over the burn as well as my newly-purchased professional pantsuit for court.
With a resigned sigh, I finished bandaging my hand and cleaned up the mess before heading to change.
Clearly, coffee was needed to steady my nerves.
Which is how I ended up where I am now—back in my closet searching for yet another professional-looking outfit after ruining outfit number two with the coffee that was supposed to help settle me down.
After what seems like an eternity of trial and error, I finally settle on a pair of khaki dress pants and a cream knit, cap-sleeve top with navy strips on the bottom half, paired with navy sandals.
The outfit is neutral, unassuming, and entirely too wrinkled for all the work I’ve been doing to prepare for today. I feel like a wilting flower whose leaves are turning from thirst. Look like one too, in this outfit devoid of color and personality.
Why the hell did I buy this?
Having no time to try and find something else, I resign myself to looking like a wrinkled, fading bloom. If I don’t go now, I’ll be late, and I refuse to give Matt the impression he’s intimidated me. Grabbing my files and keys from the side table by the front, I take one last look in the mirror.
If you look close enough, you can see the dark circles creeping out from beneath a metric ton of foundation and concealer. My chest aches with the weight of a million tears of grief. And my hand is sporting a fabulous bandage.
“Get your shit together, Kallie. Don’t give that fucker the satisfaction.”
With a curt nod to myself, I head out the door.
I don’t remember the drive. One minute, I was putting the car into gear and contemplating how my life took such a violent detour from thriving romance and business to brokenhearted and fighting for my business in court against my low-life ex-husband, and the next, I’m parking the car in the lot of the courthouse.
The primary evidence of my journey is the cramps I have in my hands from death gripping the steering wheel, and the fact that there are no flashing lights behind me as I exit the vehicle.
Files in hand, I head for the courthouse.
Long security lines. Dreadful fluorescent lighting.
And an unending echo of doom as sounds bounce around the marbled floor.
There’s an overpowering scent of disinfectant, as if the faculty tries to use industrial cleaner to wipe away all the vile energy that congregates here every time a case concludes.
The air feels thick and heavy, almost oppressive, as I finally make it through the security line and into the main courthouse.
I glance at my messages and confirm the directions to the courtroom that Neeve sent over.
She and the forensic accountant, whom I will be meeting for the first time, will meet me outside the courtroom.
I was hoping to meet the accountant before today, but our schedules never lined up.
With Neeve’s assurance that this guy was the best, and my utter trust in her, I let that detail go.
Winding my way through the crowded hallways, my anxiety begins rising. It bites at my already fragile nerves, and its icy fingers bury themselves into my spine, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps and chilling my bones.
I wish Evren were here to wrap me in his warmth.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I swat it away.
There’s no time for emotions right now. Now I have to focus on keeping my business out of the hands of my conniving, manipulative, microdicked ex-husband.
Straightening my spine, I turn the corner and stop dead in my tracks, heart stopping.
Standing next to Neeve is a demon who could be Evren’s older doppleganger. All the internalized self-talk I just did evaporates as I try to take a deep breath to calm the tidal wave of pain that surges in my heart. Neeve picks that moment to look up from her phone and spots me, waving me over.
With a breath that does nothing to soothe the raging water of agony swelling in my chest, I walk over with as much confidence as I can muster.
“Morning,” Neeve says, giving me a quick embrace.
“Morning,” I say with a slightly shaky voice.
Neeve gives me a tight smile before turning to the demon next to her. He’s older, with silver-gray streaks throughout his black-and-red hair and goatee. His horns extended well above his head, making him nearly seven feet. Dressed in a well-tailored suit, he’s a handsome and commanding presence.
“Kallie, this is Demmir; Demmir, this is Kallie, our client.”
Odd that she doesn’t introduce us by our full names. I don’t have time to think much about it before Demmir begins speaking…in a voice that threatens to completely undo me, it reminds me so much of Evren’s.
He extends a large crimson-colored hand, turning his vibrant orange eyes to me as he says, “Very nice to meet you, though I am sorry about the circumstances. I want to assure you, I took great care with your financial records and am confident with the documentation you provided and my expertise in the field, that the judge will see this for the smoke show that it is.”
I feel like I’m swimming against a current trying to pull me under.
His voice, his eyes, the crimson of his skin.
It’s so similar to Evren, tears spring to my eyes as I shake his hand.
When I release it, I rub the center of my chest and will the unshed tears not to fall.
Demmir gives me a sympathetic look, looking as if he wants to say something, but is interrupted by the court clerk.
“Brooks versus Voss. All parties, please enter the courtroom at this time,” The clerk shouts into the hallway.
Neeve takes a deep breath, then pulls her shoulders back, chin held high, and nods at me before walking forward. Demmir lays a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze before following Neeve. I take one last breath and follow my legal team into the arena.
As soon as I walk in, our eyes meet, and the world tilts.
Evren.
He sits in the back of the court next to a smaller demon female…
and my sister, who has the good sense to look the tiniest bit guilty.
I note Evren tries to rise but stops himself, inclining his head slightly.
I glance from Evren to Mel, then at the tiny female sitting with them, before snapping my eyes back to where I’m going.
Looking at Demmir, the pieces start to fall into place.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to mull this over as Matt and his lawyer brush past us. Matt deliberately knocks into me, causing me to stumble.
A deep, menacing growl ripples through the noisy courtroom. Everyone falls silent, and I know without looking that all eyes have turned to Evren. I let my heart soak in his protectiveness for just a moment, the gesture a balm to the sadness I’ve been carrying.
It only lasts a moment, though, as the judge calls the courtroom to order.
He picks up the papers in front of him, reading through before beginning.
“Counselors, I see we’re here to contest a divorce settlement on the grounds that pertinent financial information to the initial settlement was withheld. Is that correct?”
Matt’s lawyer, who looks like an oily lothario in a cheap suit, rises from his seat. Tossing a shit-eating grin to Neeve that makes her bristle, he addresses the court.
“Jed Lobe, representing Mr. Voss. That is correct. My client was unfairly paid a settlement sum in the divorce that was based upon misrepresented financials.”
“Objection!” Neeve shouts.
Mr. Lobe turns to Neeve, looking like a predator. “I’m merely stating the facts of the case.”
Neeve looks like she’s ready to rip Mr. Lobe to shreds with her bare hands. “Facts based in what reality? The twilight zone for cheaters?”
The judge bangs the gavel. “Order,” he shouts.
“Counselor, let’s not sling mud.”
“Apologies, your honor.”
The judge huffs before addressing us once more, “Ms. Hallon, I see you have entered into evidence forensic financials?”
“Yes, your honor. I have Mr. Demmir Kade, a financial forensic accountant, here. He is ready to take the stand and answer any questions regarding the evidence entered. We’ve also taken the liberty of providing these documents to Mr. Lobe and his client.”
Mr. Kade? Holy fuck, Demmir is Evren’s dad. But how the hell did he end up on my legal team?
“Your honor, these documents are a fruitless attempt to bury my client in paperwork.”
“Save it, Mr. Lobe. I’m seeing that you’ve had well over a week to review these documents. Mr. Kade?”
Demmir, otherwise known as Evren’s dad, stands up, buttoning his suit jacket. “Yes, your honor.”
The judge is flipping through documents, pulling out a pair of glasses to look more closely. “I speak law, not numbers. Give me the cliffs notes, and I’ll stop you if I have questions.”
“Yes, your honor,” Demmir says as Neeve hands him a file.
He opens it and lays it down in front of him, thumbing through several pages before stopping.
“If you’ll turn to page 10, there is a summary of my findings regarding the personal finances of Ms. Brooks.
From the date of their marriage up until the divorce was finalized, Ms. Brooks shared joint banking with Mr. Voss.
He had access to all of her personal accounts until documents for divorce were filed with the court.
No funds were withheld prior to Mr. Voss’s removal from said account to the present.
There has been no unusual or suspicious financial activity. ”
The judge nods. “And in regard to the business? I’m seeing that Mr. Voss is calling into question several business contracts?”
Demmir flips several more pages before addressing the judge once more, “If you’ll turn to page 23, you’ll find the business summary.
The contracts in question were established in July of this year, well after the divorce was finalized.
Therefore, these funds can not be considered for resettlement calculations, as they are post-divorce.
Additionally, there are no fraudulent or unusual financial transactions in Ms. Brooks business accounts. ”
“Bullshit. Lying bitch is hiding money from me!” Matt shrieks as he jumps to his feet. His lawyer tries to settle him, but Matt is hell-bent on making a scene.
“Order! Control your client, Mr. Lobe,” the judge commands as Matt continues to yell.
“Mr. Voss! If you do not calm down, I will hold you in contempt, and you can spend the night in jail and think about your behavior.”
At the threat of jail, Matt throws himself back into his chair like a petulant child. Mr. Lobe resumes his own seat, whispering fervently at Matt, who is growing angrier by the second.
“Thank you, Mr. Kade. You may be seated.”
The judge resumes perusing the paperwork in front of him, and the court remains quiet for several long minutes.
My palms are sweating, and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Time seems to drip like a slow-leaking faucet.
And if that isn’t bad enough, I can feel Evren’s eyes on me the entire time.
“Please rise,” The judge finally says.
“It is my opinion that Ms. Brooks did not hide any funds, either personal or professional, that would have impacted the sum awarded to Mr. Voss during his divorce settlement.
Furthermore, I see a secondary petition for a lien against Ms. Brooks' business, Bloomhaus. There are no legal grounds to justify the filing of this petition. Therefore, I am ruling in favor of Ms. Brooks. Mr. Voss, do not weaponize this courtroom again. Case dismissed.”