Chapter 1
Daniel
The courtroom doors burst open and the camera shutters immediately begin to pop as the reporters hurl questions my way.
"Mr. Trotten—do you think that Judge Tucker's decision will deter the town council from pursuing the landfill project?"
"Now that the judge has blocked the project, what will the town of Reyfield do with that enormous plot of vacant land? Do you expect it to go up for sale?"
"There are rumors that developers are putting in bids to purchase the lot and construct condos. What's your client's position on that possibility?"
The national media rarely ever pays attention to sleepy little suburbs like Reyfield, Illinois—population (barely) 5000—but Shinewell vs. the Town of Reyfield is a landmark case.
And I just won the fuck out of it.
I needed a win. I really did. Because lately, I've been losing in my personal life. My marriage is a mess. My son is having a hard time adjusting. I'm paying a mortgage on a house I never step foot in while I spend my nights in a lonely, unfurnished apartment on the bad side of town jerking off into my hand.
So I may suck as a husband, as a father, as a friend. But I'm good at this lawyer-thing. Even as I fail at everything else in my life, it's a relief to know that I'm still the best attorney in town.
I needed this win.
Adjusting my tie, I throw my shoulders back and lift my chin, adopting my most confident posture as I step out into the hallway. I hold a hand out in front of me, wordlessly commanding the crowd to fall silent. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. This injunction is only the first step in what I expect will be a long and arduous legal battle."
At least I hope it will be long and arduous because 'long' and 'arduous' always results in a series of big fat checks for me.
There's no way the town council won't appeal the decision. There's far too much money on the line. They won't just let it go.
A reporter pushes to the front. She's petite and blonde. Her lips are varnished in glossy red and blue shimmers on her eyelids. I'm sure that if I tilt my head ten degrees to the left, I'll get an unrestricted view of her areola. But that doesn't allure me. It pisses me off. I immediately find myself comparing her to Grace.
My wife is naturally the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. With her silky blonde hair, her soulful chestnut eyes and curves that beg to be explored, she doesn't need makeup and provocative clothes to have my body yearning for her. Too bad she wants nothing to do with me.
The dolled-up journalist opens her mouth. "But does your client have the funds necessary to wage this war? I mean, we're talking about a state-funded senior citizens' residence going up against the Town of Reyfield." She bats her eyelashes coquettishly, wearing a hint of a smile.
I barely acknowledge her. "This lawsuit isn't about money. It's about doing the right thing for our community."
Forgive me for being a full-of-shit bastard.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jim Thatcher, my unworthy opponent, slinking out of the courtroom. The reporters don't stop to ask him for comment, they don't even give him a second look. He shoots me a venomous glare and I continue to soak up the attention. He pulls out his cell phone and punches at the screen with his angry little sausage-fingers.
He's smarmy as fuck. The kind of guy that gives lawyers a bad reputation. Not that I'm an angel, myself. I've done "things". Things that straddle the line between right and fucking wrong. But Thatcher is a different breed of scum. A predator. He doesn't have an ethical bone in his body. And even worse, he's a shit lawyer. I don't know why people continue to hire him and I don't know why he continues to go up against me. Although he has double my experience in the halls of justice, he loses every time.
I don't let his vitriol throw me off my game. After all, the country is watching...She might be watching too.
The idea that my Grace might be sitting in our home, with our son, watching me on the television screen lights a fuse of determination in my blood. I know that I've hurt her but maybe she'll stop hating me for long enough to feel proud of me.
My mouth tilts into a lopsided grin. "The town of Reyfield will not succeed in erecting a landfill next-door to the residence. The Shinewell Senior's Residence is going to win this battle...They've got the best lawyer in the country fighting alongside them."
A scruffy-looking man in a cheap beige suit pushes through the crowd. "Daniel Trotten? Daniel Trotten?" He sticks a big brown envelope and a pen my way.
Hell yeah, I'll give you an autograph. It's a bit unorthodox for a lawyer to have fans but I'm a big deal. I graduated at the top of my class at Wayne State and landed a job at a local law firm with ease. In no time, I made junior partner, becoming the first lawyer in the firm’s history to earn that position before the age of 30.
Yeah, I’m a big deal…Can’t Grace see that?
Making sure to give the camera a good angle, I reach for the envelope. "Who do I make this out to, buddy?"
The man scoffs. "Daniel Trotten, you've been served!"
I feel the blood drain from my face. Really? Come on!
I shoot him a look and he just shrugs before disappearing into the crowd.
The reporters go wild.
"Mr. Trotten—who is this new lawsuit from?"
"Is the defendant already appealing Judge Tucker's decision?"
"Is your client prepared to face the appeals court?"
I stand straight, feet shoulder-width apart, and speak clearly and purposefully. "When you're a crusader for justice as I am, you inevitably find yourself the target of attacks from bullies trying to intimidate the people. But I won't be intimidated. This fight isn't my own, this victory isn't my own. It's the fight of the people, the victory of the people. Tell the town council that Daniel Trotten, esquire, will not be intimidated by their frivolous lawsuits."
I throw a challenging look over at Jim Thatcher. He gives me a smile that speaks unfiltered evil. Fuck that guy. I won't back down. I tear the envelope open and pull out the sheaf of papers. The bulbs flash in rapid fire and the reporters clamour for a look at the papers.
My heart stops cold in my chest. The document in front of me isn't a motion for appeal in the Shinewell vs. the Town of Reyfield case.
It's a divorce petition.
From my wife.