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Served
Clay
As we celebrated Vanessa’s freedom and her future, we heard another knock on the door. I went to open it and saw Jack Doyle, our town lawyer, standing there with a solemn gaze. Vanessa stood by my side with a big smile on her face as she greeted him.
“Sorry for interrupting what I assume is a celebration,” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line.
“Yes, it’s a celebration, but what brings you all the way here, Jack?” I asked, curiously, my heart pounding inside my chest. His expression turned even more serious as he took an envelope out of his suit pocket and handed it to me.
“I’m sorry, Clay. You’ve been served.”
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