The Last Chance

During the hearing, Vivian Blake, who was supposed to be my attorney, openly reversed her own statement.

She produced a psychiatric diagnosis for Caleb Quinn.

"I'm deeply sorry. Although it's my duty to seek justice for my client, telling the truth is also the principle I live by."

The moment she finished, not only was I stunned. Even her assistant froze.

That was perjury.

Vivian was risking her entire career.

But she was determined to protect Caleb.

Not even the child in her own womb, the child who'd died seeking justice, could shake her.

Outside the courthouse, the wind was damp and bitter.

To preserve the last scraps of my dignity, I repeated the promise she'd made me.

"You promised me you'd punish Caleb."

Vivian closed her eyes helplessly.

"If I didn't let you go through the court process, you'd never give up. Honestly, I prepared Caleb's psychiatric diagnosis long ago."

She waved the report in front of me, then tossed it into a trash can.

A smug smile tugged at her mouth.

As if she'd won a battle.

But the victor wasn't me, her husband.

Caleb wrapped an arm around her and raised three fingers, all obedient and pitiful.

"Vivian, I promise I'll never speed again."

Then he blinked at me with pleading eyes.

"I just got my license, so I don't really know how to control the speed yet. Nathan, you won't blame me, right? You'll forgive me, won't you?"

He tilted his head, triumphant beneath the act. There wasn't a trace of guilt in him.

My hand curled into a fist. I was about to say I would never forgive him.

But Vivian stroked his hair with indulgent tenderness.

"As long as you know you were wrong, it's not a big deal."

Her tone was light, casual.

As if the one who'd died had only been a stray cat or dog.

She forgave him with a smile.

My gaze fell on the folder she always carried. A sticker was pasted across it: Working hard for baby formula money.

It stabbed my eyes until they hurt.

When she first got pregnant, Vivian had pestered me to make that sticker for her as a reminder.

She used to say every court appearance was for me and our child's happier future.

Thinking about it now, it was almost funny.

I was the plaintiff in that trial.

Yet I was the one who'd truly lost.

She walked ahead with Caleb in her arms, chatting and laughing.

I suddenly called out to her. My mouth stretched into a smile so wretched I could feel it cracking.

"Vivian, do you remember how many chances are left? Aren't you afraid you'll use them all?"

She stopped, then slowly turned around.

Clearly, she thought the question was absurd. Still, she let out a dismissive laugh.

"One hundred is a big number. It's not that easy to use them all."

Yes. One hundred chances sounded like a lot.

But in six years of marriage, Vivian had indulged Caleb far more often than anyone should.