Trial 7

I had learned to keep my emotions under control. As a lawyer, I couldn’t afford to let feelings cloud my judgment—no matter how hard it was, no matter how tempting it might be to let my guard down. But here I was, standing at the precipice of a case that was rapidly becoming more complicated than I had ever imagined. And what had been a cold, calculated investigation into Dominic Hayes’s business empire was starting to feel personal in ways I didn’t know how to process.

The days following our meeting in his office were a blur of legal documents, late-night research, and phone calls to my team. But through it all, one thing stuck with me: his eyes. His words. The way he’d looked at me when he spoke about his cousin Adrian. There had been anger, yes, but also vulnerability—something I hadn’t expected. A glimpse of a man who was desperate to prove his innocence, even as he remained distant, withdrawn, and guarded.

Dominic insisted on his innocence, of course. He had all the right words, all the right defenses, all the right justifications. He told me, repeatedly, that he wasn’t involved in any of the fraud, that he had nothing to do with the falsified documents. And yet, every time I looked at him, I found myself doubting, questioning. I wanted to believe him—God, I wanted to believe him—but the evidence I had uncovered didn’t line up. There were too many inconsistencies, too many contradictions in the story he was telling me. And yet, when I was with him, I couldn’t ignore the strange pull between us.

I had always been the type of person who could compartmentalize my life. I separated work from personal, emotion from logic. But Dominic—damn him—made everything blur. Every time I saw him, I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes softened when he looked at me, how his jaw clenched in frustration when I pressed him on certain points. It was like he was playing some game with me, testing my resolve, seeing how far he could push me before I’d crack.

But the truth was, I wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings he was stirring inside me. Professionally, I had no choice but to remain neutral. I had to focus on the facts, the evidence, the case. But personally? The more time I spent with him, the more I found myself questioning what I wanted—not just for the case, but for myself.

It was late one evening when I found myself standing outside his penthouse, staring up at the building, wondering if I should even go in. Our last meeting had left me unsettled, confused. He’d been distant—more so than usual—and it was hard to tell if he was trying to push me away or if he was simply overwhelmed by the pressure of everything that was happening in his life. Either way, I could sense the tension building between us, the friction that I couldn’t quite explain. I had grown used to our professional relationship, but now, things felt... different. And it wasn’t just the case that was affecting me—it was Dominic.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. This was business. Nothing more. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions interfere with the work I was doing. I wasn’t here to get caught up in some kind of personal drama. I was here to find the truth. To help him clear his name.

Stepping into the elevator, I tried to push away the thoughts that were creeping into my mind. As the doors closed, I looked at my reflection in the polished metal, silently reprimanding myself for letting things get so tangled. I had to stay professional. I had to keep my distance.

When I reached Dominic’s floor, the doors opened to reveal his sleek, modern apartment. He stood near the windows, his back to me, looking out over the city lights below. There was something about him in this moment that made him seem almost... unreachable. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tense. It was the same coldness he had shown me during our last meeting, but tonight, it felt heavier. More distant.

I cleared my throat, trying to announce my presence without startling him. “Dominic?”

He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he assessed me. He didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge the fact that I was there. Instead, he simply gestured toward the sofa. “Sit. We need to talk.”

I did as he asked, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at the sight of him. There was a coolness in the air, and it wasn’t just the temperature. It was as if the entire room had been filled with an unspoken tension, one that neither of us was willing to address. He moved to the bar and poured himself a drink, the sound of the glass clinking against the counter only amplifying the silence between us.

“Any updates?” he asked, his voice steady but strained.

I hesitated. “I’ve been digging deeper into the financials, Dominic. And I have to be honest with you—it’s not looking good. The documents I found, they point to you. Some of them—” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. “Some of them appear to be forged, and I don’t know how to reconcile that with everything you’ve told me. If you’re innocent, then someone is setting you up. But the evidence is starting to mount, and I can’t ignore it.”

Dominic didn’t react at first. He just took a sip from his glass, his gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. His expression remained unreadable, and it was starting to get under my skin. It was as if he was shutting me out, pulling away in the only way he knew how.

“You think I’m guilty?” he asked after a long silence, his voice colder than before.

I felt my heart beat faster, the words caught in my throat. No, I didn’t think he was guilty—not yet. But I had to say something. I had to confront him, even if I didn’t have all the answers.

“No,” I said, my voice firmer than I intended. “But I need you to help me understand. I need you to explain what happened, Dominic. Because right now, everything I’m finding only points to you. And if you’re really innocent, then I need you to trust me. I need you to tell me the truth.”

For a moment, he said nothing. He just stood there, staring at me, as if weighing the decision of whether or not to let me in. I could see the strain on his face, the lines of stress etched around his eyes. He was trying to hold it together, to maintain control, but I could see that it was taking everything he had.

Finally, he put his glass down and walked over to the couch, sitting across from me. He looked at me with a mixture of frustration and something else—something I couldn’t quite place. “I’m not hiding anything from you, Serena. But I can’t give you the answers you want. Not yet.”

I frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of vulnerability. “It means there are things in motion that I can’t control. People involved who won’t stop until they see me fall. And right now, I can’t protect you from that. I don’t want you to get dragged into this any more than you already have. If you care about your career—if you care about your reputation—you should walk away.”

The words hit me like a slap. It was a warning, I knew that. But it wasn’t just a warning about the case—it felt like a warning about something else. About us. He was pushing me away, trying to protect me, but at the same time, I could feel the tension building between us. The pull that was becoming harder to ignore with each passing day.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I’m not walking away, Dominic. Not until I know the truth. And I’m not going to let you push me away either.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, a storm brewing behind them. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but instead, he looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured. “This goes deeper than you think.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just sat there, staring at him, the space between us charged with something that neither of us wanted to acknowledge. The air was thick with unspoken words, and I could feel my resolve starting to crack.

For the first time, I wasn’t sure if I could keep my emotions in check.

But as Dominic stood up and moved toward the window again, I realized something. No matter how complicated this case was—or how much he pushed me away—there was one thing I knew for certain.

I was in deeper than I ever intended. And no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I was starting to care about Dominic Hayes more than I should.