All Chapters of Heartbreak And Wars: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

JORDAN POVI take the morning off work to attend Blake's hearing. My firm thinks I'm at a doctor's appointment, not entirely a lie, since watching the legal system potentially destroy someone I care about definitely qualifies as a medical emergency in my book.The courthouse is downtown, one of those imposing federal buildings designed to make you feel small and insignificant.I've been here dozens of times for my own cases, but walking through security today feels different.I'm not here as a lawyer. I'm here as someone who cares deeply about the outcome, someone with no control over what happens next.Blake is already inside with Thompson when I arrive. He's wearing a suit that hangs slightly loose on him, he's lost weight over the past month, stress eating away at him literally and figuratively.His ankle monitor is visible below his pant leg, a black band that marks him as someone on bail, someone dangerous enough to require electronic supervision."Jordan," Blake says when he see

JORDAN POVThompson calls me on a Tuesday afternoon while I'm in a meeting about a merger I couldn't care less about. I excuse myself and take the call in the hallway."We got Brennan's phone records," Thompson says without preamble. "And you're going to want to see this."I'm at his office within the hour, merger be damned. Blake is already there, hunched over Thompson's desk with Wes beside him, all three of them staring at spreadsheets of call logs and text message timestamps."Look at this," Thompson says when I arrive, pointing to highlighted entries. "June fifteenth, Brennan calls Sarah Chen.They talk for fourteen minutes. June seventeenth, another call, eight minutes. June nineteenth, a series of texts back and forth.""Could be innocent," I point out, playing devil's advocate. "Friends catch up.""Except look at what happens after each communication." Thompson pulls up another document, the access logs we saw before. "June sixteenth, unauthorized login to Blake's credentials

JORDAN POVBlake calls me at eleven PM, with a shaking voice. "They offered a plea deal. Six months probation for misdemeanor fraud. No jail time."I'm in bed, and I'mm almost asleep. The words jolt me fully awake. "What did you say?""I don't know what to say. That's why I'm calling you." Blake sounds wrecked. "Thompson says I have forty-eight hours to decide. After that, we go to trial.""Can I come over?""Yeah. Please."I'm dressed and out the door in five minutes, driving through empty streets to Blake's apartment. He buzzes me up immediately, and I find him on the couch surrounded by legal documents, looking like he hasn't slept in days."Talk me through it," I say, sitting beside him. "What exactly did Hartwick offer?"Blake explains the meeting, Hartwick's reasoning, Thompson's response. As he talks, I can see the weight of the decision crushing him, making it hard to breathe."What does your gut tell you?" I ask when he's finished."My gut tells me I'm innocent and I shouldn'

JORDAN POVBlake's decision to go to trial sets off a flurry of activity. Thompson kicks into high gear, assembling expert witnesses, refining arguments, preparing Blake for what's coming.I offer to help however I can, and Thompson takes me up on it, reviewing depositions, identifying weak points in the prosecution's case, and playing devil's advocate during mock cross-examinations.I've officially become part of Blake's defense team, unpaid and unauthorized but committed nonetheless. My firm still thinks I'm working on the merger.I've been phoning it in for weeks now, doing the bare minimum while dedicating most of my mental energy to Blake's case.It's unsustainable, but I don't care. Blake needs this, and I need to be useful."The prosecution's key witness is going to be the forensic accountant who traced the fraudulent transactions," Thompson explains during a strategy session in his office.Blake, Wes, and I are all present, taking notes like law students. "She's going to testi

BLAKE POVJury selection takes all day. Thompson and Hartwick take turns questioning potential jurors, trying to identify biases, gauge sympathy, and determine who might be favorable to our side or theirs. I sit at the defense table, trying to look innocent and trustworthy while strangers decide whether they're capable of impartially judging me."Juror number four seems sympathetic," Thompson whispers during a break."Works in education, mentioned having a family member wrongly accused of something. That's good for us.""What about juror seven?" I ask, nodding toward a stern-looking woman in her fifties."Retired banker. Prosecution will love her financial background, likely to trust institutional authority. I'll strike her if I can."The process is exhausting and surreal. Each potential juror is a complete stranger who will hold my fate in their hands.I try to read their expressions as they answer questions, looking for signs of openness or judgment. Most are carefully neutral, giv