All Chapters of Dealing with Mr fucking right.: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Joe's POV The text came at 11:47 on a Tuesday night.Joe, I can't do this anymore. Don't call me again.I read it three times. Then I threw my phone across the room.Fuck him. Fuck them all It hit the wall and cracked the screen, and I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore.Marcus Bennett had been my friend for fifteen years. Fifteen years. We had met in college, drunk and stupid and convinced we were going to conquer the world together. He was the best man at my damn wedding. He had stood beside me while I said vows to Clara that I never meant, and he had never said a word, never judged me, never looked at me with anything but that same easy smile he had worn since we were twenty years old.And now he was gone. Fuck.I poured myself another drink. The whiskey was cheap now, not the expensive single malt I used to keep in crystal decanters. I couldn't afford the good stuff anymore. I couldn't afford anything anymore.The phone call had been bad. Marcus had called me earl

Clara's POV I woke before dawn.The penthouse was still dark, the city outside the windows a scatter of distant lights, and Cameron was asleep beside me, one arm thrown over his head, his breathing slow and deep. I lay still for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest, and then I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could.My feet were bare on the cold floor. I found his button-down shirt draped over the chair where I had left it last night and pulled it on, the fabric falling to my thighs, and then I padded down the hallway to the sitting room.The watercolors were on the table where I had left them.I had been staring at the blank paper for three days.Three days of nothing.Every time I picked up the brush, my hand froze. The colors I mixed turned to mud. The shapes I tried to form dissolved before they became anything real. I had told myself it was because of the stress, the divorce, the threats, the festival deadline pressing on my chest like a weight.But lying in bed l

Clara's POVThe car was suffocating.Cameron drove with both hands on the wheel, his knuckles white and his jaw tight. Every few seconds his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking, watching and making sure we weren't being followed. Emma sat in the back with Bryan, her arm around him, her voice unnaturally bright as she talked about ice cream flavors and whether sprinkles were scientifically proven to make dessert taste better.Bryan was oblivious. Thank God.I sat in the passenger seat and stared at the dashboard and tried to breathe.The man with the phone. The way he had stood so still. The way he had walked away the moment Cameron noticed him.Joe knew where we were. He knew where Emma lived. He knew where Cameron coached. He knew everything.And I had led him right to them.******We pulled up outside Emma's house."Bryan, go inside and wash your hands," Emma said, her voice still too bright. "I'll be right in.""Okay, Mom." Bryan unbuckled and climbed out, then leaned bac

Joe's POVThe email came on a Thursday morning.I was in the kitchen, eating stale cereal out of the box because I had forgotten to buy milk and I didn't have the energy to go to the store. My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at it, expecting another text from a reporter or another notification about the hashtag or another reminder that my life was over.It was from my new lawyer.Joe, we need to talk. Call me.I called him."Harold," I said. "What's going on?"There was a pause on the other end of the line. A long pause. The kind of pause that preceded bad news, the kind of pause that said I'm sorry before the words ever left someone's mouth."I can't represent you anymore, Joe."The words landed like a punch to the gut."What do you mean you can't represent me anymore?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You're my lawyer. I pay you. You don't get to just quit.""I'm not quitting." Harold's voice was calm, professional, and infuriating. "I'm withdrawing from your case.

Clara's POVThe call came at six in the evening.I was in Cameron's kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta that I wasn't going to eat, when my phone buzzed on the counter. Daniel's name lit up the screen. I wiped my hands on a towel and answered."Daniel. What's going on?"His voice was careful. That was the first sign that something was wrong. Daniel was never careful, he was direct, blunt, the kind of lawyer who told you exactly what you needed to hear whether you wanted to hear it or not.But tonight, he was careful."They questioned Joe today," he said. "The feds brought him in."My heart stopped. "And?""And they released him."The kitchen tilted. I reached out and gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself."Released him?" My voice came out high and thin. "What do you mean, released him? He laundered money. He stalked me. He had Bryan taken. How can they just let him go?""They don't have enough to hold him yet." Daniel sighed. "The witness hasn't testified. Some of the evidence