Cerita Pendek Plot Twists Romance & Novel Lawyer

During interviews, Ashley Freeman always smiles when she says that I'm the man behind her success. She claims that it is only through my support that she has become queen of the courtroom. Now, I have just secured the final cross-border merger for her. Her firm will officially rank among the global elite the moment this contract is signed. I rush to the airport carrying the merger documents, preparing to board my private plane and fly out to Tedlar Street to seal the deal, but I am stopped at the boarding gate. "Ms. Freeman gave strict orders. She's taking Mr. Luke and Mr. Collins to Swakosland for a vacation today. No outsiders are allowed on board." "Outsiders". The word leaves me briefly speechless. Through the door of the VIP lounge, I spot Ashley sitting inside. She cradles a three-year-old boy in her arms, while Eddie Collins, her first love from college, sits right beside her. The boy snuggles in her chest, his tiny hands clutching the lapel of her coat. He looks so familiar and comfortable with her, as if he has been held this way from the day he was born. "Mommy! Daddy said the three of us will fly on a giant plane to see the snow!" Ashley doesn't correct him. Instead, she kisses his cheek with such gentleness that she feels like a stranger to me. "That's right, sweetie. Are you happy?" The three of them lean in close to one another, looking like the picture-perfect family. After staring at them for a long time, I let out a soft, low chuckle and dial a number on my phone. "Pull every authorization and funding agreement I've ever signed for Ashley in the last ten years." Since she believes she already has everything, I'll destroy everything I've spent the last decade building for her.

My sister, Vivian Richmond, is celebrating her birthday with the rest of the family while I lie trapped in an abandoned factory, bleeding heavily. She's hired four thugs to torture me, and they've left me fighting for my life. I crawl toward my phone with what little strength I have left. When I finally reach it, I call my husband, Ethan Monroe. "Ethan, I'm seriously injured. Come save me now… I'm at the factory nearby. It won't take much of your time…" He scoffs at my weak, desperate voice. "Sienna, whining won't get you anywhere. Are you playing the victim now?" he says. "You'll stop at nothing to ruin Vivian's birthday party, huh? Hurry back with a gift and apologize to her, or I won't go easy on you this time." Before I can speak, I hear Vivian calling his name over the line. Ethan has no idea that the moment the call ends, I no longer need his forgiveness. He doesn't know that the foul, rotting corpse that makes even an experienced forensic pathologist like him recoil in disgust belongs to the wife he's hated for years.

The year I became one of the country's top defense attorneys, I received a case request from my ex-boyfriend, Julian Sterling. We'd loved each other for four years, yet I couldn't marry him, couldn't have children with him, and couldn't even meet his family. All because the Sterling family had a rule: whoever cast nine blessed oracle blocks in a row would be the daughter-in-law recognized by their ancestors. I begged for that blessing a thousand times. Every cast came back cold. Everyone in Harbor City laughed and said I was born without the fortune to marry into wealth. Then my adopted sister returned from overseas, casually cast nine blessed blocks, and became engaged to Julian Sterling. At last, he told me the truth. "I weighted those oracle blocks with lead. No matter how many times you cast them, they were never going to bless you. "Celia had a difficult background. I had to do this to win her the dignity and status she deserved." So the humiliation I endured for four years had all been his way of paving a road for another woman. On the day of the Sterling family's century wedding, I left Harbor City for Capital City and joined a law firm. Now I was a top attorney with a perfect win rate. Julian Sterling, trapped in a legal crisis, sat across from me and pushed over a check. "You're the only one who can win this case. "Take it, and fifty million is yours." I gave a soft laugh. Then I opened my drawer, took out a pair of oracle blocks, and set them in front of him. "The Sterling family has Sterling rules. I have mine. "If you can cast nine blessed blocks in a row, I'll take your case."

My boyfriend, Terry Bolton, comes from a rich family. He has a female childhood friend. Everyone said they were a match made in heaven, but he swore he only loved me and Sarah Horst was just his simp. He asked her to buy us condoms in the rain, but when he saw her soaking wet, he kicked me out. "Why did you take so long to open the door? You know she gets sick easily." My graduation thesis was ruined by Sarah's clumsiness. I asked her to apologize, but he yelled at me. "She's just a little clumsy. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" In the four years that I dated him, I endured again and again until, one day, a DUI hit-and-run case made headlines. Terry kicked my door open while hugging the distressed Sarah. "If you take the blame for her, I'll find the best doctors from all over the world for your mother. After all, you still have me, but if she goes to prison, her life is ruined." Looking at his anxious face, I chuckled. Did he forget that I'm a Harvard law graduate? Screw this relationship. I decided not to endure it anymore. She's going to prison for sure.

Dad's foreman is withholding his wages, leaving him no choice but to travel into the city to find a lawyer and file a lawsuit. Unfamiliar with how elevators work, he stubbornly climbs 20 flights of stairs before walking into the law firm, clutching a crumpled contract. "Clem, can you take a look at this? My boss owes us 120 grand. What should I do?" As the founder of Hawthorne Law Partners, Clement Hawthorne has fought cases for countless stray cats and dogs. Yet, right now, all he cares about is helping his law firm's newest intern, Reina Ellington, revise her graduation thesis. "120 grand isn't even enough to cover my retainer fee. I'm sorry, but I can't take this case." His cold, dismissive words cause Dad's back, which is already bent under the weight of steel and concrete, to slump even further. "I-In that case, I'll get out of your hair…" He slowly gathers his documents and stuffs them back into his canvas bag. When he turns to leave, even his footsteps carry a cautious, apologetic air. My nose stings, and tears well up in my eyes. I rise from my seat, ready to storm over and demand an explanation from Clement. However, Dad grasps my hand. "I'm fine, Cece. Clem has his principles. Don't hold it against him." The tears I've been keeping at bay finally spill over. I stand rooted to the spot, watching Dad's hunched figure shuffle toward the door, one agonizing step at a time. The moment the door closes behind him, I suddenly realize I no longer want to be part of Clement's family.

I woke up staring at divorce papers—from the guy I'd crushed on all through college. My name. His. Right there on the page. He said I cheated. Last thing I remembered? Getting ready to finally tell him how I felt at our graduation party. Now suddenly, we've got a four-year-old. And him? He looked at me like I was some rando off the street. No trace of the sweet, soft guy I used to know. Just ice. What did I miss? What the hell happened in the last five years?

Neville had set up a special wish jar just for me. Every month, I was allowed only three draws to claim his time and attention as my husband. If I drew Dinner, he'd grace me with his presence for a brief meal, as though he were doing me some enormous favor. If I drew a blank, I wasn't even allowed to see his face. I used to tell myself that this was simply his cold, overly analytical, STEM-brained way of expressing love. That was, until Thanksgiving night, when our three-year-old daughter suffered a sudden, severe asthma attack. It left her gasping for air, her lips turning purple. I grabbed Neville by the sleeve and begged him to let me use all my remaining draws if he'd just drive us to the ER. He frowned and violently shook off my hand. "Rules are rules. Stop using our kid to guilt-trip me." Terrified and desperate, I reached into the jar for my final slip. It read: "Don't disturb each other today." Relief washed visibly over his face. Without even glancing at our daughter, he grabbed his car keys and walked out. When our daughter's condition had stabilized, I stood alone at the hospital billing desk with her in my arms. That was when I spotted Neville in a VIP treatment suite in the ER. He was gently pressing an ice pack against his assistant's knee, which had barely a scrape on it. The girl blushed and cooed, "Mr. Murphy, I didn't even have to draw a slip. Why would you take time off work just to stay with me?" Neville's expression softened with a rare tenderness. "The wish jar is meant to keep ordinary people in line. You have unrestricted VIP access." I held our trembling daughter and struggled to keep my tears from falling. It turned out that only the unloved had to leave their happiness to chance. I turned around, tossed the wish jar straight into the trash, and called my lawyer to draw up a divorce agreement.

For eight years, Damian Caruso kept me as his secret wife. I handled his family's lawsuits, protected his empire, and raised the son he refused to acknowledge in public. Ethan wasn't even allowed to call him Dad when anyone else was around. I told myself Damian had his reasons. Until our son's seventh birthday. Damian promised he would come home. Ethan waited beside an untouched birthday cake until nearly midnight. Damian never showed. Because Sofia Bellini—the childhood friend everyone already treated as Damian's real woman—had the same birthday. And Damian had chosen hers. That night, I stopped waiting. I signed the divorce papers. The next morning, Damian was in such a hurry to rescue Sofia that he signed the documents I placed in front of him without even reading them. He didn't realize he had just given me permission to take Ethan out of New York. Then he moved Sofia into our home—and asked his wife and son to leave so she wouldn't discover we existed. Ethan looked at the father he had spent seven years trying to love and called him "Mr. Caruso." Damian finally looked shaken. But it was already too late. On the day we left, he told me he had to fly abroad to handle a divorce case for a client. I said nothing. Because that divorce case was mine. He was flying across the ocean to finalize the end of our marriage—and he still thought I was just taking our son out of town for a few days.

I'm a family law attorney. My specialty is winning divorce cases for other people. I never imagined that one day, I'd be drafting my own divorce papers. For six years of marriage, Adrian read to me for ten minutes every night. He said it was our little marriage ritual. That was until I came home early from a business trip and heard his voice coming from my female neighbor’s apartment next door. "Vivi, which chapter do you want to hear tonight?" I stood outside her door, still holding the birthday cake I'd bought for him. I turned around, went home, opened my laptop, and went through our marital asset inventory from top to bottom. Later, Adrian knelt outside my law firm, his voice so hoarse it was barely recognizable. He said, "Serena, I was just helping her fall asleep. I never touched her." I set the voice recorder in front of him, and out came words he'd said himself. "She'll never leave me. She's too rational, which actually makes her the easiest to manipulate." I smiled. "Adrian, do you think the judge will find me easy to manipulate too?"

My father is seriously injured while working at a construction site, but because he never signed an employment contract, his employer refuses to compensate him. Desperate, I contact my fiancee, Sabrina Voss, a highly sought-after attorney, and beg her to take my father's case. She coldly tells me she's overwhelmed with other cases and doesn't have time, leaving me with no choice but to seek legal aid. But on the day of the hearing, I'm stunned to see Sabrina walk into the courtroom in a tailored suit, representing my father's employer. She expertly cites one law after another, mercilessly challenging every claim we make. While I spend every day worrying about my father's condition and the lawsuit, I come across a post on social media that stops me cold. Sabrina's junior associate, Rowan Mercer, is showing off a brand-new luxury watch with the caption, "Thanks to my favorite person for spending that 100-thousand-dollar legal fee on my gift. This case was definitely worth it." It turns out Sabrina took the money she earned defending my father's employer and used it to buy Rowan an expensive watch. Whatever I still feel for her dies in that moment. I take off my engagement ring, drop it into the trash, then like Rowan's post and leave a comment. "Glad you're happy."

Back in the day, in the legal world, Finn Cross and I were the top dogs. Untouchable. He ran New York, a king in criminal defense, never lost a case. I held down Boston, crushing it in civil court. People in the biz used to say it was a good thing we weren't in the same city. If we were, we’d have gone head-to-head, and it was anyone's guess who'd come out on top. But they never would've guessed. Three years ago, I, Victoria Sterling, quietly married Finn Cross. And just like that, the legend of "Vicky" was locked away. I was willing to leave my career behind, to be the quiet, supportive woman behind the great man. I made his coffee, went with him to all sorts of events, and left a light on for him when he came home late. But when Elena, the one he’d always carried a torch for, showed up again, I couldn't keep up this charade anymore.