Ace Attorney Online Novels & Stories

I’m already overwhelmed just being in his presence. “It’s a lot,” Craig mutters in agreement. “Can you enlighten me?” Taylor’s tone holds an edge to it, but I guess he’s used to people jumping to answer him quickly. “You have attorneys in almost every field. The firm is massive.” “Yes. Mace and I wanted to be able to handle anything a client might need. From a criminal case to divorce or simple traffic tickets. Why would I want to send business elsewhere when I could hire lawyers to do those things here?”

"Absolutely not." I was halfway home when the idea hit me. I yanked the wheel to the right so suddenly the car behind me laid on the horn. I didn't care. There was a place I had seen online. A hub for independent attorneys. Small practices. Solo operators. Lawyers who worked outside the influence of the big firms. If I could find just one attorney who wasn't terrified of the Whitmore name, I wouldn't need Leo at all. The building was smaller than I expected. Older. The kind of place where paint peeled at the corners and the elevator groaned when it moved.

Was that where the little girl came from? But if she was married, a tiny voice reminded me, she would no longer be Miss. Townsend. That final thought filled my heart with a sliver of relief. Regardless, the math didn't add up. I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying across the screen as I dialed the official phone number for the Texas law firm's main headquarters in Austin. It was late, but their executive helpline was always active. "Austin Corporate Legal, how can I direct your call?" a female voice answered.

Mara The call came from Thomas Reeve's attorney on Wednesday morning. Not Ellsworth and Park. Not Keane. A different attorney, a name I didn't recognize, a Z City firm that specialized in private estate mediation. Patricia forwarded the message with a single annotation: This is not Ellsworth and Park's firm. I read the message twice. Thomas Reeve, the administrator of Westport Capital Holdings, requested a private conversation. Not a formal proceeding. Not a mediated session with both legal teams present. A conversation, specifically with me, through his own attorney, separate from the Ellsworth and Park coordination.

She had gotten lost in her thoughts and toasted the bread for too long. Dimitri let out a sigh. "My brother has briefly updated me on your issues. You would do well to sue Caleb Walton for fraud and deceit." He then handed her a stack of name cards. ’Apex Law Firm’ ’LWM Legal Advice’ ’Regal Law Associates’ This time, Amelia choked for a different reason. "These are... lawyers?" "Of course. Do you think I would carry around a stack of name cards for janitors?" Dimitri replied, as though she had asked a foolish question. Amelia flushed in embarrassment.

The lawyer my mom hired arrived quickly, dressed in a sleek black business suit and towering heels, exuding an imposing presence. I recognized her. She was a famous top-tier lawyer in Ashton City, known for handling high-profile inheritance and divorce cases. People usually had to book her services a year in advance. However, my mom had overreacted. I did not need a cent from the Roberts family in our divorce, so there was no need to bring such a renowned lawyer. My mom was likely venting her anger on my behalf.

"Maybe it's Daddy. I told you, Mommy, Daddy won't leave us!" I chased Reid across the gate. He already opened the gate and the woman in formal attire was standing there. She’s wearing a skirt and coat. She adjusted her glasses and sniffed. "Who are you?" "Good morning, Miss Melissa Quizon. I'm Fritzie Faye Angeles. Mister Wright Agoncillio's lawyer." Seriously and coldly she says. "Can I talk to you, please?" "About what?" "May I come in? This is confidential."She says formally.

His hair was a distinguished silver-grey, perfectly groomed, and he carried a briefcase that looked older and wiser than I was. He sat down opposite me, placing the briefcase on the table with a soft, precise click. He looked at me with an expression of professional assessment, like a mechanic inspecting a faulty engine. ‘Who are you?’ I asked. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Galloway. My name is George Bayley. I am a senior partner at Jefferson, Cole & Bayley. I am here to represent you.’ I blinked. ‘I didn’t hire you.’ ‘No,’ he agreed, his tone smooth as aged whisky. ‘My services have been retained on your behalf by a third party.’

Maybe two more weeks before my credit cards maxed out. Then what? I found a divorce lawyer through an online search, Patricia. Her website photo showed competent eyes and an expensive suit. Her office was downtown, all glass and steel. The receptionist gave me a tight smile when I checked in, like she could smell the desperation. Patricia was in her forties, sharp-eyed and sharper-dressed. She shook my hand firmly. "Tell me everything." I did. The whole sordid story spilled out about Damien and Tessa, the papers, the social media campaign painting me as the villain. She took notes, her expression never changing.

He calms enough to ask, “So what do you want me to do?” I lift my chin. “we need to look through all the paperwork, my stocks, my options in his company, my stock portfolios with Grandma’s companies and subsidiaries, my own business subsidiaries, my LLCs. I need to know what’s protected. What he can and can’t touch. And I need a good divorce attorney.” “Say no more,” Marty says. “I’m sending you to Tracy Maxwell. She’s the best divorce attorney on this side of the country. She's a pit bull, bulldog, and gremlin all rolled into one.”