Romans & histoires Ace Attorney Walkthrough

I had watched Ethan negotiate and I had watched him lose ground he didn't need to lose because he led with authority instead of patience. I never said anything. It wasn't my place. It was my place now. The email was addressed to a small property consultancy firm two streets from the Oakhaven commercial stretch. I had found them while walking home from Dr. Hartley's clinic… a narrow shopfront with clean signage and a board in the window listing recent completed deals. I had stopped and read every one. The numbers were good. The client base was varied. The deals were the kind that needed someone who could read a room and hold a line without making the other side feel like they had lost.

A minute later, she gestured toward the hallway and said, “You can head in now.” “Thank you,” I muttered in a concise manner then began to walk forward in the direction of his office. I walked straight to his office without stopping for a breather and then, overlooking all manner of courtesy, I pushed the door open without knocking. Attorney Cross looked up sharply, and as though he didn’t already know I was coming, surprise flashed in his gaze which I later deemed as just astonishment at seeing the unusual expression on my face. “Mrs Marshall.” His voice trailed off with part surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today. To what…”

He pats my head and I just nod. We both sit on the double sofa. The attorney looks terrified with Eito. Well, he is indeed scary but he is the most trustworthy and humble attorney that I have met. "So, let's start." The attorney starts and read the testament out loud. "More or less hundred of properties that I have no even idea." I mumble but enough for Eito to here. He grabs his phone and put it on his ear. "Did you hear that? Locate them, Ahkie." Eito states. I do not even notice that he is already on call with Ahkie. He plugs in his earphones and share the other for me to here.

Sebastian countered. "You don't even belong here! Are you a criminal lawyer?" Mrs. Adams challenged fiercely. "If he isn't, then what about me?" Mr. Stephen entered the boardroom, his presence commanding respect and silencing the directors. "As Mr. Pierce rightly stated, my client won't comment until a proper investigation confirms the accuracy of the news." "So, who among you is Mr. Gale's attorney?" Mr. Anthony inquired. "I am," both Sebastian and Mr. Stephen replied simultaneously.

As we approached the elevator, I felt a sense of unease. The ride up was tense. Mr. Dela Cruz stood beside me, his face a mask of determination. He had that fierce look in his eyes—the look of a father ready to do whatever it took to protect his family. When the elevator doors opened, we found ourselves in front of a glass door with a gold plaque reading "Law Offices of Timothy Greer." We stepped inside, and a receptionist with perfectly styled hair and a cool expression looked up, her gaze sharp as she took us in.

My expression didn’t change. But something inside me went cold. “…I see.” I didn’t react further. Didn’t question it. Didn’t let it show. I simply walked out of the house. The car swallowed me whole the moment I got in. Leather. Silence. Control. I called my attorney before I even pulled fully into traffic. “Are the documents ready?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “Everything is prepared.” “Good. I’ll be at your office by ten.” There was a pause.

Like I'm doomed to be this asshole of a man forever. The door opens and the mediator walks in the room before I can continue my self-psychoanalysis. My attorney, a guy by the name of Ronald Weaver, exchanges pleasantries with him before they sit down and we begin the tedious process of dividing all the assets Mariana and I have.

But his presence is constant, eyes tracking me, checking my breathing, silently counting my stress like a medic counts blood loss. At 2:30, my attorney calls to confirm the meeting logistics. We shift from “prep” into “performance.” Dawson grabs his keys without speaking. I grab my binder and try not to feel ridiculous carrying my life in a folder. The law office smells like carpet cleaner and quiet power. My attorney, Ms. Sato is all sharp intelligence and controlled warmth. She doesn’t waste time on comforting lies. She flips through my documents with swift precision, pausing only when something matters.

~ At her Attorney Office ~ Rebecca Torres's office smelled like lemon polish and expensive leather. Vases of fresh-cut flowers perched on minimalist tables—a deliberate softness in an otherwise sharp environment. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Manhattan's skyline, a reminder of how high the stakes were in this city. I fidgeted with my wedding ring—still on my finger despite everything. Old habits. "Tell me everything," Rebecca said, her dark eyes assessing me over tortoiseshell glasses. "And I mean everything, Aria. The Waltons have already assembled their legal team."

Rummaging through her bag, she procures a thin, white complimentary card, sliding it over my desk. Picking it up, I ran my hands over the texture. It was smooth but had gold detailing, announcing class. The name on the card was in big, black block letters. Sam Kinney, Senior Partner at Kinney & Pearson. “Who's this?” I asked, flipping the card to the other side. “My attorney.” She replies. “He's one of the best in New York and he'll make sure that he wins this thing without fuss. But I've gotta warn you, though, he's not exactly cheap.”