Attorney Novels & Stories

I looked up and saw a plump officer with a hideous mustache standing in the doorway. "Your lawyer's here to see you," he said. "Let's go." I followed him to a bleak private room where my attorney sat with a file folder. I sat down and rested my cuffed hands on the table. "I have to say, orange is not your color, Brown." I looked up my attorney with a flat look. I was ready to get the fuck out of here. I didn't have the energy or patience for goddamn jokes. "Okay," he sighed. "What do I need to know?"

she hesitated, looking at Tita Ingrid. “By the way, this is Attorney Samora, my personal attorney,” I introduced Attorney Samora, who was smiling beside me. "This meeting won’t take long. I promise you that, El Sandra.” Tita Ingrid cleared her throat and said anxiously, “ A-alright. This is fine, El Sandra. You still have more time for your flight.” They looked at each other. El Sandra couldn’t take her eyes off her mother. Tita Ingrid smiled, as if she knew what I had come here for with my personal attorney.

He seemed to realise the effect of his words on me and he immediately asked for apology. "Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez, I think we're ready to walk into the court. It's almost the time." Our attorney, Mr. Rasool, a famous attorney of the state who never lost a case in his twenty five years of career informed us. I glanced up at Dominic who gave me an assuring nod of his head. "I am ready." I said taking a deep breath. I couldn't run any longer from this reality waiting for me with open arms.

The door opened again. It was my lawyer who walked in dressed in a black suit, holding his briefcase “Good evening,” he said politely. He looked at me and nodded. “Mr. Jacobs.” Then he turned to the officer. “I’m Barrister Anderson, Mr. Jacobs’ legal representative.” “Please, have a seat,” the officer said. The lawyer sat beside me. “My apologies for the delay, Mr. Jacobs,” he said quietly. “I had a court hearing and my phone was on silent. I came here immediately after seeing your message.”

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.

Better to just show up and let it be what it was. My attorney Tobias met me in the lobby of her building at nine fifty. She was a small woman in her late fifties with very straight posture and the particular stillness of someone who had spent thirty years in rooms where composure was the only currency that mattered. She shook my hand, asked if I had eaten, and when I said yes she nodded like she was checking something off a list. “It will take less than twenty minutes,” she said. “Sign, witness, file. Then it’s done.”

Then she turned on James’s attorney. “And you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have any professional ethics at all? You’ll twist anything as long as someone pays you enough?” She gave him a disgusted look. “You’re an embarrassment to the profession.” The attorney had been hired by James, and naturally, his first instinct was to defend both himself and his client. But before he could respond, James stopped him with a raised hand. “Go.” The attorney hesitated, then left. James turned back to Nina and Jane.

It was the exact kind of place you’d walk right past without really noticing unless you were specifically looking for it,I found myself wondering if that was entirely the point whether the people who came here preferred it that way, choosing a door that didn’t announce itself to the world, I was officially one of those people now. The attorney who saw me was young, likely in his late twenties, with that deeply tired look that doesn’t come from age but from carrying too many cases at once while still managing to care about all of them . His name was Marcus Webb. By ten in the morning, he already had a yellow legal pad half-filled,he listened to my story without

“Who the fuck are you, her bodyguard? You a cop or something?” I keep my tone even, draining all the emotion out of it until I sound like I’m delivering a closing argument. “Associate at Harlan & Pierce. That makes me a lawyer. And,” I gesture slightly toward Megan, “so is she. We bill by the hour, and right now, you’re racking up a debt you can’t pay.”

I inhaled a large breath before I typed a reply on my phone. To: Atty. Salliente I'm busy. I lied. I did not wait for his reply and turned off my phone so I can watch N*****x without distraction. That Lawyer keep on pursuing me to date him but I always reject him. I'm not into relationship so why would I date that Attorney? I already told him about that but he didn't stop. The problem isn't mine anymore. "I'm home!" I stood up to help Venus with the groceries. We put that on the breakfast table and arranged it to the fridge.