Attorney Novels & Stories

Attila was skilled and wouldn't waste time on discussions that would go nowhere. "Business? I have no business with you! In fact, I kicked your ass out of this company when Antonia's father died. That gave me great pleasure!" Lionel laughed, mocking Attila, who didn't even flinch. "Yes, back then you dispensed with my services. Your loss! Now, you can't do anything. I'm here as Anabel's attorney. I'll defend her interests and make all decisions for her. Here are copies of the documents." Attila threw the documents on the table.

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.”

Her face was red with anger and embarrassment. Then she quickly dialled her attorney, who was a partially old man that lives in the province to come immediately at the hotel. After five minutes, her attorney walked inside and said, "I want to see the documents." After checking it all out, her attorney dialled some numbers and excused himself to talk on the phone. After a while her attorney gestured her to talk in another room. "Why what's wrong?" Alice asked her attorney who was sitting solemnly.

But deep in my heart, I wanted to smack her. Silly bitch! “Mrs. Smith, I understand that, but the law is quite specific on these kinds of matters,” I nodded and continued. “Now, your attorney doesn’t know some basic things like this and is about to accompany you to the states to file for the suit? That only shows one thing…” I paused, raised my gaze to her face, and chuckled. “Your attorney isn't competent enough. If he or she neglects and misses the small details, then what type of attorney can he or she be called?”

Because my attorney and PI are both idiots. The laptop screen flickers with the ongoing video call. My attorney, grey suit, slicked hair, looking like he’s already halfway done with me. Beside him, my private investigator, mid-50s, wrinkled polo, chewing gum like we’re not in the middle of damage control. “You had one job,” I snap, leaning closer to the camera. “One! Make sure the paperwork matches the story. But no, you had to let them pick holes in it.” “Paulina,” the attorney starts, tone like he’s talking to a child, “the problem isn’t the paperwork. It’s the fact that you—”

“I will send you a list of attorneys who have a solid reputation. You can review them and decide who might be the best fit for your situation.” “Thank you, Mary. I appreciate your help with this,” I said, acknowledging her support. “Of course, Claire. If you need anything else, do not hesitate to reach out,” she said, maintaining her business like tone. “I will. And thank you again for handling this discreetly,” I added before ending the call. Shortly after, an email arrived with the list of lawyers Mary had promised. Without delay, I reviewed the names, one in particular catching my attention — Atty. Graciela Humphrey. Her credentials were impressive, and her

Jack replied. Harry nodded, “What about you and Karen?” “There is nothing to talk about. She left, and I'll wait for her. I know she will come back” he replied. “Can you listen to yourself, bro? Karen left, she fucking left. I think it's high time you move on.” Harry advised. Jack scoffed, looking at Harry dead in the eyes, “I already made my decision, you can't change my mind.” “Alright then. Goodluck!” The attorney returned a few minutes past the scheduled time. He was dressed in a black cardigan over a blue shirt. He held his usual briefcase that contained documents, and his face held no smile, which Damian noted as strange.

Mary left us alone so we could talk. "Ah, if it isn't the virgin," he laughed heartily. Another fellow shuffled in behind him. He was wearing an old suit that was in dire need of a dry-clean. "This is my attorney, Mr. Wayland. He will go over the contract with you to make sure I'm not tricking you." "No need to do that, Mr. Fuller. I had already had someone review it for me." "Really?"

I didn't have the energy to argue, so I shut my phone and slipped it back into my pocket. The living room door opened, and a man in his early fifties stepped inside. His hair was thinning at the crown, and he wore an apologetic yet kind smile. He carried an eye-catching leather briefcase. "My sincere apologies for being late," he said as he moved around the room to shake hands with each of us. "I'm Gerald Whitmore, your family's estate attorney. I handle all legal matters, including wills and trusts." "You're forty minutes late." Marcus remained seated. "You've wasted my time. This better take less than two minutes. Let's get on with it."

Jim looked at the female with him and then back at me before he said, "Brittany ..." I interrupted him and said, "I prefer to be called "Britt." "OK, fair enough Britt. Britt, I'd like to introduce you to Ms. Carol Jennings. Ms. Jennings is my partner in my firm and both of us are board-certified attorneys in the state of Texas. I have been Mr. Campbell's attorney for the past twenty-five years."