Lincoln Lawyer Book 7 Novels & Stories

"Mrs. Chaney, don't worry. Isn't Ms. Houston back intact? Ms. Houston, Mrs. Chaney was so worried about you." I knew this young lady. She was Jeffrey's secretary. Joanna Wyatt was a beautiful blonde, wearing the simplest and plainest turtleneck sweater and jeans. There was a beautiful rose gold necklace hanging around her neck. I was "intact". Joanna’s words made me become the Chaney family’s ungrateful daughter. In fact, I was a victim. Helen held my hand, crying. Joanna on the side comforted her. But I could not cry. I looked at Jeffrey. From his eyes, I could see annoyance.

Zaweel nodded, although he has a mouth that likes to talk, but his secret matters are good at hiding them. "Oh yeah, what do you mean by being a lawyer, is that really?" Haziya asked reassuringly, brushing off any doubts after seeing the business card. Since morning meeting with Zaweel, accompanying him to the tutoring house to Polem's place, and at the gas station it was impossible for Zaweel to prepare the play by printing a business card just to save him. "Like I said, I'll be your lawyer."

He looked at Arabella, and being someone good at reading people’s facial expressions and body language, he asked, “Miss Arabella, when will your lawyer arrive?” Arabella whispered as she said through her dry lips, “Soon.” Robin had just called her back, saying that his lawyer friend was on his way and should be there soon. Still impatient, President Linde kept looking at the watch on his wrist. His lawyer said, “Why don’t you go back first and leave everything to me?” “Sounds good.” President Linde stood up, wearing the clean clothes his assistant had brought over earlier. He now looked imposing again, save for the wound on his forehead that had been given first aid.

After Rome let go of Charles's hand, he scowled at Rome and then stared at the bruise on his skin. Ignoring the look of anger on his face, Rome approached Catherine and then stopped a foot away from her. With a hint of remorse in her eyes, Catherine hastily said, "I'm sorry for pulling you away from…" "It's okay. You don't have to be sorry." Rome said, gazing into her eyes as he took her hands in his. "Lincoln is here. He's my father's lawyer. The best in the field, and he's going to help us figure this out."

“Are you trying to rebel on us, huh, Lincoln? Are you using Sheen to get the company from us?” “That’s not true!” Well, that’s actually kinda true. Lincoln cringed internally for lying. “What this is all about, Lincoln? When did you start thinking like this? Did that make you like this?” Lincoln can’t take it anymore. “It wasn’t mine!” There was silence for a moment before Mrs. Vega spoke again. “What do you mean?” “The sketchbook,” Lincoln glanced at it, “It wasn’t mine. It was Sheen’s.” Mrs. Vega scoffed. “And you’re actually think I would believe you—”

Jack’s lawyer said and dropped about ten paged document on the center table for me. “What is that?” I asked. “Go ahead and take a look at them” He replied. I took the document from the table as he had instructed, I read the first page of the book, then the second and the third. I was about flipping to the fourth page when I broke into tears, uncontrollable tears. There I was, thinking that my life was about to get better, but little did I know that the suffering was just about to start. “I’m sorry Miss Lily but my client insisted that…”

“You’re abetting your mother’s killer! And you put that poor girl in a coma. What did you do to her? Did you force her to break up with Nathan? Did you hit her when she found out about the phone?” WHACK! Lincoln punches Nelson hard. The man falls to the ground and a phone slips out of his pocket. Lincoln steps on Nelson’s hand and presses it hard, making the old man cry. “STOP IT!” Anita yells. “HE’S YOUR COACH! YOUR TEACHER! STOP IT-” A guard punches her as well. Lincoln picks up the phone, ignoring Nelson’s cries. He goes through the content of the phone. It seems to have all of Charlotte’s information. This is her phone.

The lawyer walks away. But it wasn’t. I leaned back and stared at the ceiling, letting the memories of the courtroom wash over me. Her lawyer's voice cut through everything, calm and controlled, steady even when Samuel Drake tried to tear him apart piece by piece. I had watched that man destroy people on the news, careers and lives. He never lost like that. Yet Ms. Quinn's lawyer stood there, unshaken, turning the case around with precision that felt almost personal. He deserves an accolade too.

“Please, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable,” I say, motioning toward the couch as I close the door behind them with a soft click. My eyes linger briefly on her companion. Alan had mentioned she hired an attorney named Lincoln—Lincoln Law, splashed across the local paper more than once. I would’ve recognized him immediately. This man is definitely not Lincoln. So who is he? A protector, perhaps. A friend. Or something more personal.