Page 78 of You, Only You

The silence stretched. Then he nodded, something loosening in his expression.

"Okay." The word came out softer than I expected. "Okay. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not walking away." He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me with a weariness that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. "For calling me out instead of just leaving."

I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere. I meant it."

"Even when I'm being an overbearing ass?"

"Especially then." I smiled against his shirt. "Someone has to keep you honest."

We stood like that for a long time, two people learning how to be terrified together instead of letting fear push them apart. It wasn't fixed. It wasn't perfect. But it was worth the effort. Real, messy, and necessary work. We weren’t backing down.

His phone buzzed. He reached for it automatically, then stopped.

"Go ahead," I said. "It might be important."

He checked the screen. I watched his expression shift from guarded to something darker.

"What is it?"

"Text from Bates." His expression shifted. "Reeves's lawyers filed an emergency motion. They're claiming prosecutorial misconduct. Demanding all charges be dismissed."

My stomach dropped. "On what grounds?"

"Improper evidence gathering. Specifically, they're arguing that the financial records we obtained were accessed without proper authorization." He looked up at me, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "They're coming after the foundation of the entire case, Lindsey. They're trying to make everything you found inadmissible."

The warmth of our reconciliation evaporated, replaced by cold dread. If the evidence was thrown out, if everything I'd documented was ruled inadmissible, Reeves would walk. All of it would have been for nothing.

"When's the hearing?"

"Tomorrow morning. 9 AM." Will pocketed his phone, his expression settling into the focused intensity I recognized from the early days of our partnership. "Chen wants us there. Both of us."

I straightened, pulling back from his arms. The fear was still there, coiled in my chest, but it was joined now by something fiercer.

"Then we'll be there."

"Together?"

I met his eyes. "Together."

But as we began preparing for whatever tomorrow would bring, I couldn't shake the image of Reeves in that courtroom, his dismissive assessment, his private smile, his absolute confidence that men like him always won.

He thought he was untouchable. He thought we were rounding errors to be corrected.

Tomorrow, we'd show him how wrong he was.

18.Will

Ihad spent seven years learning to control courtrooms, the rhythm of questions, the weight of silence, the precise moment to strike. None of it prepared me for sitting in the witness chair while a man I'd never met systematically dismantled everything I'd built.

The defense had saved me for last. A calculated move; let the jury grow weary, let the evidence blur, then give them a villain to focus on. Marcus Caldwell, lead counsel for Victor Reeves, approached the stand with the unhurried confidence of a man who'd already won.

"Mr. Steele." His voice was pleasant, almost collegial. "You've built quite a reputation in this city, haven't you?"

"I've built a successful law practice."