Page 3 of Ghostly
“I know what case I’m judging, Mr. Vane,” Judge Barrett replied, her voice sharp enough no gavel was necessary.
“You also can’t claim this is me and Mrs. Sinclair. Hundreds of people live in the same building. You wouldn’t believe how many of them have dark hair.”
“The tie,” Sinclair choked out.
Anderson looked over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“His tie.” Sinclair’s voice grew in volume as he stood up and banged his fists on the table, then pointed the finger at Gabriel. “When I called my wife this morning, to the hotel room where she was supposed to stay, she didn’t answer. And his tie is done in the same way she used to do mine. She calls it the half-open lotus.”
Anderson’s minions collectively took in their breaths. Gabriel looked down at his tie, then at Sinclair, then at Anderson, then at the judge.
“Mr. Anderson, you’ll present all your evidence in required form, after the trial is concluded. I’m sure you are aware of the proper procedures.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Anderson’s smile remained as smug as before—by now, Gabriel wasn’t sure whether it got stuck—despite the fact the judge’s voice
carried no more favor toward him. “And you, Mr. Vane.” Judge Barrett bore her cold blue eyes into his. “I suggest you call on your second bench for the closing statement. And prepare evidence in your favor, if you have any. We’ll be discussing your suspension after the trial.”
Gabriel swallowed.Suspension?He looked down at the photo—him and Wynona, last night, or maybe that other night the previous week—probably not five minutes away from that half-open lotus—
“Permission to swear, Your Honor?”
Judge Barret raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Denied.”
Well, fuck.
Forty-one hours to go
“Yesterday saw the conclusion of the highest-profile case of the year,Sinclair versus Sinclair. Instead of wondering how the tech mogul is going totake the loss, the eyes of the public are fixed on Gabriel Vane, the lawyer whowon the case for Mrs. Sinclair. Vane, who many call the rock star of the legalworld, is himself involved in a scandal…”
Gabriel turned off the TV with an annoyed click and slumped on the sofa. He’d already silenced his phone—unanswered calls were piling up—and now nothing interrupted the silence of the apartment, save for his breathing. He didn’t dare close his eyes; that one photo of him and Wynona was seared onto the inside of his eyelids, mocking him, occasionally accompanied by Anderson’s laughter.
Gabriel didn’t know what was worse: that he’d behaved stupidly and sabotaged himself, or that Anderson was the one to put the final nail in the coffin. No, no, there would be no nailing. Well, not of that kind. He’d get out of this. He only slept with his client, after the case was practically closed, and Wynona and her husband had been separated for months before that. It wasn’t as if he’d committed a crime.
A knock at the door. Gabriel burrowed into the sofa and covered his head with a pillow.
“Mr. Vane? Hello? I have a package for you too big to fit into the mailbox.”
The files he was expecting on the Linden case. It felt surreal—a remnant of life before those photos saw the light of day. Gabriel rose with a sigh and threw the door open. The hallway flashed. The man—definitelynota mailman—lowered his camera. Beside him, a woman in a sharp pantsuitand with a sharper bob cut thrust a recorder into Gabriel’s face. “Mr. Vane, can you tell me anything about the Sinclair—”
“I’ve nothing to say.” Gabriel slammed the door and leaned on it.I do havesomething to say.But “screw you and screw Anderson”probably wouldn’t fly well with his bosses or the media.
Thirteen hours to go
Gabriel never thought he’d fall so low as to have to sneak to the lobby of his apartment building in the middle of the night to retrieve his mail. Crawling around like a criminal.
Which, according to a survey he didn’t want to see but accidentally had, 34% of people asked now assumed him to be.
An envelope with the Court’s stamp awaited him. Back in his apartment, Gabriel sat on the sofa, the paper already damp from the sweat on his fingers.It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.Lawyers were disbarred for serious things, such as tampering with evidence or committing fraud. It would never happen to him.
He took a deep breath, tore the envelope open, and didn’t release his breath until his eyes passed over the address, title, formal dribble and then—
Suspended.
He was suspended for six months. A small part of him, the part that always tried to find the silver lining, whispered in relief—suspension isnot disbarment, it’s temporary, you’ll make it through.But a much larger part fixated on that word, suspended, until it took the place of the photo on theinside of his eyelids and it was all he could think about, all he could see, all he was. A failure. A disgrace.
Eight hours to go
“It’s not good, Vane. They’re digging.” The phone’s speakers made his senior partner—almostpartner—Cliff’s voice raspier, but his anxiety was clear.
