Our job isn’t to prove Evelyn’s innocence in 7 days. It’s to prove that there are genuine disputes of fact that require a trial. If we can show the judge that Meridian’s claims aren’t as airtight as they pretend, she won’t grant summary judgement. That buys us time for a real trial. Evelyn leaned forward.

You really think we can do this? Lucas met her eyes. I think we have a shot. A real one. But I need to be honest. The next seven days are going to be brutal. I need to review everything in these boxes, prepare cross-examination questions, draft responsive pleadings, possibly find our own expert witness to counter Hutcherson.

That’s a lot of work for one person, especially one who’s out of practice. We’ll help,” Sarah said immediately. “I know these files inside and out. I can pull whatever you need, and I know the technology better than anyone,” Evelyn added. “I can explain any technical aspect you need to understand.” Lucas nodded. “Then we have a chance.

” “Sarah, I need you to create a comprehensive timeline, every piece of Evelyn’s research, dated and documented, from her graduate work through to the present. Include everything. Lab notes, publications, presentations, patents filed. Make it visual. We need to show the judge at a glance that this technology has a clear development path that predates Meridian.

I can have that done by tomorrow afternoon. Good. Evelyn, I need you to write up a technical explanation of what makes Aquaver different from Meridian systems. Not just that they’re different, specifically what innovations are yours. Assume the audience is intelligent but not an engineer. How long? However long it takes to be thorough. 5 pages, 10 pages, whatever.

But it needs to be airtight. Evelyn nodded. I’ve been wanting to do that for months. Brighton kept telling me it was too technical. The judges wouldn’t understand. But if you’re willing to learn the technology, I’m willing to teach it. I’m going to need to understand it anyway if we go to trial. Lucas checked his watch. 9:15.

I should get home. Nah’s probably wondering if I’m ever coming back, but I’ll be here tomorrow morning, 7 a.m., if that works. That works, Evelyn and Sarah said in unison. Lucas gathered his notes, his legal pad now covered in questions and ideas and connections. At the door, he paused.

One more thing, both of you need to think about why you believe Evelyn. Not emotionally, practically. What’s the evidence that convinced you she’s telling the truth? Sarah, you’ve worked on this case for months. You’ve seen all the documents. What made you believe in her innocence? Sarah thought for a moment. The timeline.

When you actually look at the dates, Evelyn’s research clearly came first. Meridian is trying to claim she stole ideas that she’d already published in academic journals before she ever met them. That’s not possible. The only way their case makes sense is if you ignore chronology. Good. Remember that. We’re going to make it impossible for anyone to ignore chronology. Lucas looked at Evelyn.

What about you? Why should I believe you didn’t take shortcuts with Meridian’s research? Because I didn’t need to. Evelyn’s voice was steady. I’m good at what I do, Lucas. Really good. I spent years developing this technology because I believed it could help people. I didn’t need to steal from Meridian. Their research wasn’t even in the same league as mine.

The only thing they have that I wanted was manufacturing capacity and funding. And I was willing to walk away from both rather than compromise my principles or my independence. Lucas nodded slowly. That’s what we need to show. Not just that you didn’t steal, that you didn’t need to steal. That you’re the innovator and they’re the ones playing catch-up.

He left the office, rode the elevator down, walked out into the warm night air. The industrial park was quiet. Most of the other businesses long since closed. He sat in his truck for a moment before starting it, letting the magnitude of what he’d committed to settle over him. 7 years ago, this had been his life. Intense preparation, late nights, the particular stress of high stakes litigation. He’d been good at it.

Too good, maybe. Good enough that he’d lost sight of everything else until life had forced him to step back and re-evaluate. Now he was stepping back in by choice this time. with his eyes open. His phone buzzed. A text from Nah. Dad, I know you’re working, but remember to sleep. Also, I left a sandwich in the fridge for you. Also, also, you’ve got this.

Lucas smiled, felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. This was different from before. Before, he’d lost himself in work because he didn’t know how else to handle grief and responsibility. Now he had Nah, older, smarter, his anchor and his reminder of what actually mattered. He drove home through empty streets, found Nenah already asleep, ate the sandwich she’d left for him, turkey and cheese, his favorite.

He sat at the kitchen table for a while, reviewing his notes, making lists of things to research, questions to explore. Tomorrow would be the real work. Tonight, he just needed to remember how to think like a lawyer again. It was like riding a bicycle supposedly, except this bicycle had been in storage for 6 years. And he was about to ride it in a race against someone who’d never stopped pedaling.

Lucas finally went to bed around midnight, set his alarm for 5:00 a.m., and lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. In the darkness, he could almost hear his wife’s voice. Ellen had always been the practical one, the one who could cut through his overthinking with simple clarity. You’re doing the right thing, she would have said.

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