Wait, Lucas Reed? You’re that Lucas Reed? You worked for Blackwell and Associates. You defended that pharmaceutical case, the Bennett version Northstar litigation. Yes, your honor. Murmurs rippled through the gallery. The Bennett case had been major news 7 years ago. a class action lawsuit against a pharmaceutical company accused of hiding dangerous side effects.

Lucas had been part of the defense team, a rising star being groomed for partner. They’d won, though the victory had been complicated in ways the public never knew. Richard Hail’s expression had shifted from contempt to something more calculating. I remember that case that you were Blackwell’s golden boy, then you vanished.

Rumor was you couldn’t handle the pressure. Lucas felt the old anger flicker, pushed it down. Rumor was wrong. I left for personal reasons that I’m not going to discuss in open court. But you’ve been working as a janitor, Hail pressed. A carpenter for 6 years. You expect us to believe you’re prepared to jump back into litigation in a case this complex? I expect you to respect the fact that Miss Moore has the right to choose her own attorney.

Whether that’s me or someone else is her decision, not yours. Lucas turned to Evelyn. She was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Surprised certainly, but also something that looked like hope mixed with skepticism. “Miss Moore,” Judge Chen said, “are you seriously considering this.” Evelyn stood slowly. “Your honor, may I have a moment to speak with Mr.

Reed privately?” “You may not. If you’re going to make this decision, make it now. I’m not continuing this circus.” Evelyn looked at Lucas for a long moment. He could see her weighing impossible options. A janitor turned carpenter who claimed to be a lawyer versus representing herself against one of the most powerful corporate firms in the state versus trying to find new counsel in 7 days when her previous attorney had just publicly declared her case unwinable.

“What kind of law did you practice?” she asked. “Corporate litigation, contract disputes, intellectual property, corporate governance. How long? 5 years at Blackwell and Associates. Before that, two years as a public defender. Why did you leave? The question hung in the air. Lucas could feel everyone waiting for his answer.

He thought about lying or deflecting or giving the kind of vague non-answer attorneys specialized in. Instead, he told the truth. My wife died in a car accident. I had a six-year-old daughter who needed her father to be present, not billing 80 hours a week and sleeping in hotel rooms, so I chose her. I don’t regret it. Something in Evelyn’s face softened.

You gave up your career to be a parent. I gave up one career, found another one that let me be both. And now you have a daughter who still needs you. Why step back into this? That was the real question, wasn’t it? Lucas had asked himself the same thing in the split second before he’d opened his mouth.

Why risk the careful balance he’d built? Why dive back into the world of stress and conflict he’d worked so hard to leave behind? He thought about Nah, 12 years old now, smart and kind, and everything her mother had been. He thought about the conversation they’d had just last week when she’d asked him why he cleaned buildings instead of being a lawyer like he used to be.

because you wanted to be with me,” she’d answered her own question. “I know, Dad, and I’m glad you did. But I’m not six anymore. And sometimes I think you gave up something you loved because you thought you had to choose. Maybe you don’t have to choose anymore.” Lucas looked at Evelyn, really looked at her, and saw something he recognized, someone fighting for something that mattered, being crushed by people with more power and fewer scruples.

He’d walked away from that world because it had cost him too much. But maybe walking away didn’t have to be permanent. Because he said finally, I heard what you said about Meridian Solutions trying to take your technology, about them trying to force you into silence. I spent 5 years defending corporations that did exactly that kind of thing.

I was good at it, maybe too good. When I walked away, I told myself I was done with that world. But watching you sit there alone facing people who are trying to destroy something you built to help people. I can’t just stand by and do nothing. You don’t know me, Evelyn said. You don’t know my case.

For all you know, everything they’re saying about me is true. Is it? No. Then that’s all I need to know. Richard Hail laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. Your honor, this is absurd. A carpenter who hasn’t practiced law in 6 years wants to defend against charges of intellectual property theft, fraud, and breach of contract.

He’ll be slaughtered. This isn’t kindness. It’s professional suicide, and it’s setting Ms. Moore up for an even worse fall. Maybe, Lucas said, or maybe I remember how to do this better than you think. Your honor, Hill continued, I move that you reject this arrangement. Mr. Reed is clearly not prepared to offer competent representation.

Allowing him to proceed would be a disservice to justice itself. Judge Chen had been silent through this exchange, her expression unreadable. Now she leaned forward, looking from Lucas to Evelyn and back again. Mr. Reed, I’m going to be blunt with you. Mr. Hail is right. You’re rusty. You’ll be facing one of the best corporate litigators in the state, backed by unlimited resources.

Even if you reactivate your license today, you’ll have less than a week to familiarize yourself with eight months of case history, depositions, evidence, and motions. The odds of you providing effective counsel are minimal. I understand, your honor. Do you? Because if you fail, and statistically you will fail, Ms.

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