Chapter 6: The Game

Two more weeks passed, and Frank never appeared again.

The courthouse settled back into its routine. Files piled up on my desk, and the world moved on. But I never forgot the look in Frank’s eyes.

I thought the matter was over.

I tried to convince myself that it was just another case. That I could move on, too.

My mentor personally came to Toledo. He booked a private room at the city’s most luxurious hotel and called over several classmates, all prominent figures in the legal and political systems.

The restaurant’s chandeliers glittered overhead. Waiters in crisp uniforms poured top-shelf bourbon and set down plates of steak and lobster. The bourbon was top shelf, but it tasted like guilt. The whole scene felt obscene after what had happened.

My mentor patted me on the shoulder, picked up the dice cup, and put it in my hand. “This is my top student. For my sake, if not for the good Lord’s, right?”

He grinned at the others, pride gleaming in his eyes. The room filled with laughter as the dice rattled in my trembling hands.

I was flattered, holding the dice cup and downing my drink, my face red as a cherry.

The bourbon burned all the way down. I laughed along, my cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and the shame.

After drinking, as usual, we played a couple of rounds of cards. I went to the bank next door to withdraw ten thousand dollars in cash.

It was an unspoken tradition. I barely registered the sound of the ATM as it spat out stacks of crisp bills. The cash felt heavy in my pocket.

“You did well this time, Jimmy.”

He clinked his glass against mine, eyes twinkling. The others nodded approvingly.

“Thirty thousand, thank you for your praise, mentor. What about the follow-up?”

The numbers floated between us, meaningless except for what they represented: loyalty, favors, secrets kept.

“Thirty thousand for a win, all the same suit. Ha, you’ll have to pay up today.”

He laughed, and the others joined in, the air thick with camaraderie and complicity.

I took three thousand dollars out of my pocket and handed it over. The ten thousand was almost gone, too.

The bills slid across the table, disappearing into his palm without a word. My stomach twisted.

“I’ve arranged it already. Let him serve a few years, give that brat a lesson. Damn troublemaker, can’t even let his parents have some peace.”

He might as well have been talking about a parking ticket, not a girl’s life. The casual cruelty of it made my skin crawl.

From my mentor’s tone, it sounded as if he were scolding a mischievous child, not a murderer.

The other men nodded, smirking. It was all a game to them—chits to be cashed, debts to be settled.

And what about Natalie? What did she do wrong?

The question echoed in my mind, louder than any laughter in the room. No one had an answer.

In that moment, I felt lost. My mentor quickly noticed.

He caught my eye, his expression hardening. “You did your job, Jimmy. That’s all anyone expects.”

“Your verdict was flawless. The death penalty is crude and outdated. What era is this, still playing the ‘life for a life’ game? Which developed country still has the death penalty?”

He spoke with conviction, as if he were reciting a lecture. The others murmured their approval, raising their glasses in agreement.

“If you ask me, it’s that little girl who didn’t know better. Her hands were already cuffed, and she still resisted rape. Wasn’t she just asking for death? Is chastity really that important?”

His words were callous, almost gleeful. I felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat. The room seemed to tilt around me.

My mentor spoke animatedly, and the two leaders laughed along.

The laughter was sharp, cruel. I clenched my fists under the table.

“No, you’re wrong.”

The words burst from me before I could stop them. The room fell silent. My mentor’s face paled in shock.

I couldn’t help but stand up. My mentor was stunned for a moment.

All eyes were on me. My heart hammered in my chest. I didn’t care anymore.

“Natalie didn’t resist. The injuries on her wrists weren’t from resisting rape.”

My voice shook, but I held their gaze. The truth hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. For the first time, nobody had anything to say. And for the first time, I didn’t care what happened next.