"Who knows what lies I believe, or you do. Who knows what we shouldn't doubt."

Perhaps it's stupid for someone who's practicing law to reflect on the words of a young adult author, John Green, at every turning point and in every courtroom. But I do. Because the truth is not invariable.

Truth is all about one's perspective.

In the law's eyes, an action can be considered a felony—punishable by years of imprisonment. On the other hand, the same action can be a survival necessity.

Yet, not all actions taken for these necessities are acceptable.

I steeple my fingers and look at the jury. "The evidence I presented to the court, all placed in front of you have been proved aren't edited in any form. In them, we can see this man, Santiago Garcia, threatening the business owner with an unlicensed firearm. Despite his back facing the camera, you can see the reflection of the firearm in the window's glass. If you examine the following pictures, you can even trace the outline of the gun once he turns around."

I pause, letting the jury and the judge on my left study the pictures once more.

The offender, Santiago Garcia, glares at me from the podium. Two court bailiffs are flanking either side of his bulky form, probably thrice my width. His black bushy eyebrows are drawn together, making his dark eyes into slits, matching with the snake's head tattooed on his bald head.

I resist the urge to run my hand over my auburn hair, pulled into a tight bun, to ensure no strands have freed themselves. The courtroom is empty, save for me, the judge, the jury, the defense lawyer, the offender, and the stenographer.

As stressful as it might seem, I've been training to sit on this chair ever since I was seventeen. In courtrooms, I'm no longer powerless.

I press on, "Our eyewitnesses confirmed this man blackmailed them into selling drugs, including but not limited to cocaine and crystal meth. We can trace the transactions back to this man. With money laundering, he returned the cash to his bank account. I have provided the proof, and our investigators' step-by-step actions and notes."

I cast a glance at the fuming defense lawyer who shoots up to his feet, but the judge doesn't grant him permission to speak. He clenches his jaw and sits down, setting a hard glare on me.

Pleased, I continue, "His crimes have impacted our country's future too, ruining millions of teenagers' and adults' lives by smuggling drugs. Hence, this man has not only used verbal and physical threats, assaulted countless men and women, shot an officer, and smuggled destructive illicit products, but also destroyed the future of numerous young people. This man is worthy of serving a lifetime in prison."

Garcia wasn't my subject of investigation. I wanted to throw his boss behind bars instead.

It's a nuisance how the gang members of each mafia are so loyal to each other. Money never goes hand in hand with loyalty. At some point, the greed for more has to get in the way.

I suppose the mob bosses are experts in brainwashing their men. I'm still pissed this man took the fall for his leader.

Maybe sometimes it goes beyond the money the bosses—capos—offer them. You can't sell your soul for money. Nor will anyone in their right mind give up their freedom and head to prison for someone else.

Being blackmailed is out of the question too. If they tell us, we'll provide protection. Regardless, these people always take the fall for the ones above them in the hierarchy.

At least now the Rodríguez crime family is weaker than ever. After all, Hector Rodríguez's vice president—the second in command of their mob—is standing in this courtroom.

The jury serves the verdict.

Twenty-five years. Damn it! It should've been more... I could have achieved better than that.

The defense lawyer shakes with fury as he gathers his belongings. His glacial glare cuts to me. With my head held high, I hold his gaze.

In my first year as a prosecutor, I brought down a mafia ten thousand times stronger. He didn't stand a chance against me.

The offender struggles against the guards who handcuff him. His bulky body shoves them aside. "You'll regret this!" he bellows at me, waving his fist in the air. "Don't think Rodríguez will let you live through this. You're a dead woman. Your days are numbered."

The guards drag him out. Over his shoulder, he yells, "I'll kill you with my bare hands when I get out."

I roll my eyes and get to my feet, exchanging the usual pleasantries with the judge I've worked with for over a year.

The felon's words don't bother me. He's not the first to threaten me and definitely won't be the last.

I march out of the courtroom. One of the best investigators and my closest friend I was lucky to meet on my first day at the office, three years ago, approaches me beaming.

"How was it?" Ruby walks alongside me, her black frizzy hair is in a tight bun, pinned atop her head.

"Won." Opening my white collar, I take off my black robe and fold it.

"Knew it."

We grin at each other as we pass the brightly lit corridors until we reach the main hall. I stop dead in my tracks, my shoes slightly squeaking against the white marble tiles. I press my robe to my chest as my eyes land on him. My breath hitches and my heart races.

Caleb. With his white shirt, dreamy sky-blue eyes, and a million-dollar smile, who can not like him?

Ruby groans under her breath and I glance at her right as she rolls her eyes.

I'm about to change my path and take the long way to my office when she grabs my hand.

"You seriously need to do something about this," she whispers.

I gape at her. "No, I don't."

With a huff, she begins tugging me in his direction. "Oh come on, you bring down those big bad guys, you are the Cersei of the courtroom but can't talk to a guy you like?"

Glaring at her, I mutter, "Not with that nickname again." Sometimes, I wonder if my mom knew my name's anagram is going to belong to one of the most famous fictional characters, would she still have named me Cerise?

"But it's true and you know it. You are the literal queen of the courtrooms, but can't talk to your crush." She raises her full, black eyebrows and presses her lips into a thin line, giving me a pointed look. Though her brown eyes hold the usual playful gleam in them.

I shrug. "Well, I don't have any problem with crushing on him from afar," my voice unnaturally pitches high as I try to play it off and flee to my office.

"Okay Ce, this is getting frustrating. You either tell him you like him or you get a guy for yourself and move on... you've been crushing on him for far too long."

"That's why we have the second option. The date I told you about a few weeks ago is today."

Her mouth shapes into an O and her face brightens up, her dark brown eyes glint with excitement. "Awesome." But it doesn't deter her from pulling me to Caleb.

He's talking to two agents, probably revolving around his recent case. Upon spotting us, he turns and flashes his brilliant smile, nodding at me before shaking hands with Ruby.

Don't blush. Don't say anything stupid. Just play it cool. You can do it. God, he has such a perfect smile.

"I heard you had a tough case today?" He fixes his bright blue eyes on me, the ghost of the smile still present.

The agents on his side and the other policemen and investigators walking past us vanish for me. I can't see anything or anyone beyond Caleb.

I make a feeble attempt at shrugging, my mouth suddenly too dry to utter a word. "It wasn't exactly what I was after," I hesitantly reply. "But it went well." I plaster on a small smile.

"That's great... I don't know how you can work on these cases for so long. I've been on my case for three months, with barely any leads, if it didn't directly affect people's lives, I would have given up."

My smile is small and polite, as I pretend to be clueless even though I know every little detail of his case. The killer has had four victims so far. The cops are finding the bodies in the same state, each disposed of on the twenty-fifth of each month. That's all the information he has.

I have to bite my tongue to keep my mouth shut and not start throwing my ideas around, ways to get the serial killer caught. It's not my case and I don't want to come off as arrogant.

He rubs the back of his neck, shoving a hand into his pocket. "You were present in the procedure of one of these types of cases if I'm not wrong."

"Yeah, I was still an intern. It was my dad's friend's case."

His eyebrows draw together for a moment before he snaps his attention back to me. "Maybe you can help me... if you don't have other cases."

My brain stops functioning for a beat. Oh. My. Gosh. My subconscious squeals, jumping and dancing around while I gawk at him.

Work on a case with Caleb! And he's offering it himself. Okay play it cool, Ce, play it cool.

I nod like an idiot. So much for playing it cool. My heart races as another rush of excitement washes over my body. 

"S-sure, yeah, definitely." I probably would have smacked myself if I weren't standing in front of Caleb and so many other people.

"Great, thanks. We might make progress together. I'll work out the details... how about we meet tomorrow night?" he suggests.

"T-tomorrow is g-great." Dammit. I smile to hide my fluster.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Ruby grinning like a maniac. Ugh, I wish I could smack her too. As if I'm not being obvious enough, her stupid grin will give me away.

He nods at us before walking off. We head to my office. The second the door closes and I'm inside the protection of my room, I facepalm, groaning, "I couldn't have embarrassed myself more."

Ruby giggles as she plants herself on one of the chairs. "You did fine... but hey, what about your date?"

I quizzically look at her, moving behind my desk and sitting on my comfortable leather chair. "What about it?"

"Are you going to cancel it or something?"

Oh. I sigh and lean into the backrest, planting my elbows on the armrests. On my left, through the small window with blinds obscuring most of the view, I survey the hall, with multiple desks situated around the place. "No, I won't."

"Uh," her uncertain voice draws my attention to her and I shrug.

"Even in Harvard, his girlfriends were gorgeous, hot, and smart... I know I'm not his type."

"Aww don't say that Cherry, he'd be lucky to have you more than just a friend."

I smile. Ever since she found out Cerise means cherry in French, this nickname topped her other favorite, Ginge. Not that I'm complaining. Anything is better than Ginge and Cersei of the courtroom.

"I think it'd be better if I have a date... you know, to not get overly excited about him." I hope this idea works.

Ruby sighs and gets to her feet. "Whatever you think it's best for you, girl. Call me if you need help getting ready for your date."

With a bright smile, I thank her and she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I inhale sharply. My hand moves to the phone but retreats immediately. A beat later, I move to grab the phone but pause again, my palm hovering over it.

With my hammering heart and clammy hands, I ponder. I want to tell him. I'm sure he'd be proud. The Rodríguez crime family has been more active in the last few years, becoming one of the leading mafias in drug transportation, spreading them in different cities.

With an encouraging nod, and overlooking my trembling hands, I call him.

The receptionist answers on the first ring. "Campbell law firm, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Sarah... it's me, Cerise."

"Oh, hi! Do you want me to connect you to him?"

"Yeah, if it's possible."

"Sure," she mumbles and after a moment it rings again.

I lick my parched lips; growing anxious with every passing second.

Just as I'm about to give up, he answers. "Vincent Campbell speaking."

I shut my eyes and pull out my confident voice. "Hi, Dad, it's me."

"Oh." The disappointment in his voice cuts deep. Maybe he was waiting for someone important. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

"Uh, no... I just called to tell you I won the case... the one I'd been working on for the past five months."

"Really? That's great, that Hector Rodríguez definitely deserves to spend the rest of his miserable life behind bars."

My shoulders drop and I fidget with the blue pen—the closest thing to my fingers. "Actually, it wasn't Hector... it was the advisor, his vice president."

"Oh, well at least you got him a lifetime sentence, right?"

"No... twenty-five years."

"What!" he yells.

I cringe away from the speaker, instant regret filling me up.

"Twenty-five years? Impossible. You call that a win? Unbelievable. I told you a million times, being a prosecutor is hard. When I was your age, I had half of that bastard mob boss from the Sicilian mafia's crew imprisoned. Your grandfather was one of the prosecutors who cleaned New York from the mobs and this is how you represent our name? If you can't handle it, at least don't ruin our lifelong work, Cerise."

My hands tremble violently, I barely keep the phone in my grasp. I swallow hard, my bottom lip quivering. The tightness in the back of my throat makes it impossible to argue and defend myself. Not that I can ever win an argument against him.

"I can't believe this is why you called."

I can clearly imagine him shaking his head with disapproval.

"I thought... it's a good start," I mumble feebly.

"You've disappointed me again, Cerise. I have an important meeting in five minutes, I have to go." He hangs up.

For a long moment, I don't move, staring blankly at the wall across from me.

I slam the phone down and lean back into my seat, squeezing my eyes shut as I press my palms' heels to my forehead.

The only time he was impressed dates back to two years ago. I rounded up twenty men from the Manhattan street gangs in a single session and got them life-long sentences.

I try to console myself. The second in command of the Rodríguez mafia is gone. Their business is rattled... it's the perfect opportunity to monitor them and spot their imminent slip-ups.

The Sicilian mobs... I frown and open my drawer. They're too good, especially ever since Granpa and his friends cleared New York in the seventies and eighties.

I breeze through the small file I've managed to gather during my three years of prosecution. The Fenice gang is allegedly the mafia that rules over the rest.

I focus on the documents I've read hundreds of times before, to distract my mind from the sting Dad's words carried. I can't be weak while I'm at work. Not even for a second.

So I concentrate on the Fenice mafia, run by Mariano crime family. They started with explosives, unlicensed weapon import, export, and selling; at their prime, their entire base blew up due to unknown reasons.

I trace the picture from an old newspaper, a burnt building. Nothing can be identified in the old and yellowed black and white picture. Either rivals did it or it was a mistake. Whatever the cause, it earned them the title of Fenice. They burnt like a phoenix and came back stronger.

Old contracts, different signatures from their fake businesses, while the actual transactions happen behind the scene are all I have, along with a few probably baseless rumors.

The only matter these documents hint at is a power transition about three years ago.

A woman named Slava—I don't even know if it's her actual name or just a nickname—signed everything for seven years. Starting from the year Dad captured the boss of the Fenice mafia, Luigi Mariano.

However, three years ago, Slava abruptly stops signing everything, and the initials of 'EMLAMAO' all sprawled in neat cursives, take over their fake business' papers. The last three words must stand for Mariano but I'm not sure.

Two notes, listing illegal items and their quantities have the name 'Elio' underneath them. I don't even know if Elio belongs to Fenice or not. Nothing in the file makes sense.

I sigh and drop the file in the drawer and lock it, putting the key away between the carved-out pages inside of a book. 

Why has a woman with a Russian name signed everything for over eleven years? The Italian mobs never let anyone from outside go up the ranks. If it's a nickname, then why use Russian? Why not Italian?

I suppose I won't ever be as good as Dad. I rub my eyes, sighing in defeat. The cloud of despair settled atop my head gets thicker with every passing second.

If only I could find a lead to bring down the Mariano crime family, it'll do it. Dad will be proud of me and I might even surpass the stage where all my seniors refer to me as junior Campbell.

If only I spot a lead, only breadcrumbs of a crime from them, it'll change my life for good.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to vote if you did and comment your thoughts.

What are your thoughts on Cerise, her father, Ruby, and Caleb? =)

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