Chapter 5

Corinne POV

Grant' s expression hardened, his arm pulling taut beneath my desperate grip. He didn't even hesitate. "Corinne, you know I can't," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth. "My caseload is full. And I only take on cases that align with my principles, my firm's values. This... isn't one of them."

"Principles?" I choked out, my voice rising. "What principles, Grant? The ones that allowed you to dismiss every other client for Kylee's flat tire? The ones that let you fast-track her trivial legal issues while my sister, your sister-in-law, is lying broken and traumatized?" My grip tightened, my nails digging into his expensive suit. "She's family, Grant! She's my blood! How can you turn your back on her?"

Tears streamed down my face now, hot and uncontrolled. My carefully constructed composure shattered into a million pieces. "She's just a child, Grant! A vulnerable young woman who trusted her boss! He violated her! He destroyed her! And you, a renowned lawyer, her brother-in-law, won't even lift a finger?" I was hysterical, my voice cracking, echoing in the deserted lobby.

Grant' s face remained a mask of indifference. His eyes were cold, distant, as if watching a particularly tedious legal maneuver. No flicker of empathy, no hint of regret. Nothing.

"Corinne, stop this theatrics," he said, his voice low and firm. "There are rules. Procedures. My clients are carefully vetted. If your sister needs legal counsel, she can apply like everyone else. Wait in line. You know how my firm operates." He tried to pull his arm away, but I clung on.

He took a step, trying to drag Kylee with him. "Let go, Corinne. You're making a scene."

My mind snapped. My knees buckled. I fell to the polished marble floor, ignoring the sharp sting, ignoring the potential stares if anyone were still around. All I saw was his retreating back, Kylee clinging to his side.

"Grant! Please!" I sobbed, my voice raw, desperate. My forehead hit the cold floor, a dull thud. I didn't care. I slammed it again, a desperate plea. "She's my only sister! My only family! She's suffering from severe depression, Grant! She talks about ending it all! Please, just this once! Help her!" My voice was a broken whisper, begging him for the last shred of humanity I thought he had.

He stopped. He turned, slowly, and looked down at me, still clutching Kylee's hand. He bent slightly, his face close to mine, his eyes narrowed. "What is this, Corinne?" he sneered, his voice barely audible, but colder than ice. "Are you trying to manipulate me? Using your sister's tragedy to gain sympathy? To force my hand?" He stood up straight, pulling away from my outstretched hand. "That's low, even for you."

My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms, the sharp pain nothing compared to the agony in my chest. "This is my last request, Grant," I said, my voice hoarse, devoid of tears now, replaced by a chilling calm. "My very last."

He looked at my bleeding forehead, a faint frown creasing his brow. Just a hint of something, perhaps concern, perhaps just annoyance at the mess.

But before he could speak, Kylee, whose tears had miraculously dried, stepped forward, clinging to his arm. "Grant, darling, don't let her stress you out," she cooed, her voice sweet and concerned. "You've had such a long day. If it's too much, I can always find another lawyer for my... minor property dispute. Your family comes first, right?" She shot me a smug, triumphant look over Grant' s shoulder.

Grant's eyes, which had softened for a fleeting second, turned to ice. He pulled his arm away from Kylee, his voice sharp and thunderous. "No! You will not!" he roared, startling us both. He turned to Kylee, his face a mask of fury. "This is not your decision to make. You will keep your mouth shut. If you're so eager to help, go find another firm. I will handle your case because I said I would. Not because she's trying to manipulate me!"

He glared at me one last time, a cold, hard look that promised nothing but contempt. Then, he turned and stormed out, Kylee scurrying behind him, casting a final, venomous glance my way.

I watched him go, the last vestige of hope crumbling to dust. My head throbbed, my heart felt like a lead weight. Whatever tiny sliver of 'us' I had still harbored, died right there on that cold marble floor. My husband. The man I loved. He chose an intern's property dispute over my sister's shattered life.

I picked myself up, my body aching, my mind numb. I walked out of the opulent firm, the setting sun casting long, mocking shadows. I pulled out my phone, my fingers fumbling as I dialed Aubrie's number.

"Aubrie," I rasped, my throat raw. "Grant won't help. We'll find someone else. I promise."

There was a long silence on the other end. Then Aubrie's small voice, devoid of surprise, replied, "I knew it, Corinne. I knew he wouldn't."