To help him.
To fix him.
But she can’t fix him. She can’t save him.
And if she stays, he’ll destroy her.
I know I can’t force her to leave. She has to make that decision on her own. But as I watch her fade under the weight of his abuse, I make a silent promise:
If she can’t save herself, I’ll do it for her.
Whatever it takes.
CHAPTER 76
LAWYER UP
MARGAUX
The chili joint is loud and bustling, filled with the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversations. The savory aroma of slow-cooked beef mingles with the faint scent of cheap cleaning products. But I’m not here to eat.
It’s an odd choice for a legal meeting, but I’m grateful for the distraction as I scan the room for my court-appointed lawyer.
I still can’t believe I’ve lucked out and been appointed a former ADA instead of a regular public defender.
Score.
He spots me as soon as he enters the restaurant, waving me over to a corner booth tucked away from the chaos.
“Margaux?” he asks, shaking my hand.
“That’s me,” I reply, sliding into the booth.
“Good to meet you. I’m Peter, your lawyer,” he says, his tone professional yet warm. “I recognize you from the many hours of police body cam footage I’ve watched from the night you were arrested.” He pauses. “And just so you know, I’m not just a lawyer—I like to think of myself as a counselor, too. My goal is to help you navigate this legally and emotionally.”
I appreciate his candor, though I’m unsure how much anyone can help me emotionally at this point.
Removing his laptop from its bag, Peter sets it down on the table alongside a small pile of legal papers. He opens his laptop and pulls up the body cam footage from the night Timmy had me locked up.
He clicks play, and I watch myself through the lens of the arresting officer’s camera—disheveled, in a sports bra and shorts, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“I have to say,” Peter starts, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “you’re probably the most talkative client I’ve ever had. Most people freeze up or shut down around cops—but not you, Margaux. You were telling them about roller derby, your uncle’s passing—sorry for your loss, by the way—and a whole bunch of other stuff.”
I wince. “Not my finest moment.”
He chuckles. “For the record, you didn’t admit to anything, so no harm done. You just mentioned you were standing up for yourself. But next time—four words: shut the fuck up. That’s the advice I give to all my clients. Sorry to swear, but I like to keep it simple and memorable.”
He shows me the part with the adorable doctor who diagnosed my skull fracture.
The lawyer cracks up laughing at the mention of ‘defensive drinking’. But then his tone turns serious.
He asks me about Timmy’s supposed mental health diagnosis, and I tell him what I know.
The footage shifts to Timmy filling out his statement. My stomach churns as I watch him write with calculated calmness, the paperwork sitting atop the hood of a police cruiser, his hand steady as he pens a series of lies.
Peter pauses the video and turns to me, his tone serious. “Here’s the deal. Based on everything I’ve seen,Timmy’s behavior—and his mental health issues—make him unpredictable. And you need to be careful. If you stay with him, this won’t be the last time you find yourself in a legal mess. It’s going to be a hard journey, and he’s unlikely to change. He’s shown that when things escalate, he’s willing to throw you under the bus.”
I nod, his words cutting deeper than I want to admit.