The Employer

Chapter 2

1 Hour Earlier

Marc Nassar

"I did it," Herman, my client, says while fidgeting in the seat in front of my desk in my office.

I lean forward and thread my fingers together on the mahogany, opening my mouth to say something, but finding no words to release.

"Aren't you going to ask which part?" he asks.

"Don't say-"

"I embezzled all of it. All thirty million. God, it feels so good to say that out loud!" Herman smiles like he finally released a kidney stone and the pain is now a memory.

Except I'm no doctor with a petri dish nor a priest in a confessional.

Scrubbing a hand across my cheek, I sigh. "Herman, don't tell me anything else, alright? I was going to put you on the witness stand but I can't now. Still, people are going to try pressing you for answers but don't respond to any of them without consulting me first. Got it?"

"Oh, fuck! Am I going to lose this case because I told you?" With the look on his face, he might as well be passing another kidney stone.

"I think we have different definitions of lose, but I'm here to protect you. So, whether you did it or not won't entirely affect my strategy."

I'm sworn to zealously protect Herman when I took him on as a client. That means making sure he doesn't get a disproportionate sentence or making the prosecutor's job hell. Sometimes both. People often ask me why I fight for the bad guys. But to them I reply, is anyone truly good?

My firm was built on my passion for law and justice. But in reality, cases like Herman's no longer fill my veins with zeal like they used to.

I used to salivate over the complex, challenging cases like a chess master over a board. The types of cases that are wild, out of control, and with too many unknowns. They were things for me to tame, sort, and set to order.

Yet all of that changed when the girls came into my life. My law practice I built from the ground up quickly turned into a colorless, dull image - like a painting of a changing sky that's gray, dark, and lacking in emotion. I continue to take in the image because I'm good at it. I know how to read each harsh stroke like the back of my hand.

But my heart and mind are with my girls - paintings filled with every color imaginable and littered with glitter.

"You're in good hands, Herman. Go home and get some rest. We'll reconvene next week."

"Thanks, Marc. Appreciate all your help." He places his shades over the top of his gelled back, sparse hair before leaving my office.

I glance at my phone and find a message from my house manager.

Kristina: Hola Mr. Nassar. I have a new candidate that we've scheduled for an interview tomorrow afternoon. They will prepare a test meal after.

Me: Thank you, Kristina. Hopefully this one works out. How are the girls doing?

Kristina: Heidi is at the playground with them now.

Their little squeals of joy fill my brain and warmth radiates through me. I click to FaceTime Heidi. Her gray hair and sounds of kids playing are the first things that meet my senses when the call goes through. "Nina! Laila! Come say hi to your dad!" she says before turning to face me. "Hi Mr. Nassar! Your girls are here."

Laila emerges on the screen carrying the biggest, missing-teeth grin. "Baba!" she squeals before Nina is pushing her for a view of the screen.

"I want to hold it!" Nina screams before smiling at me. "Hi, Baba!"