Lines of Defense

Ch. 12

AMELIA HART

The morning light filters in through the blinds as I step out of my room, hoping for an easy start to the day, only to find Ethan emerging from his room at the exact same moment. We both pause, a sudden awkwardness enveloping us. Neither of us says a word, just staring at each other with an unspoken question hanging over our heads—acknowledge or ignore? I choose the latter, bolting out of the apartment like my feet are on fire. 

Once outside, I breathe in deeply, feeling a brief sense of victory for escaping. But it doesn't last long. I spot Ethan's car, gleaming under the sunlight, and a wave of regret hits me. My own car is still at the shop. Of course. I hesitate for a second, awkwardly shifting my weight between my feet. It would make sense for him to offer me a ride. We're headed to the same place after all. Maybe... just maybe he'll ask.

But no. Without a glance in my direction, he climbs into his car, slams the door shut, and within seconds, he's gone. No words. No gesture. Nothing but the growl of his engine fading away.

"What a dick," I mutter under my breath, watching his taillights vanish.

Taking a cab was my only option, and by the time I arrive at the office, my mood is already shot to hell. I barely have time to catch my breath before Kate appears, hurrying toward me with wide eyes and a panicked expression.

"Mr. Havers wants to see you, like right now," she blurts out, breathless as if she ran all the way here.

"Perfect," I say sarcastically, dropping my bag onto my desk with more force than necessary. I know exactly what this meeting is about, and I am not in the mood to defend my decision. My resolve is solid. I won't change my mind—not even if Havers tries to guilt me.

I've failed my father enough times; this won't be another notch on that list. But the moment I walk into Havers' office, any trace of my bravado is stripped away. My stomach drops.

Irene is sitting there, pale as a ghost. She looks like she hasn't slept in days, her face lined with grief and what resembles desperation.

Havers glances up at me, his expression unreadable, and gestures toward a chair. "Amelia, please sit."

"I'm fine standing," I say, crossing my arms tightly across my chest, bracing for the onslaught of emotions. The room is suffocating. 

Havers doesn't press the issue, his eyes flicking between me and Irene, clearly letting her take the lead in this conversation.

"Is it true?" Irene's asks, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. "Have you... dropped the case?"

I force myself to meet those pleading eyes, and though my heart clenches, my voice remains steady. "Yes, it's true."

Her lips tremble, and for a moment, I think she's going to break down right in front of me. "But why? I don't understand," she murmurs, her hands clasping and unclasping in her lap as if she's trying to grasp onto something, anything, that makes sense.

I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing what I say next has to be firm. "Irene, I know this is difficult, but another prosecutor will take up the case. A good one, someone who can—"

"Someone who isn't you?" Irene cuts in. "But... you promised, Amelia. You told me you'd see this through to the end." Her eyes are filled with an aching disappointment, and for a brief second, I see her as a sister, not a grieving woman. "I trusted you."

I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting back the surge of guilt. "I understand, Irene, but I'm not the right person to handle this case anymore. You deserve someone who's... better equipped."