As a couple copes with the loss of their son, the struggle intensifies when they come to terms with their mutual need for each other. The journey back to each other is steeped in revelations and danger, as they begin to realize some things may not...
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Her perfectly arched eyebrow lifted ever so slightly which, naturally, made me feel like a liar. My palms began to sweat.
"Is that all...?" Her high pitched voice oozed with a sense of superiority, and I felt powerless to help the queasiness rising in my stomach. Despite feeling like we'd been in this room for hours, the clock behind her showed it had only been forty-five minutes.
"Yes." My voice was emotionless, yet still forceful. A stark difference to what was going on below the surface. My mouth was dry. A glass of water sat just a few inches in front of me, but I was too uncomfortable to reach for it.
Her judgmental eyebrow finally lowered back to its normal position and she continued scribbling her notes. There were no sounds beyond the scratching of her pen against the yellow paper and the abnormally loud tick of the clock.
Tick, tick, tick, tick...
I ran my hands against my thighs, but the polyester material of my dress did nothing to help absorb the excess moisture. I glanced at Tom sitting next to me. His face was stoic, but he gave me the slightest nod.
"She will use tactics to try and make you talk more than is necessary," he had told me before we came into this very stuffy conference room. "Don't be intimidated. Just give her 'yes' or 'no' responses."
I turned back towards her and made the mistake of looking to her right. I had been so careful the whole time we'd been in here. He looked like he always did; beautiful, arrogant, and privileged. His eyes were already on me, and the scratching of her pen against the paper became louder.
Has he been staring at me this whole time? How long has he been looking at me? Crap, why did I look up?
The eye contact wasn't long, but it was long enough for me to register a cocky grin on his face. His stupid, egotistical grin made me angry and I balled my sweaty hands into fists. I kept them on my lap but was absolutely sure my knuckles were turning white.
Who does he think he is? I felt my back straightening and blood begin to boil.
He's not going to get away from this.
I uncrossed my ankles and planted my feet firmly on the floor, preparing myself to stand, when I felt a warm hand gently squeeze my arm. My vision had been tunneling and all I could see was him. I looked to Tom, who was still resigned, but was looking down at my clinched fists, silently communicating for me to calm down. I relaxed my hands and the pressure in my head subsided. I had been holding my breath. As I physically began to release the tension that had been building, his lawyer, Ms. Regina Tower, cleared her throat.
"Ms. Gusman, my client is prepared to offer you $2.45 million in damages, the Newport property as restitution for the destruction of Gusman House, and an additional $3.05 million for any additional pain and suffering." Her tone was curt.
