It took me an hour's drive before I arrived at the law firm I chose to collaborate with. I couldn’t wait to cut ties with my good-for-nothing husband. I breezed through the receptionist and informed her about my case. She ushered me to the lounge area, and a minute later, a tall, domineering yet smokingly hot lawyer walked toward me. He was dashing in his grey suit and loafers. I looked up at him. He towered over me, and his menacing eyes were as if reading me like a book. His intense gaze lasted for a second until he opened his mouth to speak.
“I assume you are Mrs. Lavigne,” he said.
I stood up, cleared my throat, and answered, “Yes, I am.”
“Maximus Clever at your service. I’ll be handling your case until then.” He stretched an arm for a handshake, and I politely took it.
“I’m expecting the best from you, Mr. Clever. Please do not disappoint me.” I managed to smile at him, but his face remained stoic.
“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands, Mrs. Lavigne.”
I felt relieved... But why did his calm voice feel like a warning in my ears...?