HER BURNING JUSTICE

CHAPTER 1: SPRING

SOMEWHERE IN NEW JERSEY

I couldn't feel my legs. I felt nauseous. I wanted to bend over and throw up, but I couldn't. One, the pink hard material, which lay wrapped around my body in the form of a dress, was too tight. I wonder what material they used, and with these rich folks, it might be platinum gold, with a train so long you'd think I was getting married. Two, I had nothing in my stomach to throw up. Was it the endless stream of food my supposed parents had made for me, by the countless helpers who filled the mansion I was now in? I had never seen anything like it in my life. Even now, the house was decked out as though we were expecting a King, but it wasn't a King we were expecting. It was to celebrate the return of their daughter, to celebrate me, Leslie Batiste. It wasn't something I could bring myself to enjoy, though. How could I? My parents were killed, so was my best friend, and now here I was impersonating her. I'm sure she would be rolling wherever she is now. I, Margot Buenaventura, had become Leslie Batiste. There was no turning back now, I thought with conviction. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, steeling my body as if bracing myself for what was to come. As I went through the halls, headed straight for the party, I had to get my revenge for my parents, for Leslie, and if that meant being their daughter, that was exactly what I was going to do.

****

(3 MONTHS AGO)

MARFA, TEXAS

"Leslie, no fair, how do you always get the bigger portion of Mom's mac and cheese? She's my mom!" I was kidding, well...almost. Leslie had grown to be my family's fake adopted child. I met her during our class's visit to the orphanage, we became friends, and we've pretty much been inseparable ever since. According to St. Mary's orphanage, Leslie's mom had left her there when she was just a baby, and now, at thirteen, she liked to brag that she was older by a few months, not that I'd ever admit it. She is my best friend; many people would comment on our similarities. Even facially, we share the same features, including our black hair. "Well, I'm older than you are, and yes, she's my mom too," she responded casually, while shoving a spoonful of the food in her mouth. I could swear she almost choked, but she held it in because she knew she wouldn't hear the last of it if she did. "Well, hurry uppppp, we have to go help Mr. Joe with his store." I made sure to drag the last letter in a way teenage girls did, something I knew would irritate Leslie; she always complained that it was as a result of brain rot that teenage girls spoke like that. Our town, Marfa, was small in Texas, with close-knit people who tried to look out for each other. When someone needed help, we'd show up for one another. I was an only child who was born here. Well, technically, I was born between the border of Marfa and some other small town. My mother joked that it was because I had an adventurous spirit, and it meant I was going to settle somewhere else. I didn't believe her, though. I was utterly in love with this town, and I couldn't imagine leaving - the people, my friends, my family, everything here was good. My mom, Mrs Penelope Buenaventura, was a registered nurse at the local hospital. She didn't earn much, but she didn't have to. We were okay, we couldn't afford trips, and the only time I had ever been on a plane was the time my mom won a lottery ticket sponsored by some resort people. But, even though we couldn't afford a vacation, we could afford our basic needs and even the ones that weren't so basic. My dad, Mr Arthur Buenaventura was a lawyer; he wasn't a big shot or anything. In fact, he had been working for a decade, without a promotion of any sort; he was just placed at the bottom, given trivial tasks to handle, but all that was about to change, with the news that he got a promotion, and that promotion was coming with a big shot client. We were ecstatic, a promotion came with a higher paycheck, the amount of things that would help do, maybe dad would let us go for vacation now. We had no idea it was the beginning of our end.

*****

Mr Arthur Buenaventura's POV:

My heart raced as I walked towards Mr Caesar's office; each step felt heavy. Was I getting the cut? Was I getting executed? Mr Caesar was nicknamed the Executioner because he always had someone he fired after every 7 months, and it was usually us, the bottom feeders, the ones who barely got cases. Who was I kidding? I had not gotten a case in 5 years, and those were those cases that led nowhere, the cases no one was interested in in because it was usually a dead end, and even that, I hadn't gotten any, The only reason I was still kept around was because I was the office errand boy - coffee, meals, files, grunt work, and occasionally dry-cleaning. So, I couldn't help but think, maybe my services were no longer needed, my chest tightened, it was fear, I had a family to feed, and who would hire someone who literally had no "working experience"? I could already picture it, would dry cleaning a prosecutor's suit be considered as working experience?I was at the door, already? With a hand that felt like I held a 100 pounds bag of cement as I lifted it, I knocked once, no response, I raised my hand to knock again then I heard the voice say come in, I opened the door and went it, there were two men present. "Mr Buenaventura, this is Mr Sylvester Montague, I'm sure you know who he is" the terminator said while smiling in a way people did when they are trying to please a superior. Of course I knew who Sylvester Montague was. The Sylvester Montague. Him and his family were on the news like every other day, Montague enterprises, chains and chains of business, construction, hotels, restaurants, and even art. What was he doing here? Was the terminator going to fire me in front of Mr Montague?. "Yes sir", I responded rather slowly, "You can have a sit Mr Buenaventura" the terminator gestured to the sit opposite Mr Montague, hesitating for a second, I sat down, still on edge about what this meeting was about. "So, Mr Buenaventura, Mr Montague has a case for you, someone is suing Montague construction for a little workplace mishap" he said it with a condescending tone, as though the person in question had an accident on purpose, to be able to sue Montague construction. I looked at Mr Montague, my mistake, because he looked straight at me, like he was trying to bore into my soul, to read me, I quickly looked away. "So you want me to represent him?" I asked, the hesitation apparent in my voice, surely the terminator must be joking, he wouldn't ask me to represent someone as big as Mr Montague, right? What even was happening, why was I here in the presence of such a great figure and why the hell was the terminator talking to me about a lawsuit. My train of thoughts were broken by the sound of mocking laughter from Mr Montague, the first sound he was making since i joined that meeting. The voice was deep and sounded exactly what you'd call the "rich laughter", he stopped just after some seconds, like those folks who measured their laughter, because too much wasn't right for people of their class. "Of course not, " Terminator retorted, "I apologize Mr Montague, he doesn't know any better. Arthur you will not be representing Mr Montague, you will be representing Mr Tony Caper" before I could question who that was, the next words that came out of Terminator's mouth, sent me reeling in shock. "The Plantiff, you are to convince him as his lawyer not to sue, and if there's a slight reason why he would go ahead with this case, you are to ensure that he loses".

*****

To be continued