CHAPTER 4 - DANGEROUS FEELINGS
704 Words
Dilva walked slowly toward the elevator, the envelope of photographs no longer clutched against her chest.
She had handed them over.
For the first time in three years...
Someone knew the truth.
Bentley escorted her to the lobby.
"I'll contact you within the next few days," he said.
She nodded.
"Thank you... for believing me."
"I haven't done anything yet."
"You listened."
A faint smile crossed her face.
"You'd be surprised how rare that is."
The elevator doors slid open.
She stepped inside.
Just before the doors closed, she looked at Bentley.
"Goodbye... Mr. Monroe."
"Goodbye, Dilva."
The doors shut.
Bentley remained standing there for several seconds.
Only when the elevator disappeared did he realize he had been staring.
His secretary approached quietly.
"Mr. Monroe?"
He turned.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Harold Monroe would like to see you."
Bentley's expression changed immediately.
"I'll be right there."
The top floor of Monroe & Associates felt different from the rest of the building.
The corridors were quieter.
The walls displayed framed newspaper front pages dating back more than thirty years.
MONROE WINS LANDMARK CIVIL RIGHTS CASE.
THE LION OF THE COURTROOM DOES IT AGAIN.
HAROLD MONROE MAKES LEGAL HISTORY.
Bentley stopped before a large mahogany door.
He knocked twice.
"Come in."
The office was elegant without being extravagant.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stretched across every wall.
A bronze Lady Justice statue stood beside the window.
Dozens of awards rested neatly inside glass cabinets.
Behind a wide oak desk sat an elderly man reading a file.
His silver hair was neatly combed.
Half-moon glasses rested low on his nose.
He didn't look up.
"Close the door."
Bentley obeyed.
"Sit."
Bentley smiled slightly.
"You wanted to see me, Dad?"
The old man finally raised his eyes.
They were calm...
Sharp...
The eyes of someone who had spent a lifetime discovering lies hidden beneath polished words.
"In this office..."
His voice was firm but never loud.
"...I'm Harold Monroe."
Bentley's smile faded.
"Sorry."
Harold gestured toward the chair.
"Now sit."
Bentley did.
Harold continued reading for another moment before closing the file.
"I've been told you accepted a new client."
"I have."
"Who is she?"
Bentley slid the folder across the desk.
Harold opened it.
His eyes settled on the first page.
CLIENT NAME
DILVA HART MONTIEL
Everything became still.
Harold didn't blink.
Didn't speak.
He simply stared at the surname.
Slowly...
He removed his glasses.
Folded them carefully.
Then leaned back in his chair.
"I was wondering..."
He said quietly.
"...how long it would take before that family crossed our path again."
Bentley frowned.
"You know the Montiels?"
Harold looked toward the rain falling beyond his office window.
"I know enough..."
A long silence followed.
"...to tell you this."
He turned back to Bentley.
"If you're going to represent Mrs. Montiel..."
"...then from this day forward..."
"...you are no longer handling an ordinary divorce."
Bentley's expression grew serious.
"What do you mean?"
Harold stood.
Walked to the bookshelf.
Ran his fingers across a row of old legal journals.
Without looking back, he said,
"The answer to that question..."
"...began almost thirty years ago."
He removed an old leather-bound case file from the shelf.
Its cover had faded with age.
Across the front, in bold black letters, was a single name.
LUCAS MONTIEL
Harold placed the file on his desk.
But he didn't open it.
Not yet.
"Come back tomorrow morning."
Bentley looked confused.
"You can't tell me now?"
Harold rested one hand on the file.
"No."
His voice was almost a whisper.
"Because once you know what's inside..."
"...there's no turning back.
Meanwhile...
Miles away...
Jacob stood alone in his office.
Vincent entered.
"Our surveillance team confirmed Mrs. Montiel visited Monroe & Associates again."
Jacob didn't react.
"And?"
"She met only with Bentley Monroe."
Vincent hesitated.
"There's something else."
Jacob looked up.
"Harold Monroe called Bentley into his office immediately after she left."
A faint smile appeared on Jacob's face.
"So..."
He walked toward the window overlooking Manhattan.
"...the old lion has finally stepped onto the battlefield."
Vincent asked quietly,
"Should we make the first move?"
Jacob watched the city lights below.
"No."
"Let them remember the past."
He adjusted his cufflink.
"I'll give them a reason to fear the future.”
- Writer
