Part 3Fifty Dollars For A Life

I spun around. Grant stood there, radiating the smug joy of victory, chin raised, smirking at me.

Eliza followed close behind him. She saw me, stopped short, and frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

I struggled to my feet, my voice shaking uncontrollably.

“My father’s trial. Nine o’clock this morning.” My voice was a raw, painful scream in my throat. “Eliza, you promised me! Did you forget?!”

She glanced down at her phone, her frown deepening.

“Oh. I forgot to tell you. Grant had an emergency case, and I had to help him.” She started toward me, reaching out. “Your dad? Did it wrap up?”

“It’s fine, I’ll file an appeal later. I told you, I’ll definitely help you—”

SMACK!

I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. The sound cracked in the air, catching Eliza completely off guard. Her face went instantly white with fury.

“What the hell was that, Dean!”

I was swaying, barely able to keep myself upright. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms to anchor me to reality, and forced out a whisper.

“A $50 consumer dispute… was more important than my father’s freedom? More important than the man who is now going to jail for the rest of his life?”

“Stop being so utterly ridiculous!” Eliza snapped, cutting me off, impatience blazing in her eyes. “What is there to compare?”

“Grant was pursuing legal recourse for a genuine grievance. Your father belongs in jail! I’m going out of my way to help you, which is more than you deserve!”

The words exploded in my mind, a sonic boom of realization. The woman standing before me, speaking such ugly things, was a stranger.

I remembered the day she found out about my dysfunctional, abusive family background. She had held up her finger and sworn a solemn oath to me:

“You and your father are the victims, Dean. You have nothing to feel guilty about. I became a lawyer to fight for people exactly like you!”

“More than that, you are the man I love. Your father is my father. I will fight tooth and nail for his justice!”

But now, she was calling him a man who belongs in jail—all to protect Grant.

Grant’s voice cut in, adding fuel to the fire.

“Yeah, exactly! Your father should face the consequences! He killed someone!” He sneered. “Like father, like son. You’ll probably do something insane one day, too! You’re terrifying!”

“Eliza, don’t help his dad! The mother wouldn’t have cheated or been abusive if the father and son weren’t already messed up, right? They’re the real problem—”

CRASH!

I launched a kick into Grant’s stomach, sending him sprawling. I went insane, swinging my fists wildly.

A second later, a heavy kick slammed into my ribs. I crumpled, clutching my abdomen, and coughed up a spray of blood.

Eliza, who had been helping Grant up, froze when she saw the blood pouring from my mouth. She instinctively reached for her phone to call an ambulance, but Grant seized her hand.

“Eliza! Don’t fall for it!” He spat the words out. “He probably hid a blood pack in his mouth! He’s trying to guilt you, the same tricks his dad used!”

“His dad sold the family home and borrowed money to fund your firm, didn't he? It was all manipulative! That whole family is twisted!”

I gritted my teeth, lifting my bloodshot eyes.

I watched as Eliza slowly withdrew her hands. She looked down at me, her expression cold and remote.

“Grant is right. You shouldn’t have hit him.” She didn’t offer a hand. “Go cool off, Dean. When you’re ready to apologize to Grant, I’ll reconsider your father’s appeal.”

“Otherwise? Let him stay in jail for life.”

The physical pain, coupled with the crushing emotional impact of her words, was too much. As they walked away, side-by-side, I blacked out.

When I woke, a kind stranger had brought me to the hospital. Punctured lung. I was lucky to be alive.

The phone vibrated. I answered, and in that instant, I wished I had died instead.