Chapter 7: The Unwanted Client
I stared at my cousin for a long, heavy minute.
Part of me—the orphan who had endured years of her psychological torment and theft—wanted to point to the door. I wanted to tell her that this was karma, that the universe was finally balancing the scales for every time she had called me trash or laughed while her mother forged my name.
But then I looked at the legal aid poster hanging on my wall. Justice is not a privilege. It is a right.
If I turned her away out of spite, I was operating on the same corrupt, vindictive logic that Marlene had used. I was better than that. I hadn't spent three years studying the law just to weaponize it for my own petty grudges.
"Sit down," I said sharply.
Vanessa blinked in shock, as if she expected me to throw a stapler at her. Slowly, she shuffled to the chair opposite my desk and sat on the edge of the seat.
I pulled a fresh legal intake pad from my drawer and clicked my pen.
"I am not doing this because we are family," I stated, keeping my tone strictly professional, devoid of any warmth. "We are not family. I am doing this because illegal evictions and domestic intimidation are violations of the law, and I abhor bullies. Do you understand the difference?"
Vanessa nodded frantically, wiping her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I understand."
"Good. Give me the landlord's name, the address of the apartment, and the name of the responding officer who told you this was a civil matter," I demanded.
For the next hour, I interrogated her with clinical precision. I gathered every detail of Caleb's break-in, the landlord's complicity, and the exact inventory of the property trapped inside the apartment.
By the time we finished, my boss, Mr. Henderson, the senior attorney at the clinic, walked past my office. He paused, recognizing Vanessa from the graduation video that had gone viral years ago. He raised an eyebrow at me in silent question.
I stood up and handed him the intake file.
"Constructive eviction, domestic intimidation, and unlawful retention of property," I briefed him rapidly. "The landlord bypassed a legal eviction process because the ex-boyfriend bribed him. The police refused to act without a court order."
Mr. Henderson looked at the file, then at Vanessa, and finally at me. He smiled, a slow, deeply respectful grin.
"Draft the ex parte emergency motion," Mr. Henderson said. "I'll sign it. Have the court clerk expedite it for a hearing tomorrow morning before Judge Abrams. She hates slumlord lockouts."
I turned back to Vanessa. "There's a shelter three blocks from here. I'm writing down the address and the name of the intake coordinator. Tell her the clinic sent you. Be at the municipal courthouse tomorrow at 8:30 AM sharp."
May you like
Vanessa took the paper, her hands still shaking. "Thank you. I... I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't," I said, looking back down at my textbook. "Just show up on time."
