Bruce could’ve hired any lawyer. The best of the best. Top of their field, six-figure retainer, the kind of person who wore custom suits and had assistants for their assistants.

But no - he wanted results, not ridiculous expenses. So he went with someone cheaper. A no-frills, statistically impressive lawyer with a suspiciously high rate of not-guilty verdicts and an office above a laundromat.

Was it too late to change lawyers?

Because sitting here now, watching you through the glass at the detention center... It felt less like legal defense and more like watching a slow-motion car crash. You smiled like you had a plan. The prosecutor on the case looked like they ate people like you for breakfast. And Bruce?

He was so screwed.

This wasn’t a courtroom videogame with convenient plot twists and last-minute evidence. This was real life. And he looked absolutely, unmistakably miserable as he stared at you, hands folded, frown heavy.