11

A week later.

The rectangular and small piece of paper between my fingers tells me that this is the place.

I take a long breath before entering the law firm. I walk, feeling curious glances from unfamiliar people. I've been very nervous since I left home, perhaps the incident with the journalists is still affecting me a bit, and Axel still hasn't found bodyguards. According to him, he has to find someone trustworthy, while I can barely dodge some of them. Despite the fear I have of them, there were certain things I needed to do, things I had dedicated my life to. I couldn't paralyze myself now that I was so close.

This time, a simple military green dress concealed my body. It reached halfway down my thighs and was accompanied by a loose white shirt and white Vans sneakers. My bag slid over my shoulder, and a pretty gold necklace brushed against my collarbones from time to time. I swallow, moving my legs and directing my feet toward the receptionist.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Frida Velázquez," I say.

"Do you have an appointment?" she questions, starting to dial on the phone.

"Tell her I come on behalf of Harold Lee," I confirm.

I move away, taking in the structure, which is spacious and elegant. Painted in neutral colors, several offices and people are sitting, waiting to be attended to.

When I called Harold asking for a lawyer recommendation, he directly sent me to Justice and Love, a large law firm with several lawyers. I had heard of them, but their fees didn't fit into my budget.

But now, that didn't matter anymore. This was the plan from the beginning.

"The lawyer will see you now," the receptionist points me in the right direction.

"Thank you," I say.

I wander down the hallway, passing through several doors. The glass on the doors allows me to see lawyers gathered with their clients and others. I swallow, running my hands over my dress and adjusting my shirt. I sneeze, drawing the attention of some people.

I apologize with an embarrassed smile, take out a small sanitizer from my bag, and apply some to my hands before opening the door to her office.

I enter, surprised by the decor of the place. It has pastel colors like lilac and pink, which complement each other so well that it brings a sense of tranquility to the orderly decoration.

"Michelle Müller?" I clear my throat.

"Just Michelle," she nods, smiling. I extend my hand, greeting her formally. "You must be Frida Velázquez."

She returns my greeting and stands up. I am greeted by a woman with red wavy hair, gray eyes shining, thick eyebrows, and equally red lips.

She was incredibly beautiful.

"That's right. Now tell me, how can I help you?"

I settle into my seat and leave my bag on the chair next to me. Her curious eyes analyze me while I try to maintain my composure to explain.

"I came by recommendation from Harold Lee," I say, and she moves her hand.

"Ah, yes. Harold, a great colleague," she smiles.

I ignore the pained tone in which she says it and simply nod as she looks at my body. Her hair moves with the air coming through one of the windows, and my body shivers from the chill of the air conditioning.

"You see, my case is somewhat complicated. The person I want you to defend has been in prison for three years without a lawyer representing him," I say, pressing my lips together.

"That shouldn't be the case."

"I agree. He was thrown in jail without a fair trial. That's why I'm here. I couldn't afford your services before, but now I can and more, so I beg you to take on my case, please. I can't allow him to remain unjustly imprisoned.

I notice her contemplating her response. She taps her white-painted square nails against the glass of her desk, a sound that slightly annoys me, but I say nothing. I dig my nails into my palms on top of my legs, waiting for her answer.

"I'll need more information," she finally says, exhaling.

I lean forward, clasping her hands with mine. I lick my lips, trembling with excitement.

"Will you help me?"

She smiles.

"Of course," she says, and I rest my forehead on the table, internally grateful that she agreed. "Let's talk a bit more. Tell me who the person is that I'll be defending and the charges brought against them."

"He's arrested on charges of robbery," I feel a pang in my chest as I mention it, and the lawyer carefully takes notes. "The person you need to defend is Alejandro Stone."

(...)

While I waited, I ate the chopped fruits prepared by Axel.

He had been distracted for days, and I believe it was because of a certain doctor.

A guard approaches and tells me to go in. I pack everything into my bag, which is then taken away along with my phone, earrings, and bracelets. After making sure I'm not carrying anything, I swallow nervously as I enter.

I don't like this place, yet I owed it a visit.

"You have ten minutes," the guard informs me and leaves.

I sit down carefully, my face contorting with nostalgia as I notice his tired expression and the bruise on his cheek and jaw. I lift the phone as he does the same, placing my hand against the glass. He places his hand on top of mine.

"What happened to you?" I inquire, analyzing him.

The same eye color, his hair lighter, bordering on blonde. His eyes look tired and sad, with noticeable dark circles underneath that I don't like seeing.

He has lost weight.

"A reminder, I suppose..."

"Alejandro..." I swallow.

I notice his eyes welling up with tears as he bites his lip, lowering his gaze. On the other hand, I let my tears flow while holding my head up high. I wipe my cheeks with my shoulder, futilely pressing against the glass that keeps me from embracing him.

"I have news," he raises his gaze, licking his reddened lips. His eyes observe me with curiosity. "I have the money. I found a good lawyer who will handle your case."

"Mich" tries to speak, although her tone is scolding, her eyes betray relief. "How did you do it? What the hell did you do, Michelle?

She clenches her fist, furrows her brows in anger, and tightens her lips and jaw. Under that gray shirt, her shoulders appear more muscular despite the weight loss; she is tense but still angry with me, and I'm not going to back down. I shrug, feigning indifference.

"Do you remember that man I told you about who proposed to me?"

"The one you rejected because you thought he was crazy," she nods, and I smile at her. She squints her eyes, clenching her jaw even tighter if that's possible. "You rejected him, didn't you?"

"I got divorced, and now I have a lot of money," I bite my cheek, offering a sheepish smile. "And you're going to be an uncle."

"Are you pregnant, dumbass?" she growls, and I nod, puffing out air. "Did the talk I gave you at fourteen mean nothing?"

"Well, don't get angry," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

She chuckles, a small, humorless laugh. She rests her elbows on the table and puts her head in her free hand, rubbing her temple as if she's stressed. I caress my belly, realizing that maybe she could be free to meet the baby.

I wanted to keep hope alive.

"I want him," I state, releasing a fearful breath. "I want the baby, and I want his father."

She makes a face, resting her forehead on the mirror in a "God, kill me" gesture that amuses me. I laugh, causing her to look back at me, and her gaze softens. She gives a small smile and lowers her gaze to my belly. Her smile widens.

"A nephew," she whispers as if she's hearing a fantasy. "Is he treating you well?"

I make a face, not stopping from touching my belly.

"It's a boy," I roll my eyes, and she laughs, shaking her head. "Yes, he treats me very well. And just as well, he messes up."

"What does he say about the pregnancy?" I loosen my smile, pressing my lips and avoiding her gaze. "Doesn't he want to take responsibility?"

"He doesn't know," I rush to tell her in her furious tone. She bites her cheek angrily. "I haven't been able to tell him..."

"Why not? Do you think he doesn't want it?"

Tears well up, exhaling air discreetly.

It was so painful to think that maybe he doesn't want the baby. I don't know how to tell him, and waiting for my belly to grow more isn't a good option.

Axel's idea of leaving the country doesn't sound so bad.

"I don't know if he wants it," I murmur quietly and hesitantly.

My hand trembles as it holds the phone, and I squeeze my other hand on my left leg, trying to calm down. I can't keep suffering for him, but it hurts a little.

Talking about him always hurts a little.

"Don't worry, I'll make him figure it out," she threatens.

I sigh, leaving the tears behind.

"No, that's my issue. Yours is to keep up good behavior and be completely honest with the lawyer, Alejandro," I point out, approaching the mirror in a hurry, licking my lips as I look at her. "Don't do anything stupid."

"How would I do that? You're the only stupid one here," she smiles, placing her hand on the glass, making me imitate her. "You shouldn't have

"Try to speak, even though her tone is scolding, her eyes betray relief."How did you do it? What the hell did you do, Michelle?

She clenches her fist, furrows her brows in anger, and tightens her lips and jaw. Under that gray shirt, her shoulders look more worked out despite the weight loss; she's tense but still angry with me, I'm not going to back down. I shrug, pretending to downplay it.

"Do you remember that man I told you about who proposed to me?"

"The one you rejected because you thought he was a lunatic," she nods, and I smile. She squints her eyes, clenching her jaw even tighter if that's possible. "You rejected him, didn't you?"

"I got divorced, and now I have a lot of money," I bite my cheek, offering an apologetic smile. "And you're going to be an uncle."

"Are you pregnant, dumbass?" she grumbles, I nod, huffing. "Did the talk I gave you when you were fourteen mean nothing?"

"Well, but don't get mad," I growl, rolling my eyes.

She laughs, a small, humorless laugh. She rests her elbows on the table and puts her head in her free hand, rubbing her temple as if she's stressed. I caress my belly, realizing that maybe she could be free to meet the baby.

I wanted to hold onto hope.