Chapter 86: Lawyer Mode On!
The loophole wasn’t buried.
That was the thing that bothered him as he worked through it — not the complexity of finding it but the obviousness of it once you knew where to look. It sat in the transfer documentation like a door left unlocked, visible to anyone who read the records with the actual intention of reading them rather than accepting the surface narrative. The verdict she had told him sounded like the observation of someone who simply skimmed through it
Daniel’s legal team had built their argument on the transfer from his account. Clean, dated, significant in amount. What they had not addressed — what Rachel’s current representation had apparently also failed to address — was the source account’s activity in the seventy-two hours preceding the transfer.
Liam pulled the bank records closer.
There it was.
A deposit into Daniel’s personal account two days before the transfer in question. Same amount but a different origin. The money had moved from Rachel’s savings into Daniel’s account and then from Daniel’s account into the joint holding. His legal team had submitted the second half of that sequence as evidence of his investment while the first half sat quietly in the same documents they had filed, unaddressed and apparently unread.
"Fucking hell," Liam muttered. "I still got it."
He leaned back and looked at the ceiling with the quiet satisfaction of a man whose instincts had just been confirmed by evidence. This wasn’t a difficult case. This was a case that had been made to look difficult for a woman who either couldn’t afford proper representation or whose representation had failed her at a basic level.
The conspiracy theorist in him noted a third option — that Rachel’s lawyer and Daniel’s lawyer were somehow connected. It wasn’t impossible. It wasn’t even unusual. It was the kind of arrangement that happened in divorce proceedings more often than the profession liked to acknowledge.
He picked up his phone.
The contact was saved under initials only — T.M. — a man Liam had worked alongside on three separate cases over two years, a court clerk turned junior administrator with a reach inside the scheduling system that exceeded his title considerably. Early forties, methodical, the kind of person who remembered every professional interaction he’d ever had because professional interactions were currency he spent carefully.
The phone rang twice.
["Well."] The voice was dry, and unenthusiastic.
["I was wondering when I’d hear from you."]
"You’ve been waiting?"
["Let’s say I’m not surprised. What do you need?"]
"A hearing. Property dispute, existing case, I need it pulled into a proper session rather than left in the backlog." Liam kept it concise. "The current proceedings have been handled poorly on one side and I need a room where that can be demonstrated clearly."
["Timeline?"]
"As soon as the schedule allows. This one shouldn’t be sitting."
A pause. Papers moving in the background.
["Who’s presiding currently?"]
"That’s the other thing." Liam said the name.
Silence followed shortly after.
["You’re requesting him?"] T.M. said.
["People usually request the opposite."]
"People who aren’t confident in their case request the opposite," Liam said. "Get me that room."
Another pause, longer this time.
["You know, I hadn’t heard anything about your situation at the firm. Tight lid on that one."]
"It’s being handled."
["I assumed as much."] The tone carried no judgment, only the professional neutrality of a man who had learned that other people’s internal situations were rarely his business.
["I’ll see what I can do. No promises on timeline but I’ll make the call today."]
"That’s all I’m asking."
["Liam. Good to have you back in the mix. Your absence has been... felt.]
"I wasn’t gone long, you’re allowed to say you miss me."
The call ended right after Liam had said that.
"Such a drama queen..." Liam muttered under his breath.
He gave it twenty minutes before calling Rachel.
She picked up on the second ring.
["Tell me something good,"] she said. Her voice had the careful quality of someone managing their own expectations.
"I’m afraid I have bad news... You might want to find a bridge to start sleeping under because you’re about to be homeless," Liam said and he could feel Rachel’s breathing become uneven.
"I’m just joking! Don’t go having a stroke on me!" Liam added quickly and didn’t even let her get a word in before continuing.
"The case your husband’s team filed has a significant problem," Liam said. "The transfer they’re using as evidence of his investment originated in your account. It moved from your savings into his account and then from his account into the building’s holding. They submitted the second transfer and ignored the first."
["That’s — wait."] He could hear her processing.
["That’s in the same documents they filed?"]
"Page seven of the bank records they submitted themselves." He paused. "Their own evidence contradicts their argument."
["Then why didn’t my lawyer—"]
"That’s a question worth asking your lawyer," Liam said. "And soon."
Rachel went quiet for a moment.
"This shouldn’t be giving you headaches," Liam continued. "The loopholes are significant, the timeline is traceable, and I’ve already made a call to get a proper hearing scheduled in front of a judge who doesn’t do favouritism." He paused breifly.
"You were being strongarmed by people who assumed you couldn’t find adequate representation."
["They assumed correctly until about an hour ago,"] Rachel said.
"Well." Liam leaned back. "Their assumption has been updated because you just happen to have contacted the best lawyer in town. Call me Harvey Specter "
She laughed — genuine, the tension behind it breaking cleanly. It was a different laugh from Sophia’s — less sharp, more released, even though she didn’t quite get his reference.
["Liam."] Her voice softened.
["Thank you. Seriously. For everything..."]
"You can thank me properly," he said, "...over dinner tomorrow."
He could feel the smile arrive through the phone before she spoke — the particular quality of silence that precedes someone smiling.
["Okay,"] she said.
["Dinner."]
"Seven. I’ll pick you up."
["You know where I live."]
"I do," he said. "Unfortunately for both of us."
She laughed again and the call ended and Liam set the phone down and looked at the open documents on his laptop with the quiet satisfaction of a man who had remembered something important about himself.
He was very good at this.
Unemployment, it turned out, had done nothing to change that.