Winning My Ex-Crush

Laird’s POV

I walked further into the building, passing wooden doors along the corridor. I stopped right at the second door at the end of the dead-end corridor. However, doubt momentarily held my hand back in the air.

Was I really going to do this? Was this the right thing to do?

A few times, I carefully weighed my decision. Come on, I had made it this far. It wouldn’t be funny if I had to turn back just because of personal grudges. I should finish this as quickly and professionally as possible.

I cleared my throat before finally summoning the courage to knock on the enemy’s door. I stood waiting, repeatedly adjusting my tie and quickly rotating my shoulders. My forehead furrowed as no one opened the door, even though the receptionist had clearly said that Prosecutor Golden was confirmed to be inside his office. I knocked three more times, just to be sure.

“Go away, Evans!”

A harsh, deep voice came from inside the room. I snorted after hearing the prosecutor’s rude dismissal. I looked up at the top corner of the door and saw a small CCTV camera mounted there, observing my movements. Instead of giving up and leaving, I pressed my body closer to the door with both hands resting on its edge.

“This is about Alan Schmidt,” I grumbled at the closed wooden door.

I waited in silence. There was no sound for a few seconds. When I raised my hand to knock again, the door suddenly opened. Prosecutor Golden stood before me with a fierce gaze and a scowling mouth.

“If you want to complain about that scandal, you should go to the police station.”

“I want you to arrest him, so I brought information for you.”

The man raised an eyebrow. Slowly, he stepped back and gave me some room to enter his office.

Prosecutor Golden’s office wasn’t very large, but it was sufficient to accommodate visitors with a long conference table, several chairs, and three sets of assistant desks. At the end of the room was a large black wooden desk with a small nameplate reading “Prosecutor Golden” on it. There were also piles of documents and cardboard boxes on the floor. Metal cabinets lined the other end of the room.

“I don’t have coffee for you.”

“That’s fine with me. But at least, may I sit?”

“As you please.”

The man then took a seat at one of the chairs opposite me at the conference table. His gaze was probing, but I didn’t immediately falter. This time, I had to face my own demon and conquer him to make him my weapon.

“I see all your assistants have gone home.”

“I only have one assistant, and he is in Andover with your hired snitch.”

“Oh, come on. He’s your former assistant. No need to belittle him with such harsh terms.” I snorted with a small laugh.

“I can call anyone whatever I want. If you don’t like it, leave.”

“I thought you would be interested in cooperating on Alan Schmidt.”

“It depends on what you have.” He shrugged with his lips twisted again, showing how much he enjoyed belittling me.

“I have direct access, an insider who can get what you want, and a history you might not know.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I want to remove him from my life. He’s been bothering me, so I will retaliate.”

“Huh. So you’re not a ruthless shark chasing around your prey like your father. Apparently, you’re just a snake enjoying your cozy nest.” The man’s elbows rested on the table now. His body leaned forward. I knew he was starting to be interested in what I had to offer.

“I’ve learned not to be like my father.”

Hearing my words, the man burst out laughing loudly. It was quite excessive.

“Seems like Old Evans failed to raise his heir properly.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“He failed long before I was a child. He just got worse at covering up his mistakes since you stole my mother.”

Malcolm Golden fell silent. He stared at me with a stiff jaw. We stared at each other until he finally snorted and shook his head.

“Alright. Consider me indebted to you. Tell me what you need from me.”

“Concrete action.”

“An arrest? On what basis? We don’t have evidence.”

“He is Amy Schmidt’s stepbrother. They lived together for six years before Amy married Peter Morgan.”

“Nothing new. My assistant already knows that now.” The man shrugged.

“What about his business operations?” I placed a thick stack of documents on the table. “Business contract copies. You can track his transaction network, and I’m sure you’ll find something there.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute, kid.” The man pressed down on the stack of documents with his palm. It was as if he was pushing the documents back toward me.

“You know your lawyer’s license could be revoked if it’s found out you gave this to me, right? After all, aren’t you his personal lawyer? Are you going to bite the hand that feeds you?”

My neck tensed, and my temples twitched at his words. I grated my teeth and hissed at him.

“One, I’m not a dog, and I don’t take food from him. Two, I’d be grateful if he got my license revoked.”

“Hm, do you have a side business? A replacement candidate for Peter Morgan, perhaps?” He pulled his face back and looked at me sternly as if suspicious.

“My business is legitimate, and it has nothing to do with their shady business. In fact, you can easily see all the data about my business online.”

He glanced at the documents on the table. Then he looked at me again before finally pulling the stack of documents to his side of the table.

“I’ll find a way to access their data.”

“At least you know where to look.” I took out another stack of documents for him. “In fact, I started seeing a pattern before investigating these documents.”

“Tell me more.”

The man leaned forward again.

“This is just my analysis and wild guesses.”

“No, Mr. Evans. Please, go ahead. I’ll listen.”

I gazed at him in silence. He might laugh at me, but maybe it might be useful for investigation.

“Alan has built a mutually beneficial business network and calls it a circle of celebrity friends. I call it a mafia group. The designers involved refer to their clothes and brands as art.” I leaned forward and laid out my analysis clearly.

The man blinked. He frowned and looked at me again as if I were a madman inventing a story about the apocalypse. He shook his head several times.

“You mean priceless art?” His forehead furrowed, and he remained silent, pondering all I had said.

“I told you, it’s all just my wild guesses. You might have more access and resources to form your own analysis.”

“You don’t expect me to search for all the data myself, do you? What’s your plan for this collaboration?”

“As I said, an insider who can pull information.”

I straightened up in my chair again. He stared at me for a long time, and I just hoped he didn’t know that I was still betting on getting that information. I swallowed to ease the tension in my neck. Finally, the prosecutor nodded with his lips pursed.

“Well, Mr. Evans, if only you had chosen to be a prosecutor first, I’m sure we’d make a spectacular team.” His lips curled into a thin smile.

“You know I would never have a choice in the legal field.”

“Yes. Is that why you want to leave the legal field and switch to entrepreneurship?”

“That’s just one of the millions of reasons.” I stood up and straightened my suit.