Page 8 of Hooked on Mack (Hooked #7)

Larissa

The courtroom door swung open with a creak, and I strode in. This was my stage, where I shone brightest.

“Miss Montgomery,” Judge Phillips acknowledged me with a curt nod as I took my place at the table.

“Your Honor,” I replied, giving him a tight smile.

Mack Harrington, opposing counsel and my current headache, sauntered into the room next.

“Ah, good morning, Your Honor. I heard your golf game is coming along quite nicely! Congrats on that hole in one last weekend.”

Judge Phillips' stern face cracked into a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Harrington. It was quite the surprise, I must say.”

Ugh. How did Mack always know just what to say?

“Shall we proceed?” I interjected, impatient to get started.

“Of course, Miss Montgomery,” the judge said, his smile fading. “Mr. Harrington, you may begin.”

“Your Honor,” Mack began, oozing charm from every pore, “my client has been nothing but a loving, devoted mother and wife. Unfortunately, Mark has refused to recognize her dedication to their family?—”

“Objection!” I snapped, unable to let Mack monopolize the conversation any longer. “We're here to discuss the division of assets, not to debate Mrs. Kennsington's character.”

“Overruled,” Judge Phillips sighed. “Please continue, Mr. Harrington.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mack beamed, not missing a beat. “As I was saying, Mark has been the primary breadwinner for their family, supporting Ava and their child in every way possible. It's only fair that she be awarded?—”

“Objection!” I tried again, my face flushing. “This is irrelevant to the case.”

“Overruled.”

He continued on, spinning a fairy tale of his client's devotion and generosity while I stewed in my seat. I clenched my fists under the table, biting back the urge to interrupt again. I couldn't let him get the upper hand, but it seemed as though the judge had already made up his mind.

“Your Honor, I have evidence that will shed light on Ava's true motives in this divorce.”

“You may proceed.”

I stood up, clutching the papers that would reveal the truth behind Ava's insistence on a hefty settlement. Just as I was about to speak again, Mack interrupted me.

“Your Honor, before she presents her so-called evidence, I'd like to remind the court that this is a matter of division of assets, not an inquisition into my client's personal life,” he said, flashing that disarming smile of his.

“Please ensure your evidence is relevant.”

“Of course, Your Honor.” I drew in a deep breath and launched into my argument.

But every time I tried to present the crucial information, Mack managed to interject, twisting my words and diverting the judge's attention back to the financial aspects of the case.

“Your Honor, if I may approach the bench?” To my relief, he gestured for me to approach.

“Your Honor,” I whispered, leaning in close, “I have proof here that Ava's real motive is to ruin Mark financially as revenge for an extramarital affair.

This isn't just about dividing their assets fairly; she wants to leave him penniless.”

“Miss Montgomery, return to your seat.” His voice was cold and final.

“But Your Honor?—”

“Enough!” Judge Phillips bellowed, slamming his gavel down with a resounding crack. The courtroom fell silent, all eyes on me.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I returned to my seat, feeling the weight of defeat settling over me. I knew that without presenting Ava's true motives, my chances of winning this case were dwindling by the second.

As the hearing continued, I struggled to focus on the proceedings, my mind racing with possible strategies to salvage the situation. But one thing was clear: unless I could find a way to present my evidence, the truth would remain buried beneath Mack's charm and the judge's disapproval.

“Mark, you can't seriously think you're going to get custody of our son after what you've done!”

“Me? You're the one who's trying to bleed me dry! You don't care about our son; you just want to punish me for your own twisted reasons!” Mark retorted, his face red with anger.

“Quiet!” the judge barked, but they ignored him, continuing their bickering.

“Enough!” Judge Phillips slammed his gavel down. “Order in the court!” he growled. “I have had enough of this circus.”

Everyone froze, the weight of the judge's words sinking in.

He glared at each of us in turn, his gaze like cold steel.

“Attorneys, control your clients. If you cannot do so, I will have no choice but to hold all of you in contempt.” He paused, letting the threat hang in the air.

“We will reconvene tomorrow morning at nine sharp. In the meantime, I expect everyone to gain some semblance of decorum.”

The hearing came to an abrupt halt. Ava and Mark begrudgingly retreated to their respective corners, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces.

I tried to quell the disappointment and frustration bubbling inside me, knowing that I had to keep my emotions in check if I wanted any chance of winning this case.

As the courtroom began to empty, it felt like a tornado had just ripped through the room. But amidst the wreckage, there was still hope. I just needed to find a way to present my evidence without inciting the judge's wrath. The stakes were high, and the clock was ticking.

Ava stormed out of the courtroom. Mark followed close behind, muttering under his breath about the colossal waste of time this had been.

The heavy wooden doors slammed shut, leaving Mack and me alone.

I stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him, afraid that his smug smile would be too much for me to bear.

But when he finally spoke, it wasn't with arrogance or disdain.

Instead, an unexpected chuckle escaped his lips, echoing through the empty room.

I glanced over at him, irritation bubbling up inside me.

How could he laugh after what just happened?

“Can you believe it?” he asked, shaking his head and grinning.

“We spend years studying law, working our asses off to become the best damn lawyers we can be, and then we're reduced to babysitting bickering clients like Ava and Mark.” His laughter grew louder, and despite my annoyance, I couldn't help but crack a small smile at the absurdity of it all.

“Sometimes I wonder if we chose the wrong profession,” I admitted, letting out a short, humorless laugh of my own. “Maybe we should have gone into counseling instead.”

“Or marriage therapy!” Mack added, still laughing. “We could have a joint practice—Montgomery & Harrington: Saving Marriages One Couple at a Time.”

“Only if you promise to handle the golf-obsessed clients,” I shot back. “I've reached my limit for hearing about the intricacies of sand traps and putting greens.”

“Deal,” Mack agreed, his laughter subsiding as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “But seriously, Larissa, tomorrow's a new day.”

“You're right. Tomorrow, we fight another day.”

“Wait, wait,” Mack gasped between laughs, holding up a hand. “You sounded just like this!” He mimicked my frustrated expression, complete with furrowed brow and clenched fists. “It was almost cute… if it hadn't been so infuriating.”

“Ha! Very funny.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. “Well, at least I wasn't fawning over the judge like some kind of lovesick teenager.” I put on my best imitation of Mack's voice, batting my eyelashes dramatically.

“'Oh, Your Honor, I simply adore golf! Why, just last week, I made the most marvelous chip shot from the rough! '“

Mack doubled over in laughter, clutching his sides as he struggled to catch his breath. “Okay, okay, you got me,” he conceded, wiping tears from his cheeks. “I may have laid it on a bit thick with the golf talk.”

“Thick?” I snorted. “You practically smothered us all in golf anecdotes. And for the record, I still have no idea what a 'chip shot' is.”

“Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to win a case.” He grinned, raising his hands. “But let's not forget that you were the one who couldn't keep quiet long enough to even present your argument.”

“Because you kept interrupting me!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “I've never seen someone so determined to monopolize the conversation.”

“Guilty as charged,” Mack admitted, chuckling at our shared frustration. “But hey, at least we found some common ground, right? We both think the other person is unbearable.”

“Speak for yourself,” I smirked. “I'm a delight.”

“Of course you are.” He laughed, shaking his head.

We were so caught up in our moment of levity that neither of us noticed the door swing open until a bailiff cleared his throat loudly.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice stern as he regarded us with a disapproving frown. “This is a courtroom, not a comedy club. I'm going to have to ask you both to leave.”

“Of course, sir,” Mack replied, struggling to suppress another laugh as we gathered our things. “Our apologies for any disturbance.”

The tension that had been coiled tightly within me seemed to dissipate as we walked down the hallway. Just moments ago, I was ready to tear Mack apart with my bare hands—and now, here we were, sharing a laugh like old friends.

“Thanks for… well, whatever that was,” I said, turning to face Mack. “I didn't expect to leave that courtroom in better spirits than when I entered it.”

“It's not every day you find a worthy opponent who can make you laugh.”

“Is that a compliment?” I teased, arching an eyebrow as I tried to decipher his expression. “I'm flattered.”

“Take it as you will.” He shrugged. “But don't get too comfortable. When we return to that courtroom, I won't be holding back.”

“Neither will I,” I retorted, my determination surging back to the forefront. “I'll be prepared for your antics—and I won't let you derail me again.”

“Bring it on,” he challenged. “I look forward to seeing what you've got up your sleeve. Until then.”

This was no time to be distracted by Mack's infuriating charm. I had a case to win. So I turned around and walked right out of the door without looking back.