“I’m sure I could ask him to do that if need be,” she said just as I was starting a new web search.

“Great. So, tell us, what’s the last bit of advice that your mentor gave you?”

I looked at my watch. As soon as today’s interviews were over, I was going to call Alyssa about this case. Maybe she’d fudged some of the details to continue shrouding her identity.

“When I told him I was nervous about my interview today,” Miss Everhart said softly, “he told me, it is what it is.”

My head immediately shot up.

“Did he now?” George clutched his chest, laughing. “That sounds like something our Andrew would say!” He patted me on the shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Andrew?”

“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes at ‘Miss Everhart.’ “That sounds exactly like something I would say...”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be sure to tell my mentor that someone actually enjoys his odd sense of humor.”

“Please do.” I watched as she answered the next questions with ease, as she barely blinked her big blue eyes when the questions became tougher. And the more I heard her talk, the more I heard the familiarities of her speech pattern, I had to force myself not to fucking lose it.

One coincidence was fine, but two? Damn near unfathomable.

As they asked her about her favorite inspirational quotes, I scrolled down to Alyssa’s number and dialed. I knew for a fact that she never silenced her phone for some strange reason, and I had to know if what I was thinking was true, or if my mind was playing a cruel joke on me.

I could see the rings on my phone’s screen, see the seconds as they passed, and when it rang three times, I let out a huge sigh of relief. But then the sound of bell chimes filled the room.

“I am so sorry.” Miss Everhart’s cheeks turned pink and she picked up her purse. “I have a weird thing about never putting this on silent...I really meant to leave it in my car.” She pulled out her phone, slightly smiling once she looked at the screen, and then she hit ignore.

WHAT. THE. FUCK!

“Happens all the time.” Will laughed. “We were going on and on anyway. It’s a good thing it went off so we can close out with the final questions. Anything from you, Andrew?”

I glared at ‘Alyssa’. I was confused, pissed, and unfortunately aroused all at once.

“Andrew?”

“No,” I said, noticing that she was blushing again. “I have absolutely nothing to say.”

Will and Greg both stood up and smiled, reaching out to shake her hand, but I remained seated.

I couldn’t believe this shit.

She wasn’t a green-eyed redhead like she’d said over the phone, far from being a licensed lawyer, and she was a fucking liar...

“Mr. Hamilton?” She was standing in front of me with her hand outstretched. “Thank you for interviewing me today. It was an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” I shook her hand, trying my best to ignore the smooth softness of her touch. “Good luck.”

She nodded, said goodbye to the three of us once more, and then she left the room.

As Will and George discussed how impressed they were with her interview, I forced myself to look through her file.

Double major student at Duke: Pre-law and Ballet. Perfect 4.0 GPA. Recently cast as the lead of Swan Lake, recently listed in the top ten percent of her class. There were ten letters of recommendation in her folder—all from impeccable lawyers; there was even one from the newly appointed assistant district attorney.

As amazing as her personal accomplishments were, it was her birthdate that stood out to me the most. She was twenty two.

Twenty fucking two.

And, even though she was the most accomplished out of all the undergraduates, she wasn’t even a senior.

She was a junior...

I ignored Alyssa’s text tonight, the one that read, “If you haven’t found another unfortunate date for tonight, call me when you see this.”

I was too angry to say anything to her. After all the hours we’d spent on the phone, all the times that I’d told her that I hated liars, she’d lied to me. Repeatedly.

I’d wanted to vote no for her employment, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Once we’d finished with the last interview of the day, the decision on the top pick was unanimous: Aubrey Everhart.

Yet, while they frenziedly weighed the pros and cons of the other applicants, I sat there in a daze—angry with myself for not seeing through all of Aubrey’s lies earlier.

In the six months that we’d spoken, she’d always asked questions that were a little too simple, questions that sometimes made me wonder, but I never thought twice about it. She’d mentioned Duke University a few times, but she never talked about it for long and she always made it seem as if she’d graduated from there. But her constant talk of how she wanted her parents’ approval and had conflicted feelings between choosing dance and the law should have been a dead ass giveaway.

At this point, I wasn’t sure which lie to be more upset about: The fact that she wasn’t a lawyer, the fact that she was still in college, or the fact that she’d lied about her physical appearance.

Pouring my sixth shot of the night, I realized that that last lie—although irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, was the one that hit me the hardest. She was definitely my ‘type,’ and the second she walked into that interview I wanted her, before I found out who she really was, before I found out her age.

Tossing back a shot, I heard my phone ringing. Her.

I rolled my eyes and let it sit on the table. I grabbed one of my last Cuban cigars and stepped out onto my balcony. I needed to think.

The sky was starless tonight—nearly pitch black, and the moon was hiding underneath a curtain of dark clouds. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, tonight’s sky bore a horrid resemblance to a certain night that occurred six years ago.

It was the night my life changed forever, the night that left me broken, shattered, and numb. All because of lies—a series of heartbreaking and inconceivable lies.

I tried hard to prevent myself from picturing the memories, but I could still hear that strained, ragged voice in my head: “Andrew...You have to help me...You have to get me out of here... Please...Save me, Andrew...”

I shook my head and blocked out the rest of that memory. Unlike six years ago, I was in control of this situation, and “Alyssa” lying to me meant that our friendship was over, done.

There was no justification for what she’d done, but before I cut her off, I needed to make her pay for lying to me, and I needed to figure out how.

Conviction (n.):

A judgment of guilt against a criminal defendant.

Andrew

“Mr. Hamilton?” Aubrey set my coffee down on my desk two weeks later. I’d personally insisted that she work as my intern, even though looking at her made me angry.

I’d made a point not to say too much around her, to refrain from staring at her too long, and I couldn’t help being crueler than ever—dismissive even. I made her responsible for my daily coffee, demanded that she re-do every assignment at least three times, and whenever she asked for my help, I answered her with a detached “Figure it out yourself.”