Dennis sits in the chair closest to the door, with Aaron and Martina by his side. I enter last, closing the door behind me. The second lawyer working on the defense’s side, Mr. Beischel, is an older man with pale hair and paler eyes. He’s already seated in a chair on the side opposite to us, documents spread in front of him on the heavy oak wood table. I take a seat at the head of the table while his colleague joins his side.

“Thank you for meeting with us today,” the older lawyer says, with a smile I’m not sure is sincere, to the Scott-Perez family.

If looks could kill, Aaron’s returning glare would’ve shot this man dead. Thank goodness Dr. Groban isn’t here. The way he’s reacting to the lawyers alone makes me think it would’ve ended in a brawl.

“We’re happy you came to a decision,” I say, placing my pen and a notebook on the table.

Mr. Ragsdale stretches his lips tightly. “Right.” Turning to Dennis, he says, “We’d like to start by offering our sincerest apologies for what has happened. Our client would like to apologize in person as well, if you so wish.”

“I think we’ll pass, thanks,” Aaron says, jaw clenched.

Oh boy.

The younger attorney hides a wince, but thankfully doesn’t bring the subject up again. Instead, with the tips of his fingers, he slides a pile of papers toward me. His colleague does the same to Martina, Dennis, and Aaron. I automatically start turning pages to find the official offer.

All right. This isn’t too bad.

“We have worked very hard with our client to find a deal that we think could be advantageous for everyone involved. We’re offering a settlement of $500,000 to compensate for your inconveniences, as well as—”

“I beg your pardon?” Aaron says, voice cold as snow.

The older, less smiling lawyer says, “My colleague said we’re offering—”

“You said you’re offering to pay us off to shut up.”

Crap.

“Aarón, please,” Martina starts. “Let them speak.”

He turns to her, flabbergasted. “You can’t be serious.” Shaking his head, he flips back to the lawyers and says, “You can take your offer and fuck off.”

Mr. Ragsdale’s eyes become wide as saucers as he says, “Mr. Scott-Perez, please—”

“We’ll see you in court,” Aaron interrupts.

The sound of my chair scraping the floor makes everyone turn my way. “Aaron? Can we talk? Outside?”

He stares at me in silence for a second.

Please say yes. Don’t mess this up.

I try to let him read me. To tell him without speaking that I understand what he’s going through, but that this is definitely not the way to go.

Something softens a hint in his gaze. He doesn’t answer, but he does get up. I exhale in relief.