Chapter 2

EMILIANA

The trial was about to conclude, and I couldn't have been more pleased with how I had conducted it. I was confident that the judge would rule in our favor. I turned my gaze to find Mrs. María Contreras, my current client, with a worried expression. I discreetly reached out and squeezed her hand to provide some support.

We all stood up as the highest authority in the room exited through a door in one corner of the courtroom. He gestured for us to sit down again.

"After hearing both parties, I am ready to give my verdict. However, I want to hear the closing arguments. So, Attorney Basile, you have the floor," he indicated with a wrist motion.

I stood up and moved closer to the podium. Normally, we didn't need to do this; I could have spoken from the desk. However, I felt more comfortable and in control of the situation this way.

"Until the child reaches the age of majority, the child has the right to be supported by their parents," I pointed out that point succinctly since it had been the first thing discussed, but I didn't want to neglect emphasizing it. "Both parents are obligated to provide for the child's needs for their subsistence, based on their respective incomes," I continued, aware of my colleague's gaze on the opposing side. "My client has fully complied with all these aspects. However, she requests what is rightfully due to her child: financial support from his father," I added confidently. "Nothing more to add, Your Honor," I concluded, returning to my seat.

The judge nodded in my direction and gave the floor to the defense attorney, who declined, stating that he had nothing further to add.

"Very well, I will now take a half-hour recess to consider my decision. See you then," he affirmed, concluding the session.

Maria and I left the courtroom. I felt confident and had faith in the judge's verdict. I wasn't arrogant, but I knew how good I was at my job.

I decided to study law when I was ten years old. I suppose watching my father deal with so many documents and cases had a profound impact on me. A sense of justice had been deeply ingrained in me since childhood, so I always knew what my vocation in the world would be.

I didn't have it easy. When I entered the University, I had to prove that I was there on my own merits and not because of my father's influence. At that time, he was a relatively well-known lawyer in his field. I studied hard and put in all my effort to acquire as much knowledge as possible.

I must confess that, despite working at a renowned law firm in the city today, my grades as a student left much to be desired. Mainly because I didn't believe that professional success was directly proportional to excellent grades. Memorizing a concept didn't give you any guarantee that you could apply it in the real world.

"You damned bitch!" The insult from a male voice snapped me out of my thoughts. We were in a hallway of the courthouse, about to exit.

"Avvocato Lombardo, you should advise your client to show proper respect, even for the place we are in," I suggested firmly.

My colleague looked at me apologetically and tried to lead Mr. Marcus, if you could call him that, away from us. However, he refused and spoke again, this time with greater fury.

"You've already got what you wanted, to deceive me. That child shouldn't even be mine," he claimed, spitting out the words as if they were venom.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Maria hurt by those words. Her face turned red, and she was ready to respond. I put a hand on her shoulder and discreetly shook my head to prevent her from saying something that could jeopardize what we had achieved so far. I responded in her place, my voice cold and expressionless, the tone of a professional who had perfected it over the years.

"There is DNA evidence confirming your paternity, Signore Marbello. You can request a copy from your attorney if you don't already have it," I said sarcastically. "And any doubts you may have can be raised with the judge," I added firmly, with the threat implicit in my words. He must have realized it too because he didn't make any further comments.

Satisfied with his reaction, I took Maria by the arm, and we left the courthouse. It was a beautiful day, sunny and cheerful; the weather added a charming touch to the atmosphere, almost as if it were from a celebrity magazine.

"Don't pay attention to him," I ordered when I saw her saddened expression. "He knows he's losing and is just lashing out," I said. "May I invite you to something to eat?" I asked when I saw that her demeanor remained the same.

"No, I couldn't abuse your kindness like that..." she said apologetically but interrupted herself when she saw my expression. "Okay... Is there any way to change your mind?"

I shook my head and laughed. "Stubbornness is an important quality when you want to pursue what I do. You can't give up so easily, and you must be able to persist until the end," I explained as I guided her to a small restaurant on the other side of the street.

The place was packed with diners due to the hour, almost 1:00 PM, but we didn't have any trouble getting a table as they knew me there. We sat at a table with a view of the street, and it didn't take long for a waiter to come and take our order.

"Cosa posso offrirvi ragazze oggi?" he asked in Italian mixed with an accent I couldn't quite place, which immediately revealed him as a foreigner. He had tan skin, blue eyes, and a slim but fit build, easily passing for an authentic Italian.

I smiled and immediately placed my order. I visited often, so I knew the entire menu by heart. Since it was a family-owned business, they didn't change much about it, but that was precisely its distinctive feature: a cozy and classic atmosphere where you could enjoy traditional Italian cuisine.

The furniture was light brown, which perfectly matched the burgundy walls and paintings depicting different tourist spots in the city.

"Ne voglio un piatto di Rigatoni alla gricia, per favore," I said, then looked at my client. "Cosa vuoi, María?"

"Lo stesso," she replied, blushing.

Her reaction touched me. Despite having lived in Italy for two years, she still didn't fully master the language. I wondered how such a charming and shy young woman had ended up with a man like that, so disgustingly unpleasant.

Sometimes, I wanted to ask her about it, but I felt it would be overstepping. She had told me what I needed to know about their history, but I sensed that that story still had many untold chapters.

"Perfetto, vuoi qualcosa da bere?" the waiter asked again, jotting down our order in a small notebook.

I looked at María again, hoping she would choose something to her liking.

"I don't know much about wines; I'll leave it to your discretion," she said without hesitation.

As I expected, her reaction was just as I had anticipated.

"Una bottiglia di Pinot Grigio, per favore," I said, having written down the last part. The waiter bid us farewell with a nod of his head and went to get our food.

I turned my gaze to María, who still seemed somewhat uncomfortable. I hoped she didn't feel out of place because this was by no means the most expensive restaurant I had dined at. If she knew how much money I spent on a single meal, she would have a heart attack right there.

I didn't shy away from enjoying life's simple pleasures.

While we waited for our food, we engaged in small talk, mostly about her young son, who had not yet reached the age of two. By this point, I knew quite a bit about María's life.

She was Latina, which explained her straight, dark hair, olive skin, honey-colored eyes, and short stature. Her family hailed from Panama, and they were from a middle-class background. She was the youngest of four siblings. She was relatively young, just 24 years old.

So how had she been able to afford a life in Italy?

It was simple: María played the violin superbly and had been granted a scholarship to one of the country's top conservatories.

She had met the father of her child at a bar, as that jerk was a friend of the bar owner's son. It was during that time that all her plans went out the window: she became pregnant, the man disappeared to avoid responsibility, and she had to raise her child on her own.

Although I tried to avoid it, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Without family, alone in a foreign country, she had obviously had to give up her studies and trade her violin for a suit and a computer, working as a secretary at a small publishing company.

That's why I didn't hesitate for a second to offer my services when she came to the law firm. None of my colleagues wanted to take the case because it was pro bono, which meant we wouldn't charge her any fees. Frankly, I didn't care about the money.

If women don't support each other, who will?

Lunch arrived quickly, and both of us enjoyed it, declining the offer of dessert from the waiter, explaining that we were short on time.

"Bon appétit," I toasted, clinking my glass with hers before taking a sip of the wine, savoring its pleasant taste.

"It's delicious," María admitted, looking at her glass with adoration.

I smiled. I definitely had to show this young woman what good Italian cuisine was like if I ever had the chance.

We ate in silence, and by the time we finished, there were five minutes left before we had to return to the courtroom. María insisted on paying half of the bill, but I refused, standing firm. She needed the money more than I did, and it was only fair for me to cover it since I had invited her.

We left the restaurant, crossed the street again, and climbed the steps two by two to reach our designated courtroom.

My counterpart was already there with his client, but I didn't even bother looking at them, urging María to do the same. His Honor made his appearance, and we all stood up to receive him. Once we were all seated, we prepared to hear the verdict.

"After extensive deliberation, I have decided to prioritize the best interests of the child. Therefore, I rule as follows: Mr. Marcus Miller shall be required to pay child support for the child, Andrés Contreras, due to their established relationship, until he reaches the age of majority," the judge declared seriously. "The amount shall be determined based on the defendant's financial means and will be provided to both parties. That is all; have a good afternoon, everyone," he affirmed, rising from his seat. We all followed suit and watched him disappear into his office.

I couldn't contain myself any longer and hugged María tightly. She did the same, and when we separated, I saw that she had teary eyes, with tears rolling down her cheeks. She had a relieved and happy expression that reminded me why I had chosen to study law.

"We did it! Molte grazie, Signorina Basile, molte grazie," she said, expressing her gratitude. I took her hands and gave her a reassuring smile.

"You don't have to thank me. I just ensured that the law was upheld," I affirmed. And it was true; all I had done was deliver justice for her and her son.

"I'll never be able to repay you," María continued, tears still in her eyes.

"If you bring me some of those delicious empanadas you make, I'll consider myself well-served," I said, half in jest.

María nodded vigorously. "For sure, I'll send you as many as you want, or better yet, I'll bring them myself," she declared determinedly.

We left the courtroom, and before saying goodbye, I explained to María what remained to conclude the case and the information I would need to ensure that the monthly deposits were made to her. I also told her that I would pick up the document with the trial's result tomorrow, as it was important for us to have a copy.

I accompanied her to the subway entrance and then took a taxi to the law firm: Calaglieri e Soci. The streets were crowded, with traffic jams everywhere, so it took longer than usual to arrive. Normally, it was about a 20-minute drive from Il Tribunale Ordinari di Roma to the Calaglieri office on Vía Prisciano, but it took 40 minutes to reach the building, take the elevator to the fourth floor, and find myself in the familiar work environment when the doors opened.

I walked towards my office, greeting some colleagues and staff along the way. I didn't linger because I had a lot of pending tasks to attend to, but everyone greeted me warmly, as it was well known how much respect and affection I had earned from my team.

I entered my office, closing the door behind me, and raised an eyebrow when I saw a male figure seated at my desk with all the confidence in the world.

"Out, Camilo," I ordered, shaking my hands as if shooing away an annoying insect.

He smiled as he stood up from my desk and approached to give me a kiss on the cheek in greeting. I resisted the temptation to wipe my cheek with my hand, as it was a matter of courtesy for one of us to be completely uncivil.

Once I was in my chair, I gestured for him to take a seat across from me.

"What do you want?" I asked, getting straight to the point. I knew Camilo; he was my friend, but that didn't mean he was here for any reason other than asking for a favor.

"I heard you won the child support case. Congratulations!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "I know that's not your area, so I'm very proud of you," he said in a sycophantic tone.

I examined him with a scrutinizing look. I didn't believe a word he said, although I appreciated the gesture. He was right; this wasn't my specialty, and I was grateful for his recognition. But I wasn't about to fall for his game. He was just trying to change the subject to distract me.

"Thank you very much for noticing," I admitted, although sarcasm dripped from my politeness. "I repeat: What do you want?" I asked again, more firmly than before

Camilo smiled innocently, and I immediately tensed up. Nothing good ever came from that expression.

What had that idiot dragged us into?