Melissa had fallen asleep on the couch sometime after midnight, still in yesterday's clothes.
Files were scattered across the coffee table, a half-empty glass of wine sitting dangerously close to a stack of documents.
Her phone buzzed against the wooden table. Once. Twice.
She groaned softly, pulling the blanket over her head.
The phone kept vibrating.
With a tired sigh, Melissa blindly reached for it, her hair a mess as she squinted at the screen. Dean.
"Dean," she mumbled as she answered, her voice thick with sleep. "If this isn't important, I swear—"
"Do you know what time it is?" Melissa asked.
"It's 4:30pm"
"It's 2:00am"
"Oh i forgot.... Time difference. My bad!" Dean said.
"What the hell you want?" Melissa asked pissed.
"You're going to want to hear this. It's about Judge Aaron Jones."
That made her pause.
Melissa slowly sat up, the sleep fading from her eyes.
"…You found something?"
Dean exhaled like a man proud of himself.
"Oh, I found plenty."
Melissa leaned back against the couch, running a hand through her hair.
"Alright," she sighed. "I'm listening."
Dean shuffled papers loudly, clearly enjoying the moment.
"So, Judge Aaron Jones. Fifty-eight years old. Been on the bench for over three decade. Public reputation is spotless. Everyone describes him as disciplined, family-oriented, morally upright."
Melissa snorted softly. "That's always a bad sign."
"Exactly," Dean replied. He continued.
"Let's start with the family. His wife, Caroline Jones."
"Who is she?"
"You're going to love this part," Dean said.
"She owns one of the largest real estate development companies in the state."
Melissa straightened slightly.
"How large?"
"Massive. Commercial buildings, luxury condos, entire shopping districts. Her company practically reshaped half the city's skyline. We're talking a full real estate empire."
Melissa let out a quiet whistle.
"So the judge married very well."
"Oh, it gets better," Dean said.
"She's powerful too. Political donations, charity boards, city planning committees. People listen when Caroline Jones speaks."
Melissa rubbed her temple.
"That could make things… complicated."
Dean continued flipping through his notes.
"They also have two daughters."
Melissa grabbed a pen from the table, instinctively jotting things down on a stray document.
"Go on."
"Emily Jones. The eldest. Twenty seven years old. Corporate lawyer in Chicago. Ivy League. Perfect résumé. Completely scandal-free."
"And the second?"
"Lily Jones. Twenty-four."
Dean paused.
"The opposite of her sister. Socialite. Parties, fashion events, influencer lifestyle. She's in magazines more than courtrooms."
Melissa chuckled faintly.
"Every powerful family has one."
"True."
Dean went quiet for a moment. Then his voice lowered.
"Now we get to the interesting part."
Melissa's pen stopped moving.
"What interesting part?"
"You know Reverend Michael Carter?" Dean asked.
Melissa frowned, thinking.
"The pastor from Grace Covenant Church?"
"That's the one."
"Why?"
There was a pause.
Then Dean said carefully,
"Our honorable Judge Aaron Jones has been meeting Reverend Michael Carter. At a private apartment downtown."
Melissa blinked.
"…Meeting?"
"For the last eight months," Dean continued.
Melissa sat up straighter now, the sleep completely gone.
"Dean," she said slowly, "what kind of meetings?"
Dean sighed.
"Melissa… they're not discussing scripture. That's for sure."
The room fell silent.
Outside, a car passed down the street, headlights sweeping briefly across the walls of room.
Melissa stared at the floor.
"A married federal judge," she murmured, "having an affair… with a reverend."
"Yep."
"And his wife owns half the city."
"Yep."
Melissa leaned back against the couch, letting out a long breath.
"You have proof?"
"Phone records. Hotel bookings under aliases. Late-night meetings behind the church office. I even have pictures."
Melissa slowly exhaled.
Dean could practically hear the wheels turning in her head.
"Does the wife know?" she asked.
"No sign of it," Dean replied. "If she finds out, half his life collapses overnight."
Melissa hummed thoughtfully.
"That explains the donations," Dean added.
"Donations?"
"Judge Jones has been quietly funneling money into Reverend Michael's church foundation. A lot of money."
Melissa chuckled under her breath.
"Well… that is very useful."
Dean leaned forward.
"I figured you'd say that."
"What do you want, Dean?"
"Just making sure the right person has the right information."
Melissa's tone sharpened with amusement.
"You didn't dig this up out of charity."
"No," Dean said. "I dug it up because I know you."
Another pause.
Melissa finally spoke again, her voice calm and calculating.
"Send me everything."
"The photos too?"
"Especially the photos."
Dean nodded even though she couldn't see him.
"You'll have them in ten minutes."
"Good."
Melissa's voice softened slightly, though the danger behind it remained.
"Dean… you may have just given me the key to tomorrow's courtroom."
There was an awkward silence.
Then Dean asked,
"So what do you plan to do with it?"
Melissa looked at the scattered case files on her table.
At Roberto's name written across the top page.
Her voice was calm when she finally spoke.
"For now," she said quietly, "nothing."
Dean chuckled softly.
"Right."
Melissa's eyes hardened slightly as she stared into the darkness of the apartment.
"But if Judge Aaron Jones decides to make my life difficult in that courtroom…"
She paused.
"…then we'll see how holy he really is."
The next morning.
The courthouse hallway buzzed with quiet conversations and the echo of hurried footsteps.
Melissa walked through it like she owned the place.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she stopped in front of a polished wooden door.
Aaron Jones – District Judge.
She didn't bother knocking.
The door swung open as she stepped inside.
Judge Aaron Jones looked up from a stack of papers, his brows knitting together in irritation.
"And who exactly are you?" he asked coldly.
Melissa closed the door behind her and calmly took a seat in front of his desk.
"That's not important," she said.
His irritation deepened.
"You can't just walk into a judge's office unannounced. Get out before I call security."
Melissa crossed her legs lazily.
"You could," she said calmly, "but I wouldn't recommend it."
Aaron leaned back in his chair, clearly unimpressed.
"And why is that?"
Melissa pulled out her phone and placed it gently on his desk.
The screen lit up.
A photograph stared back at him.
Aaron's face drained of color.
The image showed him stepping out of a quiet restaurant late at night… with Reverend Michael, the respected leader of his church.
They weren't just talking. They were holding hands.
Aaron's jaw tightened.
"This is ridiculous," he snapped. "Leave my office before I—"
Melissa raised a finger, silencing him.
"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you."
She scrolled calmly through her phone.
More pictures. Different nights. Different locations.
Each one worse than the last.
Aaron's hands slowly clenched into fists.
"What do you want?" he asked through gritted teeth.
Melissa leaned forward slightly, her expression suddenly serious.
"There's a custody hearing this afternoon," she said.
"A woman named Ariana." Aaron remained silent.
"She deserves a fair trial," Melissa continued. "No bias. No influence. No convenient rulings."
His eyes narrowed.
"And if I refuse?"
Melissa shrugged casually and picked up her phone.
"Well… your wife seems like a lovely woman," she said. "I'm sure she'd love to hear about your late-night 'church counseling sessions."
Aaron shot to his feet.
"You wouldn't dare."
Melissa smiled sweetly.
She tapped a contact on her phone.
Caroline – Calling…
Aaron's confidence shattered instantly.
"Wait."
Melissa paused, her thumb hovering above the screen.
The room was dead silent.
Aaron slowly sat back down, defeated.
"What exactly do you want?" he asked quietly.
Melissa ended the call before it connected.
"I already told you," she said, standing up.
"A fair trial."
She walked toward the door before stopping.
"Oh… and Judge?"
He looked up reluctantly.
"If Ariana loses that child because of corruption…"
Melissa's smile disappeared.
"Your wife won't be the only person receiving those photos."
She opened the door and walked out, leaving Aaron Jones staring at the phone on his desk.
Sweat rolled down his temple.
For the first time in years —Judge Aaron Jones felt powerless.