Since she was staying at her uncle's house, she got up early every morning without fail, and today was no different.
These days, after waking up, she'd gotten into the habit of plinking out a few notes from "Flight of the Bumblebee" on the piano in her cousin's room, then heading off to help her aunt prepare breakfast.
She left her room and made her way to the kitchen as usual.
Her uncle was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper. Noticing her emerge, he greeted her casually. "Morning, Jenny."
"Good morning, Uncle." She arrived in the kitchen and gave her aunt an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Aunt."
"Morning," her aunt said with a smile. "I've been hearing you play the piano these days. Getting interested in music again?"
As she helped her aunt portion out the prepared salad, she shook her head. "No, did I disturb you?"
"Of course not. Lisa and Clark have both moved out, so I actually like having a bit more life in the house."
"Hehe, but there's still Carl, isn't there?"
"Carl's just too shy—he doesn't like dealing with people. Speaking of which, has he gotten up yet?"
"I haven't seen him."
So her aunt called out to her uncle in the living room to wake up little cousin Carl.
After bustling around for a bit, the family of four gathered at the dining table for breakfast.
Her aunt poured her a glass of milk and passed it over, then asked her uncle across the table, "Who was that on the phone this morning? It was so early."
"Janet Johnston," her uncle replied. "A very important client. She wants me to handle a case for her."
"I remember that woman," her aunt said after thinking for a moment. "She always struck me as a little off."
"That's just women's bias, isn't it? I didn't pick up on anything."
Her little cousin, who'd been quietly eating with his head down, suddenly chimed in. "Dad, that means you're off too."
She burst out laughing.
Her aunt pretended to be mad and rapped her little cousin on the head. "How can you talk about your dad like that?"
Her uncle just smiled, then turned to her. "Jenny, this is a pretty interesting case. Why don't you come along with me later to check it out?"
She was studying at Yale Law School and would earn her JD next year. She'd already lined up an internship at her uncle's firm, so when he suggested it, she nodded right away. "Sure."
After breakfast, she changed into a light gray plaid business suit, pulled her hair into a simple ponytail, said goodbye to her aunt and cousin, and rode off with her uncle, leaving the Bel Air neighborhood behind.
It was only on the road that her uncle filled her in on the basics of the case. "This happened last night in Santa Monica. Five young guys ganged up on a kid coming home from a late shift. Jenny, guess how it turned out?"
Five against one—what else could happen?
That's what she thought to herself, though she worried they might be representing the five thugs who'd done the beating.
Her uncle noticed the shift in her expression and clearly read her mind. "Jenny, with that attitude, you'll have a hard time becoming a good lawyer. But today, we're on the side of the kid who got jumped."
Relieved, she asked, "So, Uncle, what happened?"
"Well," her uncle said with a grin, drawing it out a little before continuing, "all five of those guys ended up with a broken leg—bad ones, comminuted fractures. One even lost seven teeth. But the kid they attacked? Just some minor injuries."
She'd been fretting over the poor guy who'd been beaten, but hearing this, her mouth fell open in disbelief. "Was he Bruce Lee or something?"
"Heh, we'll find out when we get there."
Then, at UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica, she saw him again—that focused figure from Venice Beach, the one with the guitar.
"Simon, this is George Norman, the lawyer. He's really sharp—he'll make sure we take those losers to the cleaners. Oh, George, this is Simon. Simon Westeros."
Simon Westeros.
She committed the name to memory right away.
Her uncle shook hands with the young man, then turned to introduce her.
She stepped forward gracefully, extending her hand with a touch of shyness. "Hello, I'm Jennifer Rebould."
Simon smiled as he shook the ponytail girl's hand. "Rebould—I know that one. It's a variant of 'rainbow,' right?"
Jennifer Rebould nodded, a bit surprised. "Yeah, it is."
*Raybould is a twist on Rainbow.*
She hadn't expected him to know such an obscure bit of trivia, though she had no idea about the origins of "Westeros" herself. She'd have to look it up when she got home.
But clearly, he didn't remember her at all, and she couldn't help feeling a little deflated.
With that thought, she went on to shake hands with Janet Johnston beside him and exchange greetings. It suddenly clicked—this had to be the woman who'd tried to snag money from his guitar case that day. So they weren't just acquaintances; they were close. Ordinary friends wouldn't hover at your bedside like this when you were in the hospital.
After the small talk, George Norman sat down by Simon's bed, pulled out a notebook, and started digging into the specifics of what happened last night. Jennifer Rebould clutched her own notebook, sitting attentively next to her uncle.
Simon cooperated as best he could.
They talked like that for over half an hour before George Norman excused himself for the time being, heading off to touch base with the cops on the case.
Simon's room was left with just him and Janet.
But the quiet didn't last long. There was a knock at the door, and after getting the okay, a tall middle-aged man in rimless glasses walked in.
"Mr. Westeros?" the man confirmed, then handed over his business card. "I'm Derek Wheeler, representing Mark Stein and the others."
Janet, who'd been all smiles, immediately turned sour at the introduction.
Simon kept his cool. "Hello, Mr. Wheeler."
Derek Wheeler brushed off Janet's chill but didn't sit down, looming a bit over Simon's bed. "Mr. Westeros, after talking to my clients, I learned that even after they'd lost the ability to fight back, you kept up the violence. That's serious aggravated assault. If this goes to court, you'll be looking at jail time too. Plus, I hear you're an up-and-coming screenwriter who just inked a deal with Fox. If this blows up, it could tank your career."
The words were barely out of Derek Wheeler's mouth when Janet shot back, irritated. "All right, sir, threat delivered—you can go now. We'll be sure to bring up your little intimidation tactic in court."
Derek Wheeler blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't even gotten past his opening pitch, and he was already being shown the door. He turned to Simon on the bed, hoping the kid had some backbone.
Simon pondered for a moment and was about to respond when there was another knock. George Norman hurried back in with Jennifer Rebould.
Derek Wheeler's face registered surprise at the sight of George Norman—Simon even caught a flicker of clear guilt there.
George Norman looked surprised too, but his tone carried a hint of banter. "Derek, we going head-to-head again this time?"
Derek Wheeler's expression froze, and it took him a second to recover. "George, this is a surprise. But I'm just here on behalf of my clients, looking to settle this amicably. Your client got jumped first, sure, but there was some serious overkill in self-defense. So my clients are hoping for a reconciliation."
At that, Janet piped up. "Reconciliation? Ha! That woman last night sure wasn't talking like that—they wanted to push it all the way, and I was ready to go the distance too."
Derek Wheeler finished his spiel but ignored everyone else, turning back to Simon.
In the end, it all came down to the kid in front of him.
Simon dropped his gaze, silent for a moment, before saying to Derek Wheeler, "Five hundred thousand dollars. I want the check by noon, and then we're done. Otherwise, I'll sue them for attempted murder."
The room went still as Simon's words sank in—everyone was stunned.
Janet snapped out of it first, lunging over to pinch Simon's face hard, fuming. "You little punk, have you got dollar signs in your eyes? We don't want the money—we want those scum in prison."
George Norman's face showed total surprise, but he held his tongue.
Jennifer Rebould gazed at the young man on the bed, her expression tinged with added disappointment.
Simon paid no mind to the reactions around him. After speaking, he turned to George Norman. "Mr. Norman, can I sue them for attempted murder?"
George Norman hesitated, then nodded. "Absolutely."
Derek Wheeler's face shifted at Simon's demand.
He'd been aiming for a clean, no-hard-feelings settlement, but the kid was asking for half a million—not chump change. Still, it was doable for one of his other clients.
That client wanted this wrapped up fast, more than anything.
And if the kid filed for attempted murder against Mark Stein and the rest, those five wouldn't take that charge lying down—they'd likely drag the other client into it.
Things could spiral big time.
After a beat of hesitation, Derek Wheeler forced a smile and nodded. "All right, Mr. Westeros. I'll pass along your terms to my clients."
With that, Derek Wheeler said his goodbyes and left Simon's room.
The atmosphere in the room turned awkward after that.
George Norman hadn't seen this twist coming. Glancing at Janet on the other side of the bed, sulking like a little girl with her back turned to Simon, he said, "Miss Johnston, if that's the case, we'll head out. We can swing back around noon if you need us."
Janet stayed silent.
Simon had to speak up. "Thanks for rushing over, Mr. Norman."
"It's my job," George Norman replied with a nod, then tugged at his niece beside him, and the two left Simon's room.
The room went completely quiet. Simon waited patiently for a while, but seeing Janet still not saying a word, he tried breaking the ice. "Jenny, want to hear a joke?"
"..."
"How about I sing you a song?"
"..."
"I've been thinking about making a movie soon. Want to do a cameo?"
"..."
He kept at it like that for a bit, but with no luck, Simon finally gave up.
As noon approached, Katherine showed up at the hospital after catching a few hours of rest. Janet, who hadn't uttered a word to Simon in over an hour, immediately started venting, calling him a spineless money-grubber.
Before Katherine could get the full story, Derek Wheeler returned, check for five hundred thousand in hand, along with a settlement agreement.
Despite her frustration with Simon's choice, Janet still called George Norman back. This time, though, only George showed up.
George Norman carefully went over the agreement Derek Wheeler had brought, confirmed it was solid, and Simon signed on the dotted line.
Once Derek Wheeler was gone, Janet tossed the check onto Simon's lap with a smirk. "There you go—you're rolling in it now. Happy?"
Simon didn't bite. He picked up the check from the sheets, stared at it quietly for a moment, then handed it to the woman sitting beside him. "Katherine, find a charity and donate this, will you?"
Katherine took it, blinking in confusion. "Huh?"
With those words from Simon, Janet—who'd been facing away, propped against the foot of the bed—turned back around.
George Norman, on the verge of leaving, held off on his farewell.
Simon glanced at Janet across from him and smiled. "I can't keep this money, or Jenny'll never speak to me again."
Janet huffed, pouting. "Then why go through all that hassle?"
Simon dropped his gaze once more, his mind seeming to lag a bit as he murmured, "I just needed to confirm something."
Janet picked up on the dip in his voice and leaned in. "Did you?"
"Yeah."
"Confirm what?"
Simon looked up again, wearing that same innocent smile, but his tone held an eerie chill. "Just one leg short."