The air froze for two full seconds.
Lily's hand shook as she poured water, and the hot stream nearly splashed onto her wrist. Her face turned as red as a boiled shrimp.
This… this conversation was utterly inappropriate!
Lucas's expression didn't shift in the slightest. It was as if he possessed a superhuman insensitivity. He calmly repeated:
"Madam Summers, I'm asking the mistress's age. Whether she's under fourteen determines whether your husband goes to jail or pays you compensation."
Madeline's smile stiffened.
She stared into Lucas's calm, unwavering eyes. After several seconds, a faint blush colored her cheeks.
This lawyer… was interesting.
"I… I'm Madeline," she said, her tone softening noticeably. "The mistress is twenty. A college student."
"That simplifies things." Lucas nodded. "It becomes a moral problem, not a criminal one. Legally, it's a matter of property division and compensation."
For the next hour, Lucas displayed a level of legal expertise that could only be described as crushingly dominant.
From marital property division
→ to tracing hidden assets
→ to strategies for child custody and alimony,
his explanations were precise, airtight, and delivered with razor-sharp clarity.
Madeline started with divorce questions, but as the conversation went on, it… drifted.
"Attorney Lucas, someone as outstanding as you—why are you working in a place this… humble?"
"Attorney Lucas, are you married? Dating anyone?"
"Attorney Lucas, what are your hobbies? Do you work out?"
Lily was supposed to be taking notes. Instead, her ears were perked up and her pen trembled so hard it almost punctured the page.
This wasn't a consultation.
This was a high-speed blind date, and the woman was extremely proactive.
Madeline didn't leave until the antique wall clock struck five. Even then, she looked reluctant.
"Attorney Lucas, you were incredibly helpful today. Thank you."
She opened her phone to her contact QR code, leaning forward ever so slightly.
"Would it be convenient to add each other? I may have… more detailed legal questions later."
She placed unusual emphasis on detailed.
Lucas nodded and scanned the code without any fluctuation in expression.
Once Madeline exited, Lily practically sprinted over, her face full of scandalous excitement.
"Boss! Think about it! She likes you—she definitely likes you! Our firm is about to be sponsored by a rich client!"
"What nonsense?" Lucas flicked her forehead lightly. "Go work."
He sat back at his desk, where a single encrypted file waited on the desktop.
[Ding. Evidence 1~, 2~, 3~ collected.]
Lucas opened the folder and extracted the files.
Inside were three items:
one document, two audio recordings.
He opened the document first—Ethan and Veronica's chat logs.
[Baby, I miss you. When are you free?]
[Shut up, my boyfriend's watching.]
[Coming over tonight? Is he home?]
[Message me first. I'll send him downstairs to buy something. Bring strawberries—sweet ones.]
…
[The position you taught me last time was great. Let's do it again tonight.]
[You little troublemaker, always trying to drain me dry.]
The messages jumped from flirting to explicit details to hotel rendezvous. Lily's face turned crimson as she read over Lucas's shoulder.
"This… this woman… I don't need to say anything."
Lucas moved on to the second file—a collusion recording.
Veronica's frantic voice burst out:
"Ethan, my boyfriend found out! Listen! If he comes to you, say you barely know me!"
"If the police come, say we're coworkers, I got drunk, you took me home—and then you lost control and raped me! Got it?"
Ethan's voice cracked:
"Veronica, no! That's a crime!"
Veronica snapped:
"Do you love me? If you do, do it! Otherwise we're both finished! Zach knows guys in the underworld—if you don't lie, he'll kill you!"
Lily's mouth formed a perfect "O."
Last came the blackmail recording.
A smug male voice:
"So you're Ethan, huh? You slept with my buddy's girl. Here's the deal—give me three grand and we forget everything."
That was Liam.
Ethan panicked:
"I don't have money…"
Zach's cold voice followed:
"No money? Fine. We'll call the cops, accuse you of rape, and let you rot in prison!"
Together, the three pieces formed a perfect chain of evidence—false accusation, conspiracy, extortion.
Lily stared at Lucas, shocked and awed.
"Boss… h-how did you get all this? Do you have… secret sources?"
"Trade secret." Lucas closed the file calmly.
He walked to the whiteboard and drew a massive X over the words Second Appeal.
Then he wrote seven bold, powerful characters:
Application for Criminal Retrial
"Lily," he said, his tone sharp, "don't just stand there."
"We're not appealing."
"We're going straight to the High Court to overturn the verdict—and clear Ethan's name."
Lily's heartbeat quickened as she looked at Lucas's straight back and decisive handwriting.
She suddenly felt… she was working for a brilliant man.
Lucas typed "Application for Criminal Retrial" into the computer.
His fingers flew across the keyboard like a pianist in full performance—
facts of the case
→ judicial errors
→ legal grounds
→ contradictions
→ procedural violations.
Each argument sliced like a scalpel through the previously "flawless" ruling.
An hour later, Lucas clicked "Submit."
"Done."
He leaned back, cigarette between his fingers, looking calm as ever.
"Boss—already?! Shouldn't you check it again?"
"A winning application doesn't need checking."
Under the "Full Live-Streaming Judicial Transparency Act," all major judicial steps were automatically published online.
Less than thirty minutes after Lucas submitted the retrial request, the High Court's official website displayed a new case filing:
[Regarding Ethan Walker's application for retrial against Criminal Ruling No. (2024) NY-02-CR-110, this Court has accepted the case for review.
Applicant's attorney: Chambers Law Office — Lucas Carter]
But the internet smelled blood even faster than the courts.
Bloggers and media accounts monitoring the case exploded instantly.
Within minutes, a new trending tag appeared:
#InternLawyerAppliesForEthanWalkerRetrial
The post included a screenshot of the notice
plus a "funeral photo" of the battered wooden door of Lucas's shabby law office.
The comments section went insane.
"Am I hallucinating? A second-instance-finalized case—retried? This lawyer's sick for clout!"
"Lucas Carter? Chambers Law Office? Who?? I googled them—wow. Registered capital $15k, paid-in zero. One attorney, one intern. That's not a law firm—that's a father-son grocery shop!"
"Ethan hired them?? Does he want to die faster?"
"No, no, this is the 'I've accepted my fate, please show mercy' type of appeal."
"I bet a box of Takis this retrial request gets rejected within three days."
"Three days? Please. I bet one day. This clout-chaser is about to get body-slammed by reality."