Chapter Text
The courtroom was unusually tense for a homicide trial involving a fatal hit-and-run.
Three months earlier, a pedestrian had been struck by a black sedan just after midnight.
The driver never stopped.
No ambulance was called.
No help was offered.
By the time emergency responders arrived, the victim was dead.
The prosecution argued this was not merely a tragic accident.
The driver had fled the scene.
The vehicle had been repaired within hours.
And somehow, multiple witnesses had come forward with statements that supported the defense’s timeline almost too perfectly.
Orm stood at counsel table, file open in front of her.
Calm on the outside.
Sharp as ever.
“Your Honor,” she began, her voice clear and controlled, “the defense’s version of events contains significant inconsistencies.”
She flipped a page.
“The witness statements align too perfectly.”
The opposing counsel immediately looked up.
Orm continued.
“The timing, wording, and sequence are nearly identical in several key areas.”
A pause.
“Which raises serious concerns regarding prior coordination.”
That changed the room.
The opposing counsel rose instantly.
“Objection, Your Honor.”
His tone was controlled but firm.
“Counsel is making a serious allegation without evidentiary basis.”
Orm didn’t sit.
Her expression remained cold.
“I am pointing out a pattern.”
The opposing counsel turned toward her.
“A pattern is not evidence.”
He faced the bench again.
“Speculation regarding witness collusion in a homicide trial is highly prejudicial unless supported by admissible proof.”
Silence followed.
All eyes moved to Ling.
Ling sat upright at the bench, reviewing the file.
Unreadable.
Calm.
Professional.
Finally, she spoke.
“Counsel Orm.”
Orm lifted her gaze.
Ling’s voice remained neutral.
“Are you prepared to submit documentary evidence supporting your allegation?”
A beat.
Orm didn’t answer immediately.
That hesitation said enough.
Ling noticed.
Everyone did.
Orm finally replied.
“Not at this stage, Your Honor.”
The opposing counsel exhaled softly, almost satisfied.
Ling closed the file in front of her.
“The court will not consider allegations of witness coordination without supporting evidence.”
Her voice was calm.
Precise.
No emotion.
Orm’s jaw tightened.
Ling continued.
“However, the concerns raised regarding inconsistencies in witness statements are noted.”
A brief pause.
“This court finds that the record requires further clarification before a ruling can be made.”
The opposing counsel began to speak—
Ling raised a hand slightly.
He stopped.
“This hearing is adjourned to a later date.”
Then came the real weight of the ruling.
“Both parties are granted time to submit supplemental filings.”
Ling’s gaze remained steady.
“Counsel Orm, if you intend to pursue allegations of coordinated testimony, you will submit supporting evidence before the next hearing.”
A pause.
“If no such evidence exists, those allegations will carry no weight in this court.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Controlled.
Professional.
But Orm understood exactly what had happened.
Ling had not sided with the opposing counsel.
She had done something worse.
She had forced Orm to either prove her argument—
or let it collapse in open court.
Ling gave the final order.
“The next hearing date will be communicated by the clerk.”
The gavel came down.
Adjourned.
Only then did movement return to the room.
Papers shifted.
Chairs moved.
People stood.
But Orm remained still for one second longer.
Just one.
Her gaze lifted toward the bench.
Toward Ling.
Ling was already looking back at the file.
Not at her.
Never at her.
And somehow, that felt colder than open opposition.
Orm went home, took a shower.
Then she made something to eat and had it.
Her mind was still in the courtroom.
Especially on Ling.
The doorbell rang.
It was late. The city outside had already gone quiet.
Orm didn’t move at first.
She already knew who it was.
Still, she walked to the door.
Opened it.
Ling
Orm’s eyes narrowed immediately.
“You’re kidding me.”
Her voice wasn’t tired.
It was sharp.
Ling didn’t step back.
“Can we not do this at the door?”
A brief silence.
Orm studied her for a moment.
Then she stepped aside.
“Inside.”
Ling walked in.
The door closed behind her.
Silence settled instantly.
Different now.
Heavier.
Orm folded her arms.
“Talk.”
Ling looked at her.
Held her gaze for a long moment.
Then exhaled softly.
“No welcome?”
Orm rolled her eyes.
“After the day you gave me?”
Ling’s expression didn’t change.
“I did my job.”
A pause.
Then, slightly softer—
“But still…”
She stepped closer.
“At least I deserve a kiss.”
Orm looked at her.
For a second, she didn’t move.
Then she did.
She closed the distance and kissed her.
Short.
Controlled.
It should have stayed that way.
But Ling didn’t pull away.
She stayed there.
Close enough that the air between them stopped feeling like air at all.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Orm exhaled against her lips and pulled back slightly.
“Ling—”
But Ling didn’t let the space return.
The silence in the room shifted.
It wasn’t empty anymore.
It was loaded.
While kissing Orm, Ling was guiding her towards the bedroom and simultaneously undressing her. She had no trouble multitasking. The path to the bed was adorned with clothes scattered on the floor.
The bed itself moved with the dance of two naked bodies, hitting against the wall, setting the rhythm of the dance.
Orm lay face down, allowing Ling to lead the dance. Ling, had placed both hands between the bed and Orm, gripping Orm’s breasts tightly and thrusting rapidly.
Orm could hear Ling’s heavy breath hissing in her ear from behind. Seeing Ling lose herself so much only intensified the pleasure Orm was experiencing. But Orm wouldn’t give in.
“Turn me around,” Orm said breathlessly.
Ling grumbled. She turned Orm around; now they were face to face. Orm wrapped her legs around Ling’s waist.
For a second, they looked into each other’s eyes.
Then Ling started moving again.
Ling placed Orm’s legs, wrapped around her waist, on her shoulders.
“Ah, fuck,” Orm whispered.
She was going deeper and faster inside Orm.
“Yes,” Ling felt the same thing.
“You like this, don’t you?” Ling said.
“Stop… talking,” Orm said breathlessly.
“Oh my God! I’m so close!”
Orm’s tone was enough to drive Ling crazy.
Ling said, “Damn it, don’t talk like that.”
Orm’s state had drawn her closer.
“Ling,” the beauty emanating from Orm’s mouth was heavenly.
Ling was barely able to control herself.
Orm finally began to orgasm.
Her muscles tensed and relaxed simultaneously; Orm was ecstatic with pleasure.
It was as if there was an endless peace in her body.
“Ah, fuck!”
Ling pulled out at the last second and came onto Orm’s stomach.
She was stroking herself to empty out.
After about a minute, they came to their senses.
Ling immediately went to clean Orm up.
The room had gone quiet.
The sheets were tangled around them, the air still warm from everything that had happened between them.
But the silence in the room felt colder now.
Heavier.
Orm lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Beside her, Ling remained still.
Calm.
Controlled.
As if nothing had shifted.
“Did you really have to do that today?” Orm asked.
Ling turned slowly.
Her gaze settled on Orm.
“You were reckless today.”
Orm’s eyes hardened instantly.
She turned her head toward Ling.
Her voice was ice-cold.
“You made me look weak.”
Her jaw tightened.
Then her voice dropped.
Lower.
Sharper.
“In front of everyone.”
Silence settled between them.
Ling didn’t answer immediately.
She simply held Orm’s gaze.
Steady.
Unreadable.
Then she spoke.
“I didn’t make you look weak.”
Her voice was calm.
Measured.
“You put yourself in a weak position.”
Orm’s expression darkened.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Ling didn’t react.
Her face remained composed.
“In court, your argument was built on instinct.”
A pause.
“Not evidence.”
Orm let out a sharp breath.
“You knew what I was getting at.”
“Yes.”
Ling’s answer came without hesitation.
“And that wasn’t enough.”
That landed hard.
Orm’s jaw tightened.
Ling continued.
Her voice remained calm, but there was something firmer beneath it now.
“You think this is about choosing sides.”
A brief pause.
“It isn’t.”
She shifted slightly, still facing Orm fully.
“When I sit on that bench, I don’t get to favor you.”
Another pause.
“I don’t get to favor anyone.”
Orm stared at her.
Ling’s gaze never wavered.
“If the facts support you, I rule in your favor.”
Her tone stayed even.
Precise.
“If the facts support the other side, I rule for them.”
The words hung heavily in the air.
Cold.
Uncompromising.
Because this was the truth of who Ling was.
Not cruel.
Not detached.
Disciplined.
Bound by the weight of her position.
Ling’s voice softened only slightly.
“My job isn’t to protect you, Orm.”
A pause.
“It’s to be fair.”
Orm swallowed, but her stare remained sharp.
“So you humiliate me for fairness?”
Ling’s expression tightened—just barely.
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“I stopped you before opposing counsel could.”
Silence.
Heavy again.
Ling held her gaze.
“You were five minutes away from losing control of that case.”
Orm said nothing.
Because that was what hurt most.
Not just that Ling had challenged her.
But that Ling might have been right.
Morning in the office felt controlled, almost mechanical.
Orm walked in earlier than most of her team, coffee still warm in her hand.
No rush in her steps.
Just focus.
Her team was already seated around the conference table.
Laptops open. Case files stacked. The quiet tension of a file that refused to resolve itself.
Before anyone spoke, Orm took a slow sip of her coffee.
Then she set it down.
The room naturally went silent.
Conversation stopped without needing to be shut down.
She sat.
Opened the file in front of her.
Scanned it once.
Then looked up.
“The judge didn’t reject our argument,” she said.
“But she didn’t accept it either.”
A brief pause settled over the room.
Daniel , the senior associate, spoke first.
“We need to prove it,” he said simply.
Maya , the paralegal, exhaled lightly.
“We’ve already gone through everything in the file.”
Ethan leaned forward slightly, fingers on the edge of his laptop.
“Something’s missing,” he said. “Or something’s being missed.”
Orm nodded once, slowly.
“Exactly.”
Her voice stayed calm, but sharper now.
“Either something is hidden… or we’re looking at it wrong.”
She tapped the file once.
“The CCTV doesn’t show the collision itself,” Ethan added. “Only a damaged vehicle exiting the street seconds later.”
A silence followed that.
More uncomfortable now.
Maya frowned.
“So we’re entirely dependent on witness accounts.”
Daniel shook his head slightly.
“And there weren’t many. It was late. Low traffic.”
Orm’s gaze dropped briefly to the file.
Then she spoke again.
“Which means no independent verification.”
That made the problem clearer.
And worse.
Because everything now rested on interpretation.
Not certainty.
The room went quiet.
Even typing stopped.
Orm leaned back slightly in her chair.
Her voice stayed steady, but final.
“We have three months.”
A pause.
“We need something stronger than this.”
Her eyes moved across the table.
“Something we can actually stand on in court.”
No one responded immediately.
Because they all understood what that meant.
Not more review.
Not more reading.
But discovery that hadn’t been made yet.
Daniel finally nodded.
“Understood.”
One by one, the others followed.
Orm closed the file.
Not because it was solved.
But because the work had just begun.