The room seemed to spin.

The injustice of his words felt like a physical blow to my stomach.

“That is a complete fabrication,” Marisol said, her voice rising.

“It is a sworn statement,” Vance said. “And in a public courtroom, it will become public record.”

He let the threat hang in the air.

“A lengthy trial will destroy your reputation, Elena,” Vance said softly. “The local papers love these kinds of stories.”

“You are trying to intimidate my client,” Marisol said.

“I am advising her of the reality of litigation,” Vance said. “It is messy. It is expensive.”

He stood up, smoothing his suit jacket.

“Thirty thousand dollars, and this all goes away,” Vance said. “You drop the domestic violence injunction. You drop the civil suit.”

“And the criminal charges?” I asked.

“The state attorney’s office rarely prosecutes these cases when the victim refuses to cooperate,” Vance said.

He walked to the door and opened it.

“You have twenty-four hours to accept,” Vance said. “After that, we file our counter-claims.”

He walked out of the office, his leather shoes clicking away on the tile.