Chapter Twenty-Four: The Judge

Daniel turned toward the voice and saw her—Judge Elena Vázquez.

A figure from his past, yes, but never one he could forget. She looked almost exactly as he remembered her, only more composed, more dangerous. In her late forties now, she had once been the youngest judge in her district, appointed just shy of thirty-five. Even back then, she’d had a presence that made older attorneys sit up straighter and watch their tone.

She was stunning, of course. But Elena had never led with her beauty. It was incidental. Weaponized only when she needed it.

She was five-foot-five, maybe, but carried herself like she had six more inches and a security detail. Fit and fine-boned, she had the kind of posture that told you exactly how much bullshit she’d put up with (answer: none).

And then there was the dress.

A bold, blood-warm shade of red that dared you to look. Dared you to comment. Dared you to pretend you weren’t wondering what was underneath. It clung in all the right places and made no apologies. The curves were still there, Christ, were they still there. She’d always been stacked, though she never gave you the satisfaction of lingering on it. But tonight? That ass alone could’ve caused a mistrial.

Her dark hair was swept back in loose waves, elegant but not overly done. Her skin, warm and golden under the lights, looked like honey turned to velvet. She didn’t look softened by time she looked honed.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Daniel Reyes,” she said. “The last time I saw you, you were loitering outside my chambers, shoving a motion into my hand like it was a Hail Mary.”

Her eyes gave him a once-over. Her smile flashed like a blade catching light.

“I take it you’ve moved up in the world.”

Daniel gave a half-smile. “Depends on who you ask.”

He turned toward her fully. “Tell me, what’s a judge from L.A. doing mingling in the heart of New York high society?”

She slid onto the barstool beside him and ordered a martini, because of course she did. “Let’s just say I’m visiting an old friend,” she said, her tone deliberately vague.

“How mysterious, Judge Vázquez.”

She raised a brow as she accepted the martini glass. She swirled the olive with her fingertips, as if even cocktail garnishes obeyed her.

“Please, Reyes. You’re not in my courtroom anymore. You can call me Elena.”

Daniel smirked, shaking his head. “That feels… unnatural.”

Elena chuckled, setting her glass down as she slid onto the stool beside him. “Trust me it gets easier.”

She crossed one leg over the other, her dress sliding just enough to be noticed—and knew exactly what she was doing. Daniel tried not to stare. She smirked when he failed.

Daniel took a look at the woman, her legs on display for him. And the older Cuban woman just smirked back.

“You’re looking tired, Reyes.”

He chuckled. She had no idea, “It’s been a week let’s say that.”

“Poor thing. Tell me where’s that pretty wife of yours to ease the tension?” She asked almost accusatorially.

Daniel shifted at the moment, he looked uncomfortable at the moment. Daniel exhaled, staring at his drink like it held the answer to all his problems.

“Were … um … we’re separated.”

She raised an eyebrow, because that didn’t track. Back in L.A., Daniel and the blonde had seemed inseparable, golden even. The kind of couple people noticed and quietly rooted for.

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” she said, her tone softening.

Her hand found his forearm, warm and steady. The touch lingered it was grounding. There was something unexpectedly gentle in the way she looked at him now, almost maternal, though Elena Vázquez had never been anyone’s mother.

Daniel liked it. More than he wanted to admit.

“What happened?” she asked, voice low.

He took a long drink from his beer. He hadn’t really spoken about the details to anyone yet. So, this was more difficult to say. He finally spoke after what seemed like a minute. “She cheated on me,” he started, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Samantha. My wife. With her best friend, Olivia.”

He expected that

Elena raised an eyebrow, but didn’t react beyond that. “Hm.”

Daniel scoffed. “That’s it? Hm?”

Elena took another slow sip of wine. “Would you rather I say, ‘How shocking, Daniel, what a truly unique betrayal’? Because I’ve seen enough divorce cases to know this is barely scratching the surface of scandal.”

Daniel let out a short, bitter laugh. “Fair point.”

He took a deep breath, rubbing his temple. “It wasn’t just the cheating. It was her. Olivia. Her fucking best friend. I knew they were close. I just didn’t know how close.”

Elena hummed, watching him carefully. “And how’d you find out?”

Daniel exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Came home early one day. She looked a mess. Hair disheveled. Lipstick smudged. Told me nothing was wrong, but something wasn’t sitting right.”

Elena nodded knowingly. “So you investigated.”

Daniel smirked slightly. “I’m a lawyer. It’s what I do.”

“Mm,” Elena said, eyes glinting. “And?”

“I set up a camera.”

Elena didn’t flinch, truth be told she was rather intrigued at this story. She took a sip from her martini, never losing eye contact. “And?”

“And I watched them.” Daniel’s voice was flat. “I watched the footage. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Just the couch. The one I bought. The one we picked out together.”

He exhaled, low and bitter, it was different talking with judge Vázquez than it had been speaking with Marissa. “I listened to her laugh, it was like how she used to laugh with me.”

Elena caught the phrasing—used to. There was history there, fractures long before the affair. But she didn’t press. She just swirled her drink slowly and said, “I assume you confronted her.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I thought about it. About storming in and throwing the footage in her face. About the shouting, the crying, the drama of it all.” A bitter smile tugged at his mouth. “But I didn’t.”

He paused, then added, “I confronted Olivia instead.”

“The woman she cheated on you with.”

He drained the rest of his glass and set it down with a soft clink. “Told her I knew. Gave her an ultimatum.”

Elena’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. “What kind of ultimatum?”

Daniel leaned back, jaw tightening, he wasn’t proud of this next part. “Either she slept with me or I told the world.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Heavy. Still. Elena set down her martini. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet—but not soft. “And did she?”

“No,” he answered. “In the end I couldn’t go through with it. In the end I reminded myself too much of some of those men I helped put away.”

She looked to him unsure what to say, what there was to say about all that. “Well, that was a clusterfuck waiting to happen.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ever confront your wife after all that?” Elena asked, watching him over the rim of her glass.

Daniel hesitated, then exhaled. “Well… no. Not exactly.”

Elena arched an eyebrow. “Not exactly?”

“After all that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I ended up meeting Olivia’s wife.”

“Oh, fun,” Elena said, clearly entertained now.

“Yeah, well… one thing led to another and—”

“No,” she said, grinning now.

Daniel gave a sheepish little shrug. “We ended up in bed.”

Elena let out a low, incredulous laugh. “You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

Daniel shook his head, half in disbelief himself. “Apparently not.”

She leaned in just slightly, voice like velvet wrapped around a dagger. “Tell me, Reyes. Was it ****, curiosity, or just good old-fashioned chaos?”

Daniel considered that for a beat.

“Little bit of all three,” he said. “Plus whiskey.”

“Got to say, you’re a hell of a lot more chaotic than you were back in LA,” she said hopelessly amused.

Before Elena could continue her interrogation. Another voice spoke up, “Elena, there you are. I see you’ve found some company.”

The voice was one full of old world money and prestige. The sort of thing that commanded rooms. And when he turned he saw another face. One he recognized from television.

Senator Vivian Stone was standing right in front of him.