Lark was sitting in her office Monday morning, her father and Bobbie both looking at her expectantly while she kept her hands folded on her desk trying to quell the rage broiling her skin like it was aflame.
“This is a joke?”
“It is no joke,” her father gave a loud sigh.
“Fifty million dollars?”
“He thinks he can get it. The minute he found out Max Villeneuve was the one who beat his face in, he immediately saw dollar signs. He’s alleging your actions at the firm were over the top and you lured him to the house knowing he would follow so Max would pound him into the dirt.”
She tried to pretend her father’s muttered “should have killed him” didn’t escape his lips as she focused on Bobbie’s words. “He’s using this jacked up ambulance chaser of a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Can we counter sue?”
