He should've known. He should've ran, or better yet, not even gone to that God forsaken house. It was all his fault. Because he was fifteen minutes late to a family dinner, his half-brother, sister-in-law, and unborn niece or nephew were dead. Gone, and he was getting blamed for it. He couldn't kill them; couldn't hurt his own family. Why were they blaming him? His fingerprints were there, he was found covered in their blood, and an affair that had taken place over ten years ago. He couldn't afford a lawyer, he was on a teacher's salary. Oh God, what will his students think? He can't believe that this will be all over the news; his face will be on every TV screen in the country for something he didn't even do, but was sure America would believe. He buried his head in his hands and prayed that his lawyer will be a good one.

…

Kenna looked through the latest file that came across her desk. Sebastian de Poitiers: accused of killing his half-brother and pregnant sister-in-law. He claims he didn't do it; that they were getting together for a weekly Sunday dinner, and they were already dead when he walked in. He was hysterical when the police found him and had an affair with his late sister-in-law over ten years ago. Mary getting pregnant had sent him over the edge, police claimed. The guy looked innocent enough: clean-cut, slightly messy dark brown hair, and striking blue eyes framed by black hipster glasses. He was a teacher. She really wanted to believe him, but she needed to meet with him before she formed an opinion. So, she made her way over to the jail.

…

Bash looked up when he heard the door open. He saw a slender, average height woman standing before him. She had caramel-colored skin, chestnut hair, and the prettiest green eyes he had ever seen. She was wearing a black suit, and he couldn't help but notice that her button-up blouse was strained over the chest, which meant her dress were an above average size. Get your mind out of the gutter, Bash. he thought. She's your lawyer, and she probably thinks you're guilty just like the police do.

"Hello, I am Kenna Harrison," she sat down in front of him and smiled as she set his file down on the table. "I'm your lawyer."

"I figured as much," he smiled back. "I'm Sebastian de Poitiers, but I would prefer it is you call me Bash, Mrs. Harrison."

"It's actually miss, but Kenna is fine. There's no need to be so formal."

He tried not to smile at the fact that she wasn't married, and tried not to be too discouraged at the fact that it didn't mean that she didn't have a boyfriend. He got his mind back on his case.

"I'm just here for background information, and to confirm the police report. We'll get into more detail later."

"Do you think I did it?" he asked softly, looking at the table.

"My opinion doesn't really matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"I don't want someone who doesn't think I'm innocent defending me."

"Honestly? I haven't formed an opinion yet. I wanted to talk to you first."

"Okay."

They went over the basics, and soon Kenna left. She decided she did believe him, but the circumstantial evidence against him was really strong. She had to prove that it was all that: circumstantial. That didn't mean it was true. It wasn't going to be easy, but she had a good feeling about it.