Chapter 1 - The First Counter-Strike
The sunlight cutting through the blinds of Marcus Webb’s Chicago law office felt brittle. Blake Carlson sat across the heavy walnut desk, his eyes locked on the sworn affidavit signed by his sister-in-law, Carrie Holland.
The allegations were chillingly precise and entirely fabricated. Carrie claimed that Blake had a history of explosive temper outbursts behind closed doors, that he had allegedly pushed Ethan during an argument months prior, and that Vera had spent years "covering for him to preserve the family unit."
“They aren't just defending her custody rights,” Marcus said, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “They’re pre-emptively trying to neutralize your negligence claim by painting you as the abusive household threat. Classic family cartel playbook. The Hollands stick together, no matter how dirty the lie.”
Blake didn't flinch. His background as a prosecutor taught him to look past the emotional sting of a lie and examine its construction. “It’s sloppy,” Blake said evenly, tapping his finger against the paper. “Look at the date and timestamp on Carrie’s affidavit. It was notarized downtown at 4:15 PM on Tuesday.”
“So?”
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“So, Tuesday at 4:15 PM, Carrie posted a geotagged Instagram story of herself at a boutique in Naperville, forty miles away. Unless she can teleport, that affidavit contains perjury.”
Marcus blinked, a slow, approving grin spreading across his face. “Well, well. Looks like prosecutor Blake Carlson never really left the building. Let’s pull the security footage from that boutique and get the notary’s logs subpoenaed. If we can prove they suborned perjury in the first filing, the judge will tear their entire credibility to shreds.”
