Chapter 7 - The Legal Reality
Three weeks after my surgery, my recovery was progressing slowly, painfully, but steadily.
The nerve block had worn off long ago, leaving behind a deep, aching throbbing that required constant icing and strict physical therapy exercises for my fingers and wrist. I spent my days at Dad's house, working remotely with my left hand on my laptop, handling architectural site plans that didn't require heavy field visits.
Dad had officially filed the divorce papers, and the house was legally put into his sole possession pending the asset division.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, Rebecca Haines—Dad’s attorney—came over to the house for a formal consultation.
We sat around the dining room table. Rebecca was a sharp, fifty-year-old woman with dark hair pulled into a neat bun, holding a thick leather folder.
"Tessa," Rebecca said, opening her folder. "I’ve reviewed your medical reports from Dr. Arisaka, the billing statements from St. Anthony’s, the physical therapy projections for the next eight months, and the security video provided by Caleb."
"What are our options, Rebecca?" I asked.
"You have two distinct paths forward," Rebecca explained clearly. "First, civil litigation. You can file a personal injury lawsuit against Lena for battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, and gross negligence. Your out-of-pocket medical bills, lost wages, and future physical therapy total roughly sixty-eight thousand dollars. With pain and suffering, a jury in Jefferson County would easily award you upwards of two hundred thousand dollars."
I leaned back against my chair, processing the number. "And the second path?"
"Criminal charges," Rebecca said, her tone growing graver. "Because the attack resulted in severe bodily harm requiring surgical intervention, the district attorney’s office has reviewed the video clip Caleb posted. They have informed me that if you choose to press charges, they will indict Lena on a charge of Second-Degree Assault—a Class 4 felony in Colorado."
I looked at my father, who was sitting quietly beside me.
"Dad?" I asked softly. "How do you feel about this?"
Dad looked at me, his eyes clear and unfrightened. "Tess, this is your life and your body. For thirty-four years, everyone asked you to compromise so Lena wouldn't have to face reality. I won't do that to you today. Whatever you decide—whether you sue her, press charges, or walk away—I will back you one hundred percent."
I looked out the dining room window at the rain splashing against the glass.
I thought about Lena’s face as she watched me drowning in the pool. I thought about my mother demanding I lie to Caleb in the urgent care clinic. I thought about the decades I had wasted feeling inadequate because my family prioritized a bully over a victim.
"I don't want her in prison, Rebecca," I said slowly. "A felony record would destroy her ability to work forever, and then she would just spend the rest of her life living off Mom as a professional martyr."
Rebecca nodded understandingly. "So, civil litigation?"
"Yes," I said, my voice growing stronger. "I want full financial restitution for every single dollar of my medical bills, every hour of lost work, and every physical therapy session. I want a formal, signed admission of liability. And I want a permanent civil restraining order barring both Lena and my mother from coming within five hundred yards of me or my workplace."
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Rebecca offered a cold, satisfied smile. "That is an extraordinarily sensible, devastatingly effective resolution, Tessa. I will draft the formal demand letter today. If she doesn't sign the settlement and liability agreement within fourteen days, we proceed directly to a civil lawsuit and present the video to a jury."
"Send it," I said.