by Holly Rayner
I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my entire life.
What’s that term—imposter syndrome? Yeah, imposter syndrome and I were very well acquainted. And it was like the friend who comes over to your house at exactly the wrong time. Every. Single. Time.
Beside me, my client, Josh Lee, was standing with his chin up as well, his eyes laser-focused on the judge as he waited to hear the outcome of this case that he’d spent every cent he had to bring against the defendant.
And what a defendant it was. Harmon-e Music Group. Oh nothing, only the biggest music production company out there. The record label that all artists wanted to be with. The corporation that had the Top 40 covered and had the number one record. Every. Single. Week.
The richest record company in the country. In the world, actually, if you wanted to come right down to it. The record company with the most power, and the scariest, most expensive lawyers they could find.
It had been a huge case. And I still didn’t know why Barbor and Associates—the firm I worked for—had handed it over to me, one of the lower-level lawyers in the corporate law division. I’d never prosecuted such a big case before, and I certainly hadn’t done anything to make them think I could.
They’d barely even let me touch the more interesting intellectual property cases in my time there. Because, according to them, my resumé didn’t show that I had enough experience yet.
But hand it over they had—maybe so I could actually start building the experience they wanted to see. Maybe because they’d wanted to hand it to a younger woman who would play better in the music industry. Whatever their reasoning, I’d spent every second of my life for the last six months learning about the music business, including how it worked and how copyrights functioned in that particular industry.
And it had turned out that no matter how big and powerful you were, and no matter how much money you had to spend, you still weren’t allowed to lift one artist’s music right off the internet and use it for an artist signed to your own record label—which was exactly what Harmon-e had done. Josh had recorded a song and released it via an online streaming service, produced and recorded in his own basement, and it had gone right to the top of the site’s charts in terms of downloads and thumbs-ups.
Which was when Harmon-e had stepped in, lifted the track, and transferred it into the background of a song one of their own artists was putting out.
And that song had gone right to the top of the Billboard charts nationwide. Which was when Josh had heard it—and recognized his own beats.
In short order, Josh had mortgaged his house—as had his parents—and signed Barbor to the case, suing Harmon-e for copyright infringement and a tidy sum of money. They’d assigned the case to me, choosing one of their junior members because, I thought as I stood there in front of the judge, none of the higher-ups had wanted to go up against Harmon-e. None of the higher-ups had wanted to stand here like I was doing right now, waiting to have their butt handed to them.
Well, we were about to hear exactly how I’d done with the case they didn’t want to take on. Hence the heart-beating-out-of-my-chest thing. Hence the fifty reporters packed into the back of the courtroom. And hence the judge staring down at me from on high, his face looking like I had somehow personally offended not only him, but also his mother and all of his ancestors.
That doesn’t have anything to do with the verdict, the voice of reason that sometimes spoke to me said. He’s looked like that through the entire hearing.
Right. The man seemed to think that wearing the title of ‘judge’ meant you had to try to kill people with the ferocity of your scowls—which I didn’t think was true at all, for the record. Still, it hadn’t seemed so… aggressive before, when we’d just been making our arguments and talking to witnesses.
Now, it felt a whole lot more personal.
Then the judge started talking, and I stopped thinking entirely.
“We’ve heard the arguments from both sides and reviewed all the evidence, and honestly, I can’t say that this was all that difficult,” he started, sending my stomach plummeting right through the floor.
Oh, God, if it hadn’t been difficult, did that mean Harmon-e had just paid him enough to stop paying attention? Had my lack of experience really shown through that clearly? Had I just embarrassed not only myself but also my firm, and guaranteed that I’d never make it out of ‘junior’ status?
“It seems obvious,” the judge continued, “that the track in question was in fact first recorded by John Lee, given the date when he uploaded it, and the date when Harmon-e’s artist actually used it.”
He put one hand up to forestall the objection he must have seen coming from Harmon-e’s lawyers and transferred his look of extreme disapproval over to them. “Now, as the terms for fair-use trademark rights indicate, the first to actually publish intellectual property holds the legal trademark to said property, unless someone else can prove previous intellectual property rights. Therefore, as Josh Lee recorded the music first, and Harmon-e has failed to prove that their artist had any standing possession of the music, I hereby find in favor of the plaintiff. Harmon-e is to pay him four million dollars in fines and restitution, as requested, unless another agreement is negotiated between the plaintiff and Harmon-e’s lawyers. Court adjourned.”
He hit the gavel once and immediately stood to leave the room.
I, on the other hand, stood there staring at the judge’s back as he walked out of the courtroom, too shocked to be able to make my feet move.
Then I realized what had just happened. I’d just won my first big case, against one of the biggest companies in the world. I’d won. It was the big break I’d been waiting for—and, I hoped, the jumpstart that my career needed.
I’d won.
I spun toward Josh, a grin plastered across my face, and saw him wearing an expression of shock and then glee, much as I must have been. He turned to me a moment later, his arms spread wide, and we hugged joyously, laughing.
“I can’t believe we won!” he said, pulling back.
“We won because we were in the right,” I said warmly. “We won because that music belongs to you. Now we just have to get through the negotiations, and get you your money.”
He shook his head, still grinning. “And you become the lawyer that beat Harmon-e. Pretty soon, you’ll be so big you won’t have time for clients like me.”
I took his hand and leaned in, returning his grin. “That will never happen. Now you go home and write more of that wonderful music of yours.”
“And you go home and take some time off work,” he returned. “Promise me that you’re going to take at least one night off.”
I grinned. “Too right. If there was ever a day to celebrate, it’s today.”
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Also by Holly Rayner
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The Sheikh’s Second Chance Lover
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The Sheikh’s Surrogate Bride
The Sheikh’s Unexpected Twins
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The Sheikh’s Bride Bargain
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The Sheikh’s Forbidden Baby
MORE THAN HE BARGAINED FOR
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The Sheikh’s Quadruplet Baby Surprise
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The Sheikh’s Borrowed Baby
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The Tycoon’s Temporary Twins
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Sold To The Sheikh Bidder
The Sheikh’s Stolen Lover
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