Guess Again

Morgan sat in her hotel, her mind a blur, wait no, it was her eyes. She was crying. How could she have been so stupid? Maybe she should call Max, tell him to come back. But then she'd have to explain why she lied in the first place.

It's not like they were dating anyway.

"Why does he mean so much?" Morgan asked herself, as she tore off her shoes. A thought flickered across her mind that perhaps it was because they were similar.

"We're not that alike," Morgan grumbled to herself as she turned the shower on.

No, if you overlooked the strong ties to family, fierce competitors, and general appreciation for Formula 1 as a sport.

"I don't like Formula 1 anymore," Morgan said to herself as she scrubbed shampoo into her scalp.

No, if you overlooked that Morgan had clapped at those races and had been at the edge of her seat, waiting to see what happened next.

"It was for the cameras," Morgan said to herself as she dumped conditioner into her palm.

No, if you saw that cameras weren't pointed at her during several of the races.

"Would you shut up?" Morgan said to the voice.

The voice went quiet.

Morgan got out of the shower and dried herself off. Climbing underneath the covers, she then cried into her pillow. The one person she really let down, it seemed, was herself.

Early the next morning, Morgan was awake and went to the airport. Staring out the window as the plane soared into the air, Max kept popping up in her head. A sick feeling was in her stomach, but she pushed it down. Now was not the time to be sappy.

Morgan arrived back in New York, the city bustling on a Monday afternoon. She took a ride from LGA to her apartment downtown. Paparazzi were swarming outside her building, and she waited until the security guards had pushed people back.

"Miss Earling, why did you leave Red Bull?"

"Miss Earling, what are you doing to prepare your case?"

"Miss Earling, what about Max Verstappen?"

The last question hit Morgan like a gut punch, but she ignored it, walking into the building. The elevator ride seemed to drag on, and she pulled her keys out of her coat pocket and fidgeted with them.

The elevator dinged open and Morgan walked out, sliding the key into the lock. She stepped inside her apartment, sighing as she got to her bedroom and put her suitcase on the floor. Travelling always made her tired.

Opening her fridge, Morgan looked at her stash. She then checked her pantry and found a box of Cheez-its. Living alone had its ups and downs, one of them being loneliness.

Max, meanwhile, was back in Monaco for summer break. It didn't feel right, as his cats swarmed around his legs. He felt he should've told someone about Morgan, but three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.

Absently, Max clicked on the TV, where the news anchor was discussing something trivial in world politics. He had never been one for world news, so he was about to click the TV off, when a thought entered his mind.

Would Morgan's case be on the news? Max had one American news channel, and he flipped to it.

"Morgan Earling arrived back from the Austrian Grand Prix today," the news anchor was saying, "to a flock of paparazzi outside her apartment."

Max shook his head, but he looked closer at the building. Maybe one day he'd surprise her and show up at her doorstep. Nah, that was a dumb idea.

The news anchor proceeded to list off Morgan's case, when it was happening and where it would be held. It was happening during break, so Max could catch the whole thing.

The day of the trial rolled around. Morgan stepped out of the Audi that had driven her to the courthouse. Swarms of media were there behind barriers, snapping pictures of her wearing her silk, all black jumpsuit, with the black blazer and gleaming gold jewelry. She hid behind sunglasses and a hat, her hair tightly pinned back. The sound of her heels on the marble floors would never get old to her, and she couldn't resist a smile sneaking onto her face.

"Morgan, right this way," a staff member said, walking with her to the courtroom, even though she was already surrounded by bodyguards.

There was a coat rack outside, where Morgan parked her hat and gently touched up her hair. She walked inside, every step a step of confidence and control.

In Monaco, Max was sitting on his couch, next to Charles, who had Alex curled up next to him. Their eyes were fixated on the screen as they watched the Audi pull up, and Morgan stepped out, her high heels clicking against the marble.

"Oh my," Alex breathed, "I have severely underestimated her."

It was true. Morgan's jaw was hard, and her stride made it look like she was going to war. Perhaps she was, thought Max. He watched her lips tick up slightly in a smile, then it vanished as she hung up her hat, straightened her blazer and walked into the courtroom.

They watched as Morgan sat down at the front of the room, her hands folded in her lap. The man next to her leaned over and whispered something. People filed in, and their quiet murmuring filled the courtroom.

"All rise," said the uniformed officer, and the judge entered.

There was much shuffling of papers and some people said some stuff, but Max didn't care. Until Morgan stood up, and walked over to the witness stand. She placed her hand on the Bible and swore on it.

"Miss Earling, what is your relation to the defendant?" One of the lawyers asked.

"He was my boss," Morgan replied calmly.

"And what happened on the morning of January 16 of this year?" The lawyer asked next. Morgan took a calm breath.

"I woke up, got dressed and I went to work. The receptionist told me Mr. Dellie wanted to speak to me, so I went into the conference room to meet with him. Mr. Dellie told me that I wasn't taking care of myself and that I was going to take part in a conservatorship. Unfortunately, it appeared that Mr. Dellie forgot I have a double major, one of them being in law.

"Mr. Dellie also tried to physically injure me, so I was forced to react with physical violence."

"What action did he take that made you react with violence?" The lawyer asked slowly.

"He stepped close to me and pulled his arm back. He was also angry with me." Morgan replied calmly.

"I see. And what did Mr. Dellie say that the arrangements of your conservatorship were?"

"I was supposed to live in Monaco and work twelve-hour days. I would be accompanied by a chaperone at all times, and not be allowed breaks."

"Alright, that's all."

Morgan sat back down, her face completely stoic. She kept her eyes forward and looked very focused.

Back in Monaco, Max watched Morgan's stoic calmness with a mix of awe and pity. How in the world could she hold her composure when what she was describing sounded so awful? He couldn't imagine it. He looked over and saw Alexandra pick up her phone, a curious look on her face.

A moment passed as the courtroom on the TV changed and another witness came forward. Max's head got a little quieter, and he hoped Morgan would be alright.

"Oh my gosh, Morgan has instagram," Alexandra said, "look at this."

Charles took a look at the picture Alex showed him, then passed the phone to Max. It was a picture of Morgan in all black, in her office, her feet up on the desk and sunglasses on her face.

The caption underneath read: If it keeps on raining, the levee's going to break. Well, the levee broke.

"What does that even mean?" Max asked, confused.

"I don't know," Alex said with a shrug, "she never mentioned anything about a levee or a dam when we hung out."

"It's all very strange," Charles added, "but we'll have to wait it out."

Ack