Phones ring in shrill succession, staccato bursts of noise that cut through the otherwise seamless calm of my office. I sit surrounded by polished surfaces and sharp lines, reviewing case files with meticulous attention. Outside, the firm hums with purpose—associates conferring in hushed tones, the scent of expensive cologne mixing with fresh coffee, creating an intoxicating blend that hints at power and ambition. I have a grip on all of it, or so I think, until my assistant knocks. His arrival, though expected, throws me. Early. I push my hair back, a subconscious gesture of control, and watch as he enters with confident strides, a tailored suit draping his athletic frame like a second skin. Lucas Knight. Our handshake lingers a beat too long, enough for a jolt to pass between us. Enough
