Chapter Ten - The Price of The Robe
1019 Words
The oath tasted like ash in Ethan Cole's mouth.
He stood among dozens of newly admitted lawyers in the ceremonial hall, dressed in black and white, shoulders squared, face composed. The words flowed around him pledges of justice, fidelity to the law, service to the public good spoken with pride by men and women who still believed them.
Ethan repeated every word flawlessly.
That was the most dangerous part.
When the final declaration was made, applause filled the room. Parents wept. Cameras flashed. Futures were celebrated.
Ethan felt nothing.
Because he knew the truth no one else in the room could see:
The law was no longer his shield.
It was his weapon.
Outside the hall, Isabella found him.
She stood apart from the crowd, sunlight catching in her hair, eyes searching his face for something familiar something she was no longer sure existed.
"You did it," she said softly.
"I passed," Ethan replied. "That's all."
She frowned. "You're a lawyer now."
He adjusted his cuffs. "That doesn't mean what you think it means."
They walked in silence for a moment, the noise of celebration fading behind them.
"Adrian tried to call me," Isabella said eventually.
Ethan stopped.
"When?" He asked.
"Yesterday," she said. "From a private number."
Ethan's jaw tighthened. Adrian Wolfe had been professionally crippled, his reputation smeared just enough to stall his career. Victor had called it containment. Ethan had called it necessary.
"What did he say?" Ethan asked.
"He asked if I knew what you'd become," Isabella replied quietly.
Ethan looked at her. "And what did you tell him?"
She hesitated. "That I didn't know anymore."
That answer hurt more than if she'd condemned him.
Three weeks later, Ethan Cole appeared in court for the first time not as a student observer, not as an intern, but as counsel of record.
The courtroom smelled of wood polish and old power. The judge barely glanced at him, assuming youth meant weakness.
The prosecution presented their case with confidence.
Ethan dismantled it in twenty-seven minutes.
Procedural errors. Chain-of-custody violations. A witness whose statement contradicted her own affidavit.
By the time he finished the judge's tone had changed.
By the time he sat down, the case was effectively dead.
Outside the courtroom, a man Ethan didn't recognize nodded once and walked away.
Victor's network had noticed.
Ethan's name began to circulate quietly. Not in newspapers.
In corridors.
In whispered recommendations.
He's young, but he's precise.
He doesn't waste time.
If he takes your case, someone else loses.
Victor summoned him that night.
This time, the meeting was not in a warehouse or a shadowed room.
It was in a private dining suite overlooking the city.
"You've crossed another threshold," Victor said, swirling his wine. "You're legitimate now."
Ethan sat opposite him. "Legitimacy is an illusion."
Victor smiled approvingly. "Spoken like a man who understands power."
He slid a slim folder across the table.
"A client," Victor continued. "A senator. Indicted by morning. Guilty, of course but guilt is irrelevant."
Ethan opened the file.
The charges were serious. Public. Dangerous.
"This is high-profile." Ethan said.
"Yes," Victor replied. "Which is why it matters."
Ethan looked up. "You want me visible."
"I want you inevitable," Victor corrected. "Win or lose, your name becomes untouchable."
"And the cost?" Ethan asked.
Victor leaned forward. "You'll compromise something sacred."
Ethan closed the file.
"I already have," he said.
Victor laughed softly. "Good. Then we're aligned."
Isabella noticed the change before anyone else.
Not in Ethan's clothes or schedule but in his silence.
He no longer explained himself.
He informed.
He no longer reacted emotionally.
He calculated.
"You're disappearing," she said one night as they sat in his apartment, the city glowing coldly beyond the windows.
"I'm building something," Ethan replied.
"On what?" she asked. "People?"
Ethan didn't answer.
That was the answer.
The senator's case dominated the news.
Ethan worked relentlessly motions filed at dawn, meetings late into the night. He discovered leverage everywhere: a donor with secrets, a former aide with a grudge, a document misfiled years ago.
He didn't suppress the truth.
He redirected it.
When the charges were dropped "pending further investigation," Victor called within minutes.
"You're not just useful anymore," Victor said.
"You're essential."
Ethan hung up without replying.
Essential men were never free.
Adrian Wolfe reappeared two months later.
Not in public.
In Ethan's office.
He walked in unannounced, thinner, angrier, eyes sharper than ever.
"You burned me," Adrian said.
Ethan didn't stand. "I warned you."
"You used me," Adrian snapped.
"Yes," Ethan replied evenly. "And you used me too. Don't pretend otherwise."
Adrian laughed bitterly. "You think becoming a lawyer makes you untouchable?"
"No," Ethan said. "It makes me accountable."
Adrian leaned forward. "Then be accountable for this."
He dropped a file on the desk.
Inside were surveillance photos.
Marcus.
Mia.
Their mother.
"You think Victor is the only one watching?"
Adrian said quietly. "You're in a war you don't fully see."
Ethan felt the room tilt just slightly.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Adrian straightened. "The truth. And a chance to end this."
Ethan looked at the file again.
For the first time in a long while, fear stirred.
Not for himself.
For what he had dragged his family into.
That night, Ethan stood alone in his office, city lights reflecting off the glass walls. His law license lay framed on the desk.
He remembered the oath again.
Justice. Integrity. Service.
He had twisted every word.
But perhaps not beyond repair.
His phone rang.
Victor.
"Your first year as a lawyer," Victor said warmly. "And already indispensable."
Ethan said nothing.
"There's one more thing," Victor continued. "A final consolidation."
Ethan closed his eyes. "There's always a final something with you."
Victor chuckled. "This one involves a choice."
That word again.
"Choose," Victor said, "between being powerful....or being clean."
The line went dead.
Ethan stared at the darkness beyond the glass.
For the first time since taking the oath, he wondered whether the law could still save him or whether it was already too late.
Behind him the city roared.
Ahead of him something irreversible waited.
- Writer
