Curves,claws and contracts

Victor's First Move

The article dropped at 6am.

*EXCLUSIVE: TOP LAWYER AMARA JOHNSON ACCUSED OF TAKING BRIBES TO THROW CASE*

Fake bank statements. Fake emails. All with her name.

By 7am, her phone was dead. By 8am, her former clients were calling to drop her.

Amara sat in Damian’s kitchen in sweatpants, staring at the screen.

"It’s fake," she said. "All of it."

"I know," Damian said. He was already on three calls. "Legal is drafting a statement. PR is getting it down."

"That’s not enough." She stood. "I need to fight this."

"How? You’re not licensed right now."

"Then I’ll get licensed." She grabbed her bag. "I’m going to the bar association."

"Amara, wait—"

But she was already gone.

The bar association was a nightmare. Cameras. Questions. "Did you take the money?" "Are you and Damian Cole covering something up?"

Amara kept her head high. "No comment."

Inside, the head of the board was not kind. "Ms. Johnson, we’re opening an investigation. You’ll be suspended pending review."

"That will take months."

"Yes."

She walked out and nearly ran into Victor.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said. "Tough day?"

"You did this."

"Prove it." He smiled. "Oh wait. You can’t."

He walked away.

Amara went home and broke. Not loud. Just quiet. Sitting on the floor of her guest room, staring at nothing.

The door opened. Damian.

He didn’t say anything. He just sat on the floor next to her. Close but not touching.

"They think I’m a criminal," she whispered.

"I know."

"They think I’m nothing."

"I know."

"I worked so hard."

"I know."

A tear fell. Then another.

Damian reached over and took her hand. No rules. No contract. Just his hand in hers.

"You’re not nothing," he said. "You’re the only person in that courtroom who ever stood up to me. And you’re the only person I trust to help me take Victor down."

Amara looked at him. "Why me?"

"Because you’re brave. Because you’re loud. Because you make me want to be better."

The words hung there.

Then his phone buzzed. Legal.

_We found it. The IP address for the fake emails. It traces back to one of Victor’s shell companies._

Damian squeezed her hand. "We have them."

Amara wiped her face. "Good. Because I’m not done yet."

That night, they worked. Side by side. Going through documents, tracing money, building a case.

At 3am, Amara fell asleep on the couch. With legal papers in her lap.

Damian covered her with a blanket. And for the first time, he didn’t go to his room. He sat in the chair and watched her sleep.