Mike hovered outside the office, the name FRANKLIN SAINT etched on the glass in sharp, modern lettering. He took a breath, knocked, and entered at the quiet command from within.
Franklin was at his desk, not looking at a screen, but idly tossing a baseball into the air and catching it. The office was minimalist, expensive, and felt more like a gallery than a place of work.
"Ross," Franklin said, not looking away from the ball's arc. "If this is about Louis, don't. His bark is a permanent part of the firm's background noise."
"No, it's not that," Mike said, stepping further in. "It's about the Alvarez case. I filed the motion you suggested. The landlord's lawyer folded immediately. We reached a settlement. They get to stay, plus relocation costs and first refusal on their unit after the repairs. They… they cried. It was a good day."
Franklin caught the ball and finally looked at Mike. "Of course it worked. The law was on our side. You just needed to find the right lever." He placed the ball neatly in a stand on his desk. "You don't need to thank me. A win for you is a win for the firm. Saint Pearson Hardman's reputation is my reputation. You protecting it is thanks enough."
"I know, but still," Mike insisted, his earnestness overriding his nerves. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
Before Franklin could reply, the door opened without a knock. Jessica Pearson stood there, her gaze sweeping the room and landing on Mike. He felt a jolt of pure panic, his mind screaming she knows, she has to know, and he immediately started edging toward the door.
"Jessica," Franklin said, his tone neutral.
"Franklin," she replied, her eyes still on Mike. "Poaching Harvey's associate already? That's a new low, even for you."
Mike froze. "I was just leaving."
Franklin gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Please. I have no interest in an associate. I didn't want one when I made senior partner, and I certainly don't need one now. The boy was just expressing gratitude for a minor pointer. Seems he's more polite than the rest of the zoo out there."
Jessica's lips quirked in a faint, knowing smile. "That's true. You've always been a lone wolf." She turned her formidable attention back to Mike. "You can go."
Mike didn't need to be told twice. He nodded, muttering a quick "Ms. Pearson," and practically fled.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Jessica's smile faded. She turned back to Franklin, all business now. "Cissy came by while you were in court."
Franklin's relaxed posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. "My sister was here? Why?"
"She left this for you." Jessica placed a thick legal file on his immaculate desk. "The Saint John Group is being sued. A wrongful death suit. One of the drivers from the new logistics division."
Franklin's face was a mask of calm, but his eyes had gone cold. He reached for the file. "I see. Thank you for bringing this to me directly, Jessica."
"I still don't get it, Franklin," she said, shaking her head. "You own a multi-billion dollar company. You could be on a yacht right now. Why are you here, practicing law?"
Franklin looked up from the file, a hollow, charming smile on his face. "What can I say? I have a passion for the law. And in cases like this, who better to protect my parents' legacy than me?"
Jessica held his gaze for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Good luck." She turned and left, her heels clicking a sharp rhythm down the hall.
The moment the door closed, Franklin's smile vanished. He snapped the file open, his eyes scanning the first page. Then the second. His jaw tightened. He flipped to a specific document, his eyes narrowing as he read the details, the plaintiff's name, the circumstances.
He slammed the file shut, the sound cracking through the silent room.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he whispered, the words laced with a venomous disbelief.
He stabbed the intercom button on his phone. "Get my sister on the line. Now. Set up a meeting at the penthouse."
Harvey's Office
Mike pushed open the door to Harvey's office, a stack of files tucked under his arm and a grin he couldn't suppress plastered on his face. Harvey was on the phone, his back to the door, speaking in low, confident tones. Mike waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Harvey finished his call, swiveling around in his chair. He took one look at Mike and raised an eyebrow. "What's with the face? You look like the cat that got the canary, the cream, and the family goldfish."
"The Alvarez case," Mike said, stepping forward and dropping the file onto Harvey's desk with a satisfying thud. "Settled. The family keeps their apartment, gets all relocation costs covered, and has first refusal rights after the renovations."
Harvey leaned back, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his own face. He didn't open the file. "Tell me you didn't just get lucky."
"I didn't get lucky," Mike said, the words rushing out. "The landlord was bluffing. His entire case was built on a misapplication of Borough Code 12-4.5, clause C. Capital improvements for habitability require a failure affecting multiple units. A single apartment's plumbing is just a repair. I filed a motion for wrongful eviction citing Garcia v. The Wellington Group. Their lawyer folded before the ink was dry."
Harvey stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a single, sharp nod. "Garcia. That's a deep cut for a first-day associate who supposedly didn't go to Harvard."
Mike's grin faltered for a split second. "I… I read the statute. The precedent was there."
"It's always there, Mike," Harvey said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Most people are too lazy, or too stupid, to find it. You're not most people." He paused, letting the compliment hang in the air. "So. You did good. I mean, you used a sledgehammer to crack a nut, but the nut is cracked. Don't let it go to your head."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Mike said, the grin returning full force.
"Good. Because while you were playing housing advocate, I got you a real case." Harvey slid a new, much thinner file across the desk. "Commodities broker. Thinks his partner is skimming from their trades. It's a simple fiduciary duty breach. Should be easy for you."
Mike picked up the file, his heart thumping with a new kind of excitement. A real case. "I won't let you down."
"You'd better not." Harvey's eyes narrowed slightly. "By the way, Louis came by earlier. He was spitting mad. Said you were showing off for Franklin Saint."
Mike's stomach dropped. "It wasn't like that. He saw Louis chewing me out in the bullpen and stepped in. He just looked at the file for thirty seconds and told me what to do."
Harvey let out a short, humorless laugh. "Of course he did. That's what Franklin does. He looks at a problem and it just… solves itself in his head. He's the smartest person in this building, maybe in this city, and he knows it." He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "But let me be very clear, Mike. He is not your friend. He is not your mentor. He is a vortex. He helps people when it amuses him or serves his purpose, and the second you become inconvenient, you'll find yourself on the outside looking in so fast it'll make your head spin. You work for me. Understood?"
"Understood," Mike said quickly. "It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't." Harvey waved a hand, dismissing him. "Now get out of here. Go be a lawyer. And try not to use any more of Franklin's cheat codes."
Mike turned to leave, the new file feeling both heavy and exhilarating in his hands.