Sera's eyes burned.
She'd been scrolling through LinkedIn for hours—cross-referencing attorneys, skimming through portfolios, trying to decipher the legalese of their bios through the blur of sleep deprivation and half-drunk coffee.
Her hoodie sleeves were pulled halfway over her hands, and her phone buzzed every fifteen minutes with notifications from work, asking where she was. She ignored them.
Sera had taken a leave from her work, saying she got sick though technically, her manager knew she wasn't sick. It would probably cost her a day's pay. Maybe two. She could already feel her next paycheck shrinking in real-time. But she didn't care. Not today.
Sera had something bigger to fight for.
Her stomach was already an anxious knot, and her eyes were rimmed red. Then, almost like a glitch in the algorithmic universe, she paused on a profile that looked... promising.
"Mathew Harris – Civil Rights, Medical Ethics, and Fertility Law." Partner at Harris & Co. "Advocating for informed consent and the protection of bodily autonomy."
Sera clicked faster than she could think. She skimmed his articles—one on donor anonymity breaches, another on wrongful implantation cases, and several interviews where he'd spoken up about ethical malpractice in high-end fertility centers.
This guy gets it.
Two hours later, Sera was nervously adjusting her jeans in a leather chair outside his office in a quiet corner of the city.
The receptionist gave her a kind nod. "Mr. Harris will see you now."
Inside, the office was warm—not sterile and glassy like she'd imagined. Books filled the walls, real ones. Not decorative ones. The air smelled faintly of lemongrass and something earthy.
Behind a solid mahogany desk sat a man in his forties, clean-shaven, salt-and-pepper hair swept back like he hadn't bothered to hide the years of experience. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, a pen tucked behind one ear.
When he stood, he didn't tower—he welcomed.
"Sera Marlow?" His voice was soothing, not patronizing. Mathew gestured to the chair across from him.
"Yes. Thank you for seeing me." Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
"I read your email," he said, nodding. "It was... intense."
Sera swallowed. "It's been an intense month."
She explained everything—slowly at first, then with the speed of someone who'd been carrying too much for too long. The donation, the botched anonymity, the pregnancy, the billionaire, the contract. Everything.
Mathew listened. Really listened. He took notes, nodded at the right moments, didn't interrupt.
When Sera finished, she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "I don't want money," she shook her head. "I want independence. I want to live a life that doesn't feel hijacked by a contract I never signed."
Mathew leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his notepad. "There's a case here. A strong one."
Her heart thumped in her chest. "You think so?"
He nodded. "The fertility center failed in their legal duty of care. That's breach of protocol, mishandling of genetic material, and possible violation of reproductive rights."
A flicker of hope sparked in her chest. "So… you'll represent me?"
"I will," Mathew said, offering a warm smile. "And I won't bankrupt you doing it."
Sera blinked. "Seriously?"
"I believe in this case. I've seen too many like it buried under red tape and threats. But I need to tell you something before we go any further."
Her stomach twisted. Of course there was a catch.
Mathew folded his hands together, "I've gone up against Evander Ashford before."
Sera froze. "What?"
"Three years ago. Different case. Different client. It was a corporate litigation involving Ashford Biotech's acquisition of a smaller fertility lab. That case never made it to trial."
"Why not?" she asked, the back of her neck prickling.
"Because Evander buried it in arbitration," Mathew replied plainly. "He offered my client a deal they couldn't refuse and swept it all under layers of confidentiality agreements. Legally clean. Morally rotten."
Sera's mouth went dry. "So... you lost?"
"No. I settled." His gaze held hers. "But it taught me exactly how far Evander is willing to go to protect his empire."
"Why are you still willing to take this on, then?" she asked, not accusing—just... tired.
A dark laugh escaped his throat. "Because I don't like bullies."
"What do you mean?"
Mathew flipped to a page in his notes and turned it toward her. "You said he asked you to move in with him. That he wants you to pretend to be his fiancée."
"Seriously?" Sera clicked her tongue.
"Men like him don't do anything without motive. Especially not something this reckless."
Her pulse quickened. "You think he's vulnerable?"
"I think," Mathew said, leaning back in his chair, "Evander Ashford may have more to lose than you do. And that's exactly why we might win."
*****
By the time Sera reached her apartment building, morning had dipped fully into noon. She hadn't expected the morning to end with a migraine blooming behind her eyes.
All she wanted was a hot shower and real food. Maybe a few hours to pretend that filing lawsuit against one of the country's billion-dollar clinic and the billionaire didn't make her a walking target.
But peace didn't greet her inside her apartment.
Someone else did. Evander Thorne Ashford.
??????