Perfect decelt

Flashback

The boardroom lights flickered, like even the bulbs could sense the shift in power. I sat curled in the wide leather chair, legs too short to reach the floor, watching my world unravel in real-time.

My father's voice cut through the room-raw, furious, betrayed.

"You're making a mistake, Robert!" he barked, fists clenched at his sides. "We built this together. Remember that!"

Robert Lautner didn't flinch. Tall, composed, and cold as hell, he lifted a single brow. "I'm securing Laveldi's future, James. You've become... obsolete."

I didn't know what that word meant back then. But I knew what it did to my father. I saw him stumble, like the word itself had struck him square in the chest. Emily Lautner stood beside him, poised and silent, her eyes like polished glass-beautiful, but empty.

And then it happened-the moment that burned into my memory forever. The guards stepped in, their presence heavy, and escorted my father out like a criminal. His eyes swept the room, searching, and landed on me through the glass wall. He didn't look afraid.

He looked ashamed.

I didn't cry. Not even when my mother wrapped her arms around me, shielding me from the boardroom applause that followed. The kind of applause that only came when empires changed hands.

"Don't look, sweetheart," she whispered into my hair. "Just remember. Always remember who they really are."

I did.

I remembered everything.

Now

The courtroom was silent-an electric kind of silence. The kind that hangs in the air after a storm's passed, but before the sun comes out.

I stepped forward, each heel strike echoing sharp and clean on the marble floor. The defense attorney sat stiff and pale, jaw clenched like he already knew I'd buried him.

"My client," I said, my voice smooth and even, "wasn't just misled. She was targeted. Exploited. Humiliated by a system designed to protect predators in suits."

I turned to the jury, eyes sharp and unflinching.

"Today, you get to prove that justice isn't just a game played by the wealthy. Today, you remind the world that victims fight back... and win."

The opposing counsel didn't even try to object. He looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.

When the verdict came-guilty on all counts-there wasn't a cheer. Just silence again. But this time, it was the good kind. The kind that meant, for once, the system had done its damn job.

I didn't smile. I didn't need to. My eyes did the talking as I packed up my case files and glanced over at Beverly.

Her eyes were watery with relief as she rushed toward me, clinging to my hand like it was the only thing tethering her to her freedom.

"I know thank you isn't enough, but I'll still say it," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You didn't just save me... you gave me my future back."

I gave her a warm smile. "I'm just glad the truth finally came out. Your name needed to be cleared."

Defending her had been a war zone. Setbacks, late nights, endless pressure. But we'd won.

"I never thought anyone would believe in me again," she said, eyes glistening. "Everyone just assumed I was guilty. Like I was disposable."

I looked her in the eye, pulling my ponytail tighter with one hand. "I believed you the second I met you, Beverly. You didn't steal that money-they wanted you gone. A threat in their perfect little hierarchy. But you? You've got a future worth fighting for. You just needed someone in your corner."

She nodded, swallowing back tears.

With a nod to her and no words left to say, I strode out of the courtroom.

I don't usually drink.

But that night, I poured two fingers of scotch in my office and stood by the window, watching the city's lights flicker like a million tiny promises. My suit was still crisp, my back too straight for someone who'd just won a career-defining case.

Victory didn't taste sweet.

It tasted... sterile. Like I'd expected it to.

The door creaked open without a knock.

I turned slowly, scotch in hand. "This better be an emergency."

It wasn't Samantha. It was the last person I ever expected to see in my office.

Stephan Lautner.

He looked like a magazine cover-tailored navy suit, sharp jaw, and those silver eyes I'd only seen in pictures. But seeing them in person? They were even colder.

"You're trespassing, Mister," I said, keeping my voice cool and disinterested.

"I knocked," he said, stepping inside like that justified the intrusion.

I set my glass down and rose, every inch the composed professional. "And I didn't answer."

"You're as warm and sweet as I remember," he muttered.

I arched a brow. "Do I know you well enough to remember you?"

He chuckled, low and dry. "We used to play in the same parks. I held your hair back when you puked cake at the Laveldi gala."

I let that sink in-and then hit back. "And then you stood by while your father threw mine out of this company like trash."

His smile vanished. "I was a kid, Paisley. I couldn't stop it."

"Then why are you here? If not to dig up ghosts?"

He took a step closer, and I hated that I noticed how good he smelled. "Help," he said simply.

I laughed. Once. Sharp. "Help? I'm not in the business of saving Lautners."

"Not even if Laveldi is rotting from the inside?" he asked. "And you're the only one who can stop it?"

I studied him, searching for the lie. But it wasn't there. He was desperate. Trying not to show it, but I saw it.

"You're serious?"

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

I leaned against my desk, arms folded. "You know who my father was, right? What your family did to mine?"

"I do," he said. "That's exactly why I came to you. Because if there's one person who won't lie to me-it's the daughter of the man we betrayed."

There it was.

Betrayed.

The word hung between us like an accusation. And he didn't run from it.

"You expect me to believe this is some moral epiphany?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "I came to you because you're the best damn attorney in this city. Someone's bleeding Laveldi dry from the inside. If I don't stop it, they'll sell everything off in pieces. And worse, our competitors will crush us in the process."

I narrowed my eyes.

"It won't just be my father's legacy they bury," he added.

I turned back to the window, scotch warming my hand.

"Give me one reason," I said slowly, "not to call security and have you dragged out. Just like your father did to mine."

He didn't blink. "Because I'm not my father. And because I think you want the truth just as much as I do. You want justice. And maybe... you want to reclaim what was stolen."

Damn him. I hated that he wasn't wrong.

He placed his card on my desk. "If you change your mind, call me."

I didn't stop him as he reached the door.

Then, just before leaving, he turned and said softly, "Your dad was better than they ever were, Paisley. That's why I came to you to fight for him."

When the door clicked shut, I stared at that business card for a long, long time.

Then... slowly.... I reached for it.