“You’re not seriously considering this, are you?” Harper said, her voice low but sharp as she leaned across the polished mahogany table. The dim light of the private study caught the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, her dark curls framing a face that was equal parts frustration and disbelief. Zachary sat across from her, his tie loosened, his expression calm but calculating.
They’d known each other for years—colleagues at the firm, though Harper had always been the one to play by the rules. Zachary, on the other hand, had a reputation for bending them. Tonight, he’d called her here under the guise of a late-night strategy session, but the folder he slid toward her told a different story. Harper’s sharp green eyes scanned the documents, her lips pressing into a thin line. She was tall, with a lean frame that carried an air of authority, but right now, she looked smaller, cornered.
“You don’t have a choice,” Zachary said, his voice smooth as he leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly. “Either you help me bury this, or I make sure the Bar Association hears about your little… oversight.” Harper’s hand trembled as she closed the folder, her mind racing. She glanced at the clock on the wall—11:47 p.m.—and wondered how the night had spiraled so far out of control. “Tick-tock, Harper,” Zachary said, his smile faint but unmistakable. “What’s it going to be?”
Fast
Good