Rozenn Eirwen and Tamara Lee arrived at Grey Law Firm together the next morning, their heels clicking in unison across the marble foyer. The spring sunlight filtered through the glass façade, scattering prisms across the lobby floor. Rozenn's heart glanced at her wrist—8:02 AM—and she swallowed a nervous sigh. This was her second week at Grey Law Firm.
Tammy's hand found Rozenn's elbow. "Ready?" she asked, eyes bright.
"Ready," Rozenn echoed, smoothing a crease in her pencil skirt. Together, they stepped onto the elevator at the ground floor. The doors closed with a gentle whoosh, and the car began its ascent. For a moment, it was just the two of them and the soft hum of the cables above.
At the third floor, the elevator paused, its doors sliding open to admit a familiar figure: Mr. Grey, tall, dark-haired, impeccably dressed in charcoal gray. His coat draped neatly over one arm, his other hand brushing a strand of hair back from his brow.
"Good morning, Miss Eirwen," he said, voice even but warm on the word morning.
"Good morning, Mr. Grey," Rozenn replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Tammy offered a bright smile. "Morning, Mr. Grey."
He inclined his head just slightly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Then the elevator continued upward. Rozenn's pulse fluttered; she turned her gaze away from him, focusing instead on the polished stainless-steel walls and the slight reflection of her own face.
At the 9th floor, Tammy tapped Rozenn's shoulder. "This is me," she said, stepping out as the doors opened. "Don't bail on lunch."
Rozenn gave her a reassuring grin. "Wouldn't dream of it." Tammy waved and the doors slid shut.
The ride resumed, now with just Rozenn and Mr. Grey. The silence stretched comfortably until the elevator chimed and the doors parted on the fifth floor. The air outside the car felt different—understated bustle and hushed authority mingled beneath the high ceilings.
"Shall we?" Mr. Grey invited, stepping forward.
"Yes, please," Rozenn replied, matching his pace.
They reached the reception desk, where Trisha greeted them with perfect politeness that fluttered into a genuine smile when she saw Rozenn. "Good morning, Miss Eirwen."
"Good morning, Trisha," Rozenn answered.
"Mr. Grey," Trisha added, offering her best professional composure. Mr. Grey dipped his head in acknowledgment.
Behind them, the reception area opened into the main office. Rozenn found herself bathed in gentle light and warmed by the low murmur of conversations. Colleagues glanced up and called out greetings: "Morning, Rozenn! Morning, Mr. Grey!"
A few even sprang from their desks to offer a wave. Rozenn responded with a shy smile and a returning nod. The familiarity among the staff moved through her like a soft current; she realized how quickly she was becoming part of this collective rhythm.
As they walked toward Mr. Grey's office, Rozenn passed the desk of Soren, who was packing his briefcase.
"Off to court," Soren announced without stopping his motions. She gave Rozenn a quick salute. "Wish me luck!"
"Good luck, Soren," Rozenn called back. Soren winked and swept past her, out toward the elevator.
At the far side of the room, Onda bent low over the manila files in a haphazard stack. Mr. Collins himself was perched on his stool behind the desk, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed.
"Onda," Mr. Collins barked, "why aren't these paginated correctly? You missed a whole section."
Onda looked up, heavy-lidded. "I told you I was on coffee duty. It was your iced latte that spilled onto my notes."
Mr. Collins grumbled. "I told you I didn't want foam art." He shot Rozenn a glare that said avoid the sparks. Onda huffed and scuffed the ground, then muttered beneath her breath and returned to the files.
From the corner of her eye, Rozenn noticed Kim, leaned back in her chair with her phone in hand, scrolling and occasionally shaking her head.
"Client in 12B says he never got his paperwork," Kim complained. "I told him I'd call him back. He's going to love that."
Rozenn bit back a laugh and stepped on.
They reached Mr. Grey's door. He opened it and gestured inside. Rozenn followed him into the sleek, glass-walled office. She closed the door behind her and slid onto the leather guest chair without a word, her small notepad on her lap, pen poised.
Mr. Grey moved to his desk and removed a neatly labeled file. He turned it to Rozenn and said calmly, "Tomorrow at 9 AM, we have a pre-trial hearing in State v. Murphy. Today's priority: draft the memorandum on his alibi witness. I need your research and analysis by end of day."
"Understood, sir," Rozenn said, flipping to a clean page.
He paused, gaze drifting to her fingers cracking the pen cap. Then, as though correcting an afterthought, he added, "Also—there's a court session in ninety minutes. We leave in thirty. Be ready."
Rozenn nodded. "Yes, sir," she answered and stepped out.
Back at the office, Onda now was now seated and seemed to have corrected whatever Mr. Collin was yelling about earlier.
"Morning, Onda," Rozenn ventured as she sat on her own seat beside Onda's.
"Rozenn," Onda replied coolly, already rifling through a stack of folders. "I've got your files from yesterday. Where did Mr. Grey want them filed?"
"Under 'Active – Hendricks Appeal.'" Rozenn tried to mirror Onda's efficiency.
Onda nodded once and passed the folders over. "Consider it done."
Rozenn set to work organizing the Hendricks appeal on her notebook and logged into the database to pull relevant case law. The clicking of her keyboard felt like a metronome, anchoring her in purpose.
In just about twenty five minutes, Rozenn had outlined the chronology of the Hendricks case and highlighted points for further research. At that moment, Kim leaned over.
"Rozenn—client on line three. It's Mrs. Vance about her estate dispute."
She frowned. "Do you have her file?"
Kim pointed to a yellow folder labeled "Vance Estate." "She's nervous, keeps changing her story."
Rozenn stood. "I'll take it." She picked up the phone. "Ms. Vance, this is Rozenn Eirwen, assistant to Mr. Grey."
On the other end, a shaky voice. "Thank you for calling me back so quickly. I just—I don't know what to do."
"Take your time. I've reviewed your file. Let's go over the dates again." Rozenn's tone was calm, reassuring. She jotted notes as Mrs. Vance described disputed assets and a contentious relative. Fifteen minutes later, she promised to have Mr. Grey follow up after court.
When she hung up, Alan passed by with her coffee. "Sounds intense."
"Always is." Rozenn accepted the hot mug. "Thanks."
Alan grinned. "Good luck with the crying tomorrow." He winked and waved a file. "I'm off to court for a hearing with Mr. Ryan. See you later."
And with that, another assistant disappeared—camouflaged behind the swinging doors to the in-house mini-courtroom. The day was churning.
At 8:45 a.m., Mr. Grey emerged from his office—coat buttoned, briefcase in hand. He caught Rozenn's eye. "Ready?"
"Absolutely." Rozenn grabbed her notepad and followed him.
****************
They walked briskly to the elevator and stepped inside. The elevator rode in silence until it stopped at the ground floor. Mr. Grey strode ahead to his sleek black sedan. Rozenn caught up, her heels clicking on the marble.
Once inside, she settled into the passenger seat. He started the engine and pulled into the stream of early-morning traffic. For a few blocks, they said nothing, the hum of the engine and the thrum of the tires on asphalt filling the space between them.
Then Mr. Grey broke the quiet: "You'll find that courtrooms work best if you understand your witness. Heard our client's teenage sister struggled with anxiety. Reach out to her today."
Rozenn glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "I will," she replied.
He nodded, fingers lightly drumming the top of the steering wheel. "Also, you should call your family tonight," he added quietly. "They worry."
Unknown to him, those words gave Rozenn butterflies. He was the last person she expected to show personal concern. She cleared her throat and offered, "Thank you, Mr. Grey. I will."
He glanced at her, the corners of his mouth softening just a fraction. Then he returned his focus to the road.
************
The courthouse loomed ahead—a dignified stone edifice of tall columns and grand steps. Rozenn followed Mr. Grey up the steps, inhaling the crisp morning air. She'd been to this building countless times as a student, but never on the other side of the bar. Now, as his assistant, she felt its weight in a new way.
Inside, they checked in, passed through security, and found themselves in a wood-paneled corridor. Banners of prior judges and portraits of solemn figures lined the walls. The quiet hush of legal history pressed around them.
Mr. Grey paused before courtroom 5B. "Ready?" he asked, turning to her.
"Absolutely," Rozenn said, smoothing her blazer.
He stepped inside first, Rozenn right behind him. The room held two dozen seats for the public, a gallery of local citizens in muted tones of gray and navy. At the front sat the judge on his raised bench, gavel at the ready.
Rozenn found a seat at the defense table, pulled out her notepad and pen, and watched as her boss took his place.
The bailiff called the case: "State of Fairmont County v. Marcus Leary."
Mr. Grey stood, adjusted his tie, and addressed the court: "Your Honor, distinguished counsel, today we will demonstrate that the prosecution's case rests on circumstantial evidence at best. The alibi witness will confirm Mr. Leary's presence miles away from the scene."
His calm confidence struck Rozenn like a bolt of clarity. Every word he spoke carried weight. When he questioned the witness, his tone was respectful but firm. He smiled in just the right moments, coaxing complete and consistent testimony. He anticipated the prosecutor's objections, countering with swift, precise legal knowledge.
Rozenn's pen moved across the page in tiny scripts, jotting key arguments: "Absence of mobile-phone logs", "Inconsistent eyewitness timeline", "Forensic report uncorroborated". All the while, she couldn't ignore how striking he looked: the tailored suit, the slight crease in his trousers, the way his hair caught the morning light streaming through the courtroom windows.
At one point, when he leaned forward to make a point, his jawline cut a sharp silhouette, and Rozenn felt her cheeks grow warm. She swallowed and bent down slightly, pretending to review her notes.
The session continued for nearly four hours, the proceedings moving through witness after witness. Mr. Grey's cross-examination was a masterclass: measured, incisive, yet never cruel.
When the judge finally called recess, Rozenn shut her notebook with a quiet snap. Mr. Grey approached her table, gathered his files, and addressed the bailiff with, "We'll reconvene at 2 PM." Then he turned to her. "Good notes?"
"Yes, sir," Rozenn said, voice earnest. "I captured all your major points."
He looked at her for a moment that stretched, then said softly, "Well done."
Her chest tightened. "Thank you, sir."
He offered the barest nod and, together, they exited the courtroom.
Outside, the courthouse corridor felt warmer. Mr. Grey led Rozenn past the family waiting rooms, where anxious relatives paced. He paused by one group—a young woman with tears in her eyes clutching a tissue.
He approached gently. "Mrs. Leary?" he asked.
She nodded, sniffing. Mr. Grey spoke softly for a few minutes, offering reassurance about the afternoon's session. Rozenn hovered nearby, folding and refolding her hands. Watching him comfort the family revealed a side she had not yet seen: compassion untempered by legal detachment.
When he returned to her side, the afternoon light was slanting through the windows.
"Shall we grab lunch?" he asked. "I know a place."
Rozenn's pulse stuttered. "I—I'd be honored," she managed.
He consulted his watch. "Fifteen minutes to clear this building. Then we'll head downtown."
Rozenn reached for her phone and tapped out a quick text to Anouk:
"Hey, can't do lunch at the cafeteria today. Boss
whisked me away to a hearing. Lunch plans on hold, sorry! —Z"
Her phone buzzed almost immediately:
"No worries! Kill it in court, Zenny ❤️"
She slipped the phone away, relief washing through her.
Mr. Grey directed them to the courthouse exit. They walked across the plaza to his car, where he held the door for her as he had yesterday. Rozenn sank into the seat, thrilled and nervous at once.
"The restaurant?" she ventured.
He smiled. "My friend Marco's. Italian. Best in the city."
Within minutes, the car glided through downtown streets and pulled up at a cozy bistro down the block—warm lights, checkered tablecloths, and a smiling hostess who led them to a table by the window. Rozenn recognized the place from a social media post: it belonged to Mr. Grey's best friend, Marco.
Marco—tall, bearded, with easy charm—slid into the booth across from them. His eyes widened when he spotted Rozenn beside Mr. Grey.
"Evan, you've got a date?" he teased, loud enough for them both to hear.
Evan didn't blush; instead, he looked at Rozenn and said, "Marco, this is Ms. Eirwen, my assistant."
Daniel extended a hand. "Welcome. You're the talk of the firm—being able to keep up with this walking law robot."
Rozenn shook his hand, amused and flattered. They ordered their meals—grilled chicken panini for her, steak salad for him—and settled into casual conversation.
Over lunch, Rozenn described her little brother, Raymond: his endless video-game tournaments, his habit of sneakily raiding her snack stash, and how he'd insisted she smuggle him donuts for breakfast. Mr. Grey laughed—deep and warm.
"I have two sisters," he said, leaning back. "My elder sister, Yvonne, runs our Chicago branch. Married, five-year-old son. And my younger sister, Lena, is in high school—obsessed with K-pop."
"K-pop?" Rozenn echoed, eyes bright. "That's… adorable."
"She bombs me with playlists," he said, mock exasperated. "Half my car's speakers are playing BTS by mistake."
Rozenn grinned. "Sounds like a fun household."
He shrugged. "Chaos, mostly. But I wouldn't trade it." He studied her across the table. "What about you? Any other siblings?"
"Just Raymond—he's seventeen. And my parents live nearby. We've got pizza every Friday." She sipped her iced tea. "Big family dinners."
"Nice." He smiled. "Family's important."
The warm light of the bistro made the moment feel intimate. Rozenn tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you for lunch, Mr. Grey."
He waved a hand. "Consider it part of your training." Then he looked at her earnestly. "You're doing well, Rozenn."
Her pulse quickened. She dared to hold his gaze. "Thank you."
*******************
Back at Grey Law Firm by 3:00 p.m., the main office buzzed anew. Rozenn returned to her desk to find Lisa and Alan whispering conspiratorially.
"Lunch with the boss?" Lisa teased.
"Is that why your cheeks are pink?" Alan added.
Rozenn rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. "Just business."
They all laughed, and the afternoon settled into friendly banter.
Just minutes later, a ripple of excitement swept the office as the glass doors opened and a tall, confident looking woman entered. Dark hair, impeccable suit, and stride that commanded attention. The assistants rose, greeting her in unison: "Good afternoon, Miss Reyes."
Rozenn blinked. She had not met her.
Miss Reyes returned the greetings with a radiant smile. "Afternoon, everyone. Is He in?"
"His office," Trisha nodded toward the corridor. Miss Reyes strode off gracefully, and the assistants exchanged glances.
"Who is she?" Rozenn asked Kim.
Kim grinned. "Natalie Reyes. They call her Lady Destroyer."
Rozenn swallowed. She had heard whispers—Natalie Reyes was a force in the courtroom: incisive cross-examinations, brutal closing arguments, a record that made opponents quake.
"She's in the Women's Affairs department," Kim explained. "She obliterates cases—sexual harassment, assault, discrimination—you name it. People ship her and Grey as a power couple, but I think it's just office gossip."
"And she's close with Mr. Grey?" Rozenn probed.
Kim shrugged. "They went to law school together. Best friends."
Rozenn bit her lip, feeling an unexpected twinge of jealousy. Not at just her competence or beauty—but at her ease around Mr. Grey.
Moments later, both emerged from Mr. Grey's office, laughing over something he'd said. Natalie's laughter was musical—bright. Mr. Grey stepped aside, and she gave Rozenn a warm nod.
"Ms. Eirwen, I've heard good things. Welcome to Grey."
Rozenn straightened. "Thank you, Miss Reyes. It's an honor."
Natalie's eyes lingered on Rozenn before she smiled again. "If you ever need advice—clients, court strategy—come find me."
"Thank you."
Natalie waved and walked toward the elevator. Mr. Grey gave one last glance at Rozenn before following her.
The moment felt loaded. Rozenn exhaled, shaking her head to dispel the swirl of emotions
As Rozenn exhaled, Soren leaned over. "Don't get too starstruck—she's on your side."
Kim elbowed her. "Yeah, and now you've survived your first introduction to Ms. Reyes. Congratulations."
Rozenn laughed, exhaling the last of her tension. "Thanks, I needed that."
"Nothing to it," Alan said, dropping a stack of invoices on her desk. "Now, back to work."
*************************
The afternoon slid into evening. Rozenn drafted the Hendricks appeal memorandum, updated client invoices, and assisted Onda with last-minute deposition prep. By 6:30 p.m., the office lights had dimmed. Only a handful of desks were still occupied.
Mr. Collins swept past at 6:45 p.m., muttering about "late filers," and everyone ducked behind their screens until he was gone. Then they peered out, grinning.
At 7:00 p.m., the glass doors slid open. Mr. Grey emerged, sleek in his overcoat. He paused, saw Rozenn at her desk, and gave the slightest nod. She closed her laptop.
On cue, the other assistants stood. "Goodnight, Mr. Grey!"
He allowed a small smile. "Goodnight."
As he left, Rozenn felt the weight of the day lift, replaced by a hopeful flutter. She packed her bag, and the assistants filtered out in small groups, exchanging goodnights and tomorrow's coffee orders.
Out in the lobby, Rozenn found Tammy already waiting, leaning against a car. "How was today's training?" she teased.
Rozenn laughed, looping an arm through Tammy's as they walked to their own car. "Intense. Educational. Exhausting."
Tammy grinned nudging her slightly. "So, how was lunch?"
Rozenn launched into a recounting of the lunchtime stories—siblings, K-pop, childhood pranks—and briefly mentioned Natalie Reyes while Tammy drove them home under the glow of street lamps.
When they reached their apartment, both kicked off their shoes and headed straight for the living room couch, collapsing into its worn embrace.
"What about Natalie Reyes?" Tammy asked after a moment.
Rozenn shrugged. "She seems nice. But—" She paused. "I think I need to learn how to play it cool."
Anouk laughed. "You? Cool? Good luck."
Their laughter echoed. Soon, Rozenn's phone buzzed—it was her mother, calling to ask how week two had gone. Over dinner—a quick pasta Alfredo and salad—they chatted about deadlines and coffees and triumphs. Raymond's attempt to corner them on video-game theory made them giggle.
When the call ended, Tammy yawned. "Bed?"
"Bed," Rozenn agreed, heading to her room. She lay on her mattress without bothering to change, staring at the ceiling.
Today had been a whirlwind: early greetings, bustling files, the hush of court, the spark of lunch, and the challenge of a formidable colleague. Her mind danced between legal statutes and stolen glances. Tomorrow, the tide would rise again: new cases, new interactions, more proofs of her own capability.
But for now, she closed her eyes and let the soothing darkness carry her into well-earned sleep, whispering to herself one final promise: I will rise to this.