As Logan led me toward the conference room, I caught a glimpse of the waiting area. Madison was there, anxiety radiating off her like she was about to take the SATs drunk. Tommy had shown up, probably ditching class, looking miserable but loyal. Even Connor was there, no doubt live-streaming this shitshow for clout.
'The disaster squad assembled. How touching. Somebody get us matching t-shirts.'
"Your attorney is Nathaniel Sterling," Logan informed me. "He's... intense." (Not related to the Sterlings, the old money family)
That was underselling it. When I walked in, I was met with the human embodiment of a cease-and-desist letter. Nathan Sterling looked like what happens when you crossbreed a shark with Harvard Law.
Mid-forties, silver fox hair, eyes sharp enough to cut a 1099 form, and wearing a suit that probably came with its own security clearance.
