The glow of triumph lasted precisely as long as it took Britney to find an empty cubicle and open the daunting merger document. One hour. Klaus Smith had given her one hour to draft a legally sound amendment that could withstand the scrutiny of both his razor-sharp mind and Anderson's hostile lawyers. The weight of the task was immense, but it was a weight she understood. This was just a more intense version of every all-nighter she'd pulled in law school.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the Apex vs. Veridium case she'd cited. The hum of the office faded into white noise. This was her element: the logic of the law, the strategic placement of a precedent, the precise language that could build a fortress or bring one down. She drafted, refined, and cited, her focus absolute.
With three minutes to spare, she sent the draft to Mr. Higgins's inbox and then, taking a fortifying breath, printed a copy. She walked back to the conference room just as the meeting was adjourning. Lawyers filed out, looking emotionally drained. Mr. Higgins avoided her eyes entirely.
Klaus was still seated at the head of the table, scrolling through something on his tablet. He didn't look up as she approached.
"Sir? The draft amendment."
He extended a hand without glancing her way. She placed the paper in it and waited, her hands clasped neatly behind her back. He read it, his expression unchanging. The silence stretched. Britney's mind began to conjure a hundred criticisms. Too bold. Not bold enough. He thinks I'm presumptuous.
Finally, he set the paper down. "Adequate."
It wasn't praise. It was a simple statement of fact, but from him, it felt like a standing ovation. A tiny smile threatened to break through her professional mask. "Thank you, sir."
"Your summation of the precedent's applicability was... efficient." His glacial eyes finally lifted to hers. "Where did you study?"
"State University, sir. On a full scholarship." She never missed an opportunity to say it. It was her badge of honor.
A barely perceptible flicker of something—surprise?—crossed his features. State U was a good school, but it wasn't the Ivy League cradle of privilege that typically fed into Titan Global's upper echelons. "Higgins," he said, his voice cutting through the room as the lead counsel tried to slip out the door. Higgins froze. "The intern will be assigned to the Verity Labs acquisition due diligence. She has a competent eye for detail. Ensure she's utilized."
Higgins's face paled, then reddened. "Mr. Smith, the Verity files are highly sensitive. Perhaps a more experienced—"
"Did I stutter?" Klaus's tone was soft, lethal.
"N-no, sir. Of course. Carter, with me." Higgins turned on his heel and strode away, expecting her to follow.
Britney moved to go, but Klaus's voice stopped her. "Carter."
She turned back. "Yes, sir?"
"Don't mistake a single adequate performance for secured employment. This building is filled with people who had one good idea." He picked up his tablet, his dismissal absolute. "Prove it wasn't a fluke."
The message was clear: he'd thrown her a challenge, but he expected her to sink or swim entirely on her own merit. It was the most respectful dismissal she could have hoped for.
Her new task was a mountain of dry, complex paperwork—verifying patents, contracts, and intellectual property for a small tech firm Titan was acquiring. It was tedious, crucial, and exactly the kind of work senior lawyers pawned off on interns. But to Britney, it was a treasure trove. She lost herself in the minutiae, cross-referencing dates, names, and clauses.
As she was cross-referencing a list of Verity's core researchers with their patent filings, a name in the footnotes of an old contract caught her eye: Lorraine Finch. It was listed as a witness. A cold, strange little feeling prickled at the back of her neck. Finch. That was the last name of the woman who had raised her—the woman she called Mom. A common enough name, she told herself. But the feeling lingered, an odd echo in the sterile office.
She shook it off, attributing it to fatigue and first-day nerves. She was about to dig deeper when a voice, sweet as syrup and sharp as a razor blade, cut through the quiet of the legal floor.
"Klaus, darling! I hope I'm not interrupting anything terribly important."
A woman glided into the area, a vision of effortless wealth. Her designer dress hugged her frame perfectly, her blonde hair was styled in soft, expensive waves, and her smile was dazzling and entirely for Klaus's benefit. Britney recognized her instantly from society pages: Serene Finch, the beloved only daughter of the renowned Finch family, known for their vast publishing empire and historic legacy.
Klaus emerged from his office, his expression unreadable. "Serene. This is an unexpected visit."
"I was lunching with Mother nearby and thought I'd pop in. You've been so busy lately." She looped her arm through his with a practiced familiarity that made something in Britney's stomach twist oddly. She wasn't jealous—that was absurd. It was just... the contrast. Serene was everything Britney wasn't: born into grace, swaddled in luxury.
Serene's gaze swept the room, and for a fleeting second, it landed on Britney. There was no recognition, only a faint, dismissive curiosity, as if wondering why a piece of furniture was slightly out of place. Then her eyes were back on Klaus, full of adoration.
Britney looked down at her screen, at the name 'Lorraine Finch' in the document. Finch. A common name, she repeated to herself. It had to be.
But as she listened to Serene's tinkling laugh and watched Klaus tolerate her presence with cool politeness, the strange, cold feeling returned. It was the feeling that two vastly different worlds were about to collide, and she was standing directly at the impact point.