The gavel hit the wooden block with the finality of a coffin lid slamming shut.
"Motion denied. Case dismissed. Court is adjourned."
Emily Rose sat frozen in her rickety chair as Judge Morrison's words echoed through the half-empty courtroom. Her client, Maria Santos, let out a sob behind her. The sound cut through Emily's chest like a rusty knife.
Three strikes. You're out.
That's what they said in baseball. In law, it was even simpler. Three major losses meant goodbye law license. Goodbye ten years of fighting for people who couldn't fight for themselves. Goodbye to every dream she'd carried since she was eight years old, watching her drunk father get cheated out of his settlement money.
"Ms. Rose?" The court clerk's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. "Ms. Rose, you need to collect your materials."
Emily blinked. Her hands were shaking as she stuffed papers into her battered briefcase. The leather was cracked and held together with duct tape in three places. She'd been meaning to buy a new one for five years. Now she'd never need to.
"I'm so sorry, Maria." Emily turned to face her client. The forty-two-year-old woman clutched her baby to her chest. Six months old, the kid had never met his father. The construction accident had taken care of that.
"You tried." Maria's eyes were red but her voice was steady. "You're the only lawyer who would take our case."
"Fat lot of good it did you." Emily's throat felt raw. "Hudson Construction's team of lawyers just steamrolled us."
The opposing counsel was already packing up. Five lawyers in thousand-dollar suits, their briefcases probably worth more than Emily's car. The lead attorney, Richard Blackwood, caught her eye and smirked. He'd been destroying her in court for two hours straight.
"Better luck next time, Rose," he called out. "Oh wait. There won't be a next time."
His team laughed. Emily felt heat crawl up her neck. She wanted to say something sharp, something that would wipe that smug expression off his face. Instead, she just nodded and kept packing.
Outside the courthouse, October rain pelted down like bullets. Emily fumbled with her broken umbrella. Of course it chose today to completely give up on life. She was soaked before she made it ten steps.
"Emily Rose?"
She turned. A man in a expensive-looking coat stood under the courthouse awning. Mid-thirties maybe, with perfect hair that somehow wasn't affected by the rain. His eyes were an unusual shade of gold.
"Do I know you?"
"Not yet. But I know you." His voice had a slight accent she couldn't place. British? Maybe European? "Rough day in court."
"You could say that." Emily wiped rain from her face. "Who are you?"
"Someone who might be able to help."
"Unless you've got a time machine, I don't think so." Emily started walking toward the parking garage. Her heels clicked against the wet pavement. "Excuse me, I've got some career-ending paperwork to fill out."
The man fell into step beside her. His shoes were leather, polished to a mirror shine. They didn't seem to be getting wet.
"You care about them, don't you? Your clients."
Emily stopped walking. "What kind of question is that?"
"An important one. Most lawyers your age are chasing corporate contracts. Big firms, bigger paychecks. But you're here, fighting for single mothers and injured workers."
"And losing." Emily's voice cracked. "Don't forget the losing part."
"Ah, but what if you didn't have to lose anymore?"
Something in his tone made her look at him more carefully. He was handsome in a way that seemed almost artificial. Too perfect. Like someone had designed him in a lab.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I might have a business proposition for you."
Emily laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Mister, I've got exactly forty-seven dollars in my checking account and about six hours before my law license gets yanked. What kind of business could we possibly have?"
"The kind that guarantees you'll never lose another case."
A car honked somewhere behind them. Emily could smell hot dogs from a street vendor and the sharp scent of rain on concrete. Normal Friday afternoon smells. But something about this conversation felt completely surreal.
"That's impossible."
"Is it?" The man smiled, and for just a second, his teeth looked too sharp. "What if I told you I could make sure you win every single case you take? Every divorce, every custody battle, every wrongful death suit. One hundred percent success rate."
"I'd say you're either crazy or running some kind of scam."
"What if I could prove it?"
Emily stared at him. Rain dripped from her hair into her eyes. She was cold, wet, and about to lose everything she'd worked for. This had to be some kind of sick joke.
"How?"
"Give me twenty-four hours. Take one case, any case, and I'll show you what real victory looks like."
"Who are you?"
The man reached into his coat and pulled out a business card. It was black with gold lettering. Simple. Elegant. It read: "Lucifer Morningstar, Problem Solver."
Emily almost dropped it. "Lucifer? Seriously?"
"My parents had a sense of humor."
"Right." She looked at the card again. No phone number. No address. Just the name and title. "This is insane."
"So is losing everything because you're too proud to accept help."
That hit close to home. Emily's chest tightened. "What's the catch?"
"Smart girl. There's always a catch, isn't there?" Lucifer's smile widened. "But let's start with the benefits. Imagine walking into court tomorrow knowing you've already won. Imagine never having to watch another Maria Santos cry over a system that failed her."
"And the downside?"
"We'll discuss that when you're ready to hear it."
Emily's phone buzzed. A text from her landlord. "Rent was due yesterday. Pay by Monday or we start eviction proceedings."
She looked back at Lucifer. He was watching her with those strange gold eyes, like he could see right through her.
"You're asking me to trust a complete stranger whose name is literally Lucifer."
"I'm asking you to trust yourself. You know you're a good lawyer, Emily. You know you fight for the right people. What if you could actually win for them?"
Another text. This one from her mother's nursing home. "Payment for October is overdue. Please contact our billing department immediately."
Emily closed her eyes. When she opened them, Lucifer was still there, still watching her with that knowing look.
"One case," she said. "You get one case to prove whatever point you're trying to make."
"Deal." Lucifer extended his hand.
Emily hesitated. Something about this felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. One step forward and there would be no going back.
But what choice did she have?
She shook his hand.
His skin was warm. Too warm for a man who'd been standing in the rain. For just a moment, she could have sworn she felt electricity run up her arm.
"Excellent. I'll be in touch very soon." Lucifer turned to walk away.
"Wait." Emily called after him. "How did you know I lost today? How did you even know who I am?"
Lucifer paused. When he looked back, his smile was different. Predatory.
"I make it my business to know when exceptional people hit rock bottom, Emily. That's when they're most ready to make a deal."
He disappeared into the crowd of people hurrying through the rain. Emily stood there for a long moment, staring at the business card in her hand.
The gold lettering seemed to shimmer in the gray afternoon light.