“For what?”
“For being scared with me instead of for me.”
We sit like that for a moment. Just breathing. Just being.
“I wanted you to be wrong,” she admits, pulling back just enough to look at me. “I wanted you to eventually shake your head and say no, I’m crazy, I misheard, it was nothing.”
I can hear the emotion cracking through her voice. The fear she’s been carrying.
“But we found that ring and I knew. I just knew.” She sniffles, shaking her head. Tears drip off her chin. “It was obvious what it meant. And I didn’t know how to handle that because you being right meant that everything we knew was wrong.”
I stay quiet. Let her get it out.
“Dom was supposed to be—” Her voice breaks. “He was supposed to be one of the good ones. The lawyer who actually gave a shit. Who mentored you. Who was going to help you pass the bar and build your career and?—”
“I know.”
“Then the VIP lounge happened. And you came back and told me about the bartender and the warnings and I still—” She wipes her face with her sleeve. “I still hoped maybe you were wrong that this mystery guy was just that. Maybe Dom was watching television. Or listening to a podcast?—”
“And then today,” I finish for her.
“Today.” She looks toward the door that leads back into the office building. Back into the place where we work. Where Domis. Where Marcus will be coming back. “I didn’t want Dom to be a shit human.” Her voice is small. Broken. “But he is, isn’t he?”
“I think so.” And that fact hurts more than I expected.
“He remembers my Thai order,” I say quietly. “Asks about my fake dad every week. Gives me bonuses and mentors me and acts like he cares.”
“Maybe he does care.” Alex stares at nothing. “Maybe that’s what makes him dangerous. Men who are only monsters are easy to spot. It’s the ones who are kind to you while covering up murders—those are the ones who make you doubt yourself until it’s too late.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Both of us crying. Both of us grieving the man we thought Dom was. The career path I thought I was on. The simple world where defense attorneys were flawed but fundamentally decent.
Alex wipes her face one more time. “Okay. I can’t change what Dom is. But I can help you survive this.”
“How?” I ask weakly.
“What does working with Marcus actually mean?” she asks, turning to face me fully. Invested. Strategic. Switching into problem-solving mode because that’s how we survive. “Like day-to-day, what will you be doing?”
I think about Dom’s words. The assignment he handed me like a gift.
“Administrative law research. Document prep. Compliance filings for his new office.” I tick them off on my fingers. “I’ll be his primary point of contact for all legal matters. Dom said several times a week. Marcus mentioned evening work.”
Alex’s expression darkens. “Evening work. Alone.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s—” She stops herself. Takes a breath. “Okay. Okay, we can work with this.”
“How?” My voice comes out sharper than I intend. “How is any of this workable?”
“Because—” Alex grabs my hands. Forces me to look at her. “—you’ll have access to everything. His office documents. His financial disclosures?—”
“He’s a City Controller. Those are public?—”
“But you’ll have the originals. Chain of custody. His calendar. His communications. His meetings. The kind of proof that could actually survive a trial—if we live long enough to bring one.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way.
“You’ll be inside his operation,” she continues, talking faster now. That manic energy when she’s onto something. “Setting up his office means you see how he structures things. Who he meets with. How he handles money?—”
