Needless to say, I felt really good today. My hair was tied up into a midway ponytail, neatly brushed back, the curls brushing the beginning to the middle of my back. It was a style that exposed my face quite a bit, something I would typically avoid. But there was a peculiar energy in the air that surrounded me, the air that I breathed in. It filled my spirit with an insight I didn't have before. The fitted appearance of my grey dress pants and the black, sleeveless turtleneck against my body accentuated the curves in my physique, but it underscored a newfound sensuality, sensitivity, and awareness. After the party last night, the conversation I had with Harry was...eye opening. What was a sincere warning to stay away from the case turned into another forceful, assertive establishment of his power, his authority. I knew that this wasn't all about Harry, but he admitted there was something in it for him. The success of this case was beneficial not only to the men like Ernest, but to those like Harr. And who knows, maybe they're the same man.

Projecting any kind of repressed emotions I might have on this case, and the discovery of what I'm calling 'the truth', was not an initial problem I anticipated. Frankly, the idea of rushing into the exigency of this case and the presented risks brushed past me like the tactility of the danger was only a figment of my imagination, and that it didn't materially exist, and therefore, it wasn't real. I found myself disregarding the presence of that threat to my life. Harry's concerns were so dilapidated, spoiled, and saturated by his inability to express a single raw, sincere emotion that there was no rush to run away. No rush to give up, and quit, out of pity for my lack of skills, or because the man I crave shakes the ladder beneath my feet.

I couldn't be threatened by Harry's convincing act that he was interested in keeping me 'safe'. Mainly, I believe he just wanted me far from this case because I ran the risk of exposing the entire situation. Any sane person would walk away by now after hearing what Harry was so firmly explaining. Surely, all those nights and those weekends I spent with Harry would be evidence of how much he would never hurt me, how his intentions were always stated like they were. But, I had a gut feeling that I was being blinded by my own subconsciousness. She was nebulous, tricky, and deceitful. She never tells me what she wants, what she needs, what she truly desires. I am my subconscious, but I don't communicate with her. We experience a lot of miscommunication, and in that presence of such poor socializing skills, me and her just never got along. But she was pressing me, causing a few turns in my stomach and goosebumps on my skin every time she noticed something was wrong, or something she really liked. She was finally reaching out to me, and she was expressive, manifested in the form of my intuition. She told me that I needed to have Harry, my nude body pressed up against him as he's drilling me into his bed. But she also gave me a heads up that the fun in the lust and sex was...only short-term satisfaction, and it would bleed me dry in such a short time.

As I walk around the messy desks, half of the lamps turned off, others left on by mistake, I glance around the large office space. The setting sky and the stars that dotted it with lights were visible through the large glass wall that faced the city. It was a magnificent view, and I understand the appeal of the minimalist aesthetic. My quietness was usual of me, so no one asked about me, or possibly even knew of me. I kept to myself, and this was something that didn't change overnight. My focus on organizing my notes and my information was my priority for the day.

Throughout it, I'd see Akira leave the building every now and then. Journalists circled in and out, in a rush or in a devastated, frustrated slow stroll. I didn't pay much attention to them. Somewhere, at some point, I saw Logan, who looked at me and looked away, his light eyes blinking rapidly as his neutral face gave a sensation of discomfort. Ever since the party, he has lost interest in speaking with me. I'm certain that he got the idea that there was something between me and Harry, which I supposed signalled that I was only a potential sexual partner for Logan, and his interest in interacting with me was purely because in his eyes, I was reduced to a romantic interest, not worth any friendly interests at all. That or he was petrified by Harry's taunting, provoking gaze; I wouldn't blame him.

I used the trackpad on my laptop to scroll past a few PDF files I recently scanned into the device. They were all annotated with my handwriting, notes written in the margins with blue or sometimes green, or red pen. I was meticulous about the way I took my notes, and the beauty of permanent memorization was in the details. Password protected files were neatly organized into the device as well. Chewing on a chocolate bar from the vending machine, I set another password for this file that was only a few numbers off from the many ones before it. I didn't use a password twice. My nails, a dark purple color, their length tapping against the keyboard occasionally, glisten in the light from the laptop screen. My desk lamp was turned off, and I didn't have the urge to turn it on. The light was dim and comfortable enough for the night, and it originated elsewhere from everyone else's desks.

My eyebrows lower as I gaze at a document I was looking at, knowing that a lot of these public records coming from the FDA's own website. I planned to make my own calls to request more information than they were disclosing in their recent online list of approvals, and their decisions on them. I saw that their lines for requests were always open, and I set on calling them to request more information about two different recent entries they've made. I made these predictions based on the date from where I started my internship, to when Harry and Mr. Yung's involvement in the high profile case was evident. These were estimations of the timeline that I was slowly creating. This must have started at the very end of the winter, and the initial blooming of the spring. I saw that the issuing office fell under the Division of Pharmaceutical Quality Operations I, which I annotated as DoP I. There were three different entries from that time to now that involved this particular office, and involved a product with the abbreviations FP. I assumed that was short for Friedman Pharmaceuticals. It was interesting to see how they never clarify the name of the actual company, only the title of the product that also gave nothing away: "White & Lloyd 03 Medicals". There was nothing particularly interesting about this except the FP, and if someone wasn't looking for Friedman Pharma, then they definitely weren't going to find this.

"Hi," I say politely into my cell phone, holding it up to my ear with my shoulder. "I'm calling because I need to request more information about an archived file with the name...White and Lloyd 0-3 Medical," I explained steadily, scrolling past my notes to start typing out anything the man at the other end could say of any interest.

The friendly, light-hearted voice belonging to the man I was speaking with eagerly says, "Sure, sure. We have a couple of policies, but I don't think it'll be a problem if we're talking about warning letters. May I ask why you are requesting these files?"

Flawlessly, I respond, "I'm a graduate student doing some anthropological research, and it's relevant information I think will be useful."

"Okay, thank you," he responds after I provide the useless information. "Just give me one moment, ma'm. I have to locate the archived file. These old computers are a lil' slow."

"Sure, take your time," I gratefully dismissed. Taking another bite of my chocolate treat, I looked up to see Logan, his desk several ones away from mine. He was pushing his chair into his desk, his laptop bag strapped from his shoulder. Grabbing his empty coffee mug, he turns away and begins to maneuver his way towards the exit. As he's turning, he looks over at me and we make accidental eye contact. My eyes move quickly and I avoided his gaze, and through my peripheral, I see him brush it off and proceed to leave for the night.

Widening my eyes as the awkwardness, I silently sigh and shake my head. If I take into account what happened at the party, I didn't do anything wrong to him to be treated this way. He was simply upset that I had some association to Harry, which he correctly assumed was not platonic by the usage of the word 'baby' as it was meant to refer to me. Every time it slipped past his mouth, I could see Logan visibly grow uncomfortable.

"Hello, ma'm? Are you there?"

Blinking rapidly and sitting up, I quickly replied, "Oh, yes. I am."

"So, it looks like these files are seized for a federal investigation," the man explains briefly.

I frown and slowly asked, "Are there any details left public?"

"Hmm, no. I can't even access the file, it's been encrypted, so no one who is unauthorized can have access to it."

Humming softly, I type a few notes into my document, keeping track of what he's shared so far. "That's...weird," I mutter, pausing my typing to question, "You guys don't usually hear about these investigations? You can't search for other encrypted files?"

"No, not really. It's rare we even come across them. Whatever it is, don't think the media cares all that much. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Eyes wandering the gradually emptying office space, I part my lips and pause, thinking. "Hmm, is there any other related entries involving the names White and Lloyd?"

"I can certainly look."

Grateful, I sit back and grab my phone with my hand, untucking it from between my cheek and shoulder. It didn't take a genius to figure out what I did. I just knew it existed. Others wouldn't even think to search for it. As I sit and patiently wait for the man to provide an answer, I lean my head back a bit, staring up at the ceiling. I remained quiet in those moments, watching the large ceiling have as it spun through the air, the wooden boards cutting through the wind.

"Well, it looks like there aren't any other entries with those names in any relevance."

Biting my lip momentarily, I then sighed, "Okay. Thank you, anyway."

"You could try googling it?"

"Yeah," I murmured in a breath. My initial thoughts were correct. There was a federal investigation going into Friedman Pharmaceuticals and there wasn't a way to directly filter only for encrypted files under federal investigations. "Can you try looking entries up by company name? Friedman Pharmaceuticals or abbreviated, FP," I suggest firmly, feeling like I can get around all the inconveniences.

He agrees and then hums as he searches, the noise of his typing loud enough, haste. I sit up straight again, leveling my head and looking back to the screen of my laptop. Typing a few notes to myself, I hear him finally say, "So it looks like Friedman Pharmaceuticals or...FP, has quite a few entries this past year. Another one...actually, is under federal investigation."

"Can I get the name of that?" I ask readily.

"This is linked to White and Lloyd 03 Medicals. Has no particular name attached, it's just a corresponding file," he explains easefully. "This is as deep as current public records go."

"Alright, thank you. That's all I need."

"Okay, hope this was helpful for your project. If anything, once the investigation is done...the information becomes public."

Satisfied with his help, I bid him goodbye and set my phone down. It was imperative that I figure out the timeline here, as it would put a lot of different things into perspective. More awake than I was before, I search for a piece of notebook paper and a pen. I make a list of the things I know and things I need to know:

As of right now, I don't truly know whether this will be tried in a criminal or civil court. The only way to find out is to look through arrest records. It is crucial that I figure out who the opposing party is in this case. There were a lot of moving pieces, like Harry said. It was true. I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of this case, and already, there was a web of information beginning to weave itself. A lot of data was unavailable, and the missing links between each person involved were purposefully there, so it was not like they were there by chance. Consequently, that makes it very difficult to unweave this web; because there were people that would kill to keep it that way.

There was also the one solid fact; this was a federal investigation. It could fall under countless criminal violations, or civil rights, public corruption, white-collar, etc. At least I knew that is was real. Harry and Mr. Yung were two of the lawyers involved in defending and/or representing their client, David Friedman. Cristian Ernest is a third-party interest, a personal advisor for David, and a possible 'accessory' if this was a criminal case. Ernest was interested in the success of this case because it was beneficial to his real client, the one that clearly has something to lose if this case were to lose. This figure was actually unknown, a complete ghost in the increasingly tense chaos. Ernest's client was unknown to me, and I think I have to be very careful with that particular piece. He already doesn't appreciate my digging, and so if I were to make it obvious that I was coming anywhere near his client, I don't think he'll be as gracious and respectful as he was last time. However, I suspect that Ernest's client is one that would put the actual essence of this case into perspective. The answer on what the investigation was on had to be relevant to the people who were truly invested in seeing its success. Whatever endeavors, businesses, and capital these people dealt with or were involved in was directly, or more intricately, indirectly, related to the content of the case.

Thus, this left me a few things. The identity of Ernest's client is something I needed to find next. I also needed to know more about the people who were deeply involved in the case. I already knew that David Friedman was a pharmaceuticals man. That meant, I needed more information on Harry, Mr. Yung, Ernest, and...even Akira. Her investment in seeing it get exposed was particularly interesting. I know she constantly claimed she was ruthless with the truth, but the money she paid me for simply visiting David for some information was...unnerving. It seemed that the exposure of the investigation only held monetary benefits for her, but I didn't believe that. She knew, somehow, that David Friedman was at the center of this case. She already knew it existed before she sent me off to meet with David.

And it was true what Harry said. Everyone here aims and doesn't miss. They'll shoot bambi or the lioness the same way, with the same urgency and threat levels. They were not deceived by the disguises everyone in the room wore. I thought...maybe I should take that advice and run with it.

The night closes in on me while at the office. Everyone was almost gone. A janitor walked down the foyer, the wheels on his cart echoing in the quiet, dimly lit office space. The night lights from outside illuminated the space inadequately, so I kept my lamp on. I bite the inside of my cheek as I scroll past my notes from my phone call, making sure to color code problems, solutions, and their relationships to each other. All this organizing was therapeutic for me. I didn't mind the strolling janitor, the dim lights, and the absence of people. It was silent enough for me to focus, and while I plotted to do something quite insane, my eyes wandered to the ceilings, gazing at the corners for any kind of surveillance technology, or more simply...cameras.

I stood up slowly, pushing my chair back and moving away from my desk. I stood for a hesitant moment, pausing to think about my calculated and deliberate actions. This was not going to be something I could turn away from once done, if I were to get caught. With a heavy breath, I hoped I wouldn't.

Bracing myself, I head straight towards Akira's office. I walk briskly, but not like I didn't belong there. It was slow enough to pass for someone who wasn't lost, but comfortable. While there was barely anyone to watch me, I needed to be aware that if I was comfortable, then I was making an error. Biting the inside of my cheek, I feverishly approach the glass doors of her empty office. The glass encasement of the spacious room made it obvious she wasn't there, the darkness another indicator of her absence. I bite my bottom lip harshly, shutting my eyes and breathing in deeply. This was a very, very tricky situation, and I repeated to myself that I needed to be smart. I couldn't allow for a single measure to be unaccounted for.

I glanced up and down the hallways. Everywhere I looked, the walls, the corners, the edges of the floors where the glass met the stone floors...no cameras, nothing that seemed it was out of place. Nothing that would give me away too easily. Then again, I had to prepare for Akira to know of my trespassing at any moment regardless whether I saw cameras or not. When I tried for the doorknob, it was surprisingly unlocked. Right then and there, I took a step back, hearing the lock that wasn't in use click against the metal doorway, leaving the door cracked open. It didn't have a lock...

This was not looking to promising already. If she left her office unlocked, clearly she wouldn't think to hide anything of value in it. It would make it too easy for anyone to steal any information she had. I lower my eyebrows and hold my hand to the doorknob again. My body takes me inside, too eager to move without my permission. The lights in the office automatically detect movement, and the office brightens instantly. Startled slightly, I gasp and look behind me to the door, which remained cracked open. I wondered why her door was unlocked, but when I looked to the metal, square trash can by her desk, I see it was recently emptied and the bag was replaced. The office isn't unlocked. It just happened that the janitor accidentally left it open...lucky me.

Knowing this now, I quickly move to her laptop. I take a seat in her white leather chair, careful not to print my own fingers onto the clean, pristine glass. Not a single thing could be out of place, or I ran the risk of making my visit, or at least someone's past presence, known. Carefully, I press the power button on her iMac keyboard. The screen lights up to reveal a login screen. My fingers linger above the keyboard, brushing against the keys before I shake my head and move away. I wasn't dumb enough to log into her accounts, her computer, when any second she could get an alert that someone had logged into them. Even if I knew the password, that would be a stupid move. But there were no drawers in her office, so I knew she didn't keep too much on paper.

"C'mon," I whispered to myself, dropping my hands to my lap in unaccepted defeat. "There has to be something."

Then suddenly my head turns to look at the modern wireless office phone that had a screen to it, displaying the time of night: 2:31AM. She must get her business calls on it, because it was strange to see such a phone when many things were kept to various cell phones. When I pressed onto the corresponding screen beside the located phone with my finger, the screen switched from the time lock screen to a menu of multiple things. Bringing the chair closer to her desk, my arms held above the glass of her desk just in case I were to break anything, I gaze down the menu until I hit the voicemails/messages options. A red icon displayed the number 4 beside it, indicating that was the number of new, unheard voicemails and messages she had been left.

Impulsively, I click on it and see a long, long history of messages. I couldn't view the new ones. She hadn't even read those herself, and I'm sure she kept track of them. Randomly, I scrolled and picked on one to listen to.

"Hi..Akira. Your daughter is having a boy crisis again. I'm forced to call your office phone because...well, you're always there anyway. Come home and control your child!" A woman's voice says, her tone playful but also holding a sincerity to it. It sounded defeated almost.

I scroll to more recent ones, and click the one right before the four new ones.

A voice I do not recognize says, "Akira Haruno. You're a hard woman to reach, you know. I know you told me not to call this number, but it's urgent. Call me back asap!"

Sighing to myself, I scroll further up, and damnly, my finger slips and I click on the oldest of the new voicemails. My eyes widen and air gets sucked out of my lungs by the force and intensity of my shock. "Fuck," I grumble to myself, my face contorting into a distressed frown.

The same voice from the previous email says, "Okay, Akira. I did what you asked. You're never going to believe who's involved with the Friedman case -- well, you will believe it. You already suspected it. Leo Yung and Harry Styles... the two most fucking ruthless lawyers on this side of Washington. I mean, I know you mentored Styles until he got super good at his job...but...I didn't expect him to be involved with this. Leo Yung really took Harry under his wing, I guess. Anyways, I'll keep updating you the more I learn. And...that girl you have investigating David, don't...don't tell her about this yet. I think I saw her at your party leaving a room with Harry. And they were both really publicly social. You know what's going on with that? We'll talk eventually."

My mouth agape, I paused in astonishment before impulsively, and feverishly clicking on the second oldest message, the one right after, left by the same man.

"Akira, I gotta say...thanks for selling me this story. This is in-fucking-sane. Some twisted shit this is. I did some of my own digging. Call me back so we can discuss this stuff, Haruno! I'm counting on you for the facts. It looks like Harry's tied up with some bad people. Ernest is definitely going to turn on him big time when he sees why Harry is even involved. Man...who knew he was just as good at real-estate as he is with saving criminals from consequences! - shit I have to go. See you, Haruno."

Eagerly, I click on the second.

"Hey, just a reminder, you should kick off that little girl you got investigating this case. Tell her it's a dead end and you're not looking into it. Get someone else. Shit, I'll do it. She's clearly got some relationship with him, and I feel like you knew that. I wonder why you even wanted her to investigate this? What's your plan, Haruno? I know you. You're too sly. Alright, well, see you soon."

Clenching my jaw with apprehension and anxiety, but also a decent level of anger, I press my lips together and hesitate before listening to the last one, the most recent one that was left at 12:09AM.

"After our talk...I feel a little better about this. It was such a good idea to put her in the middle. This complicates things for Styles, but makes it easier for us to tear up this case piece by piece, put it out there. Playing them like a true chess player. I mean...it's genius really. You antagonize someone he won't hurt despite the risks, and you cause more tension. More tension...the easier it is to get information. And the whole thing about her turning on him because she's too good of a person? Shit, Haruno, you are ruthless with the truth and a psychic. Alright..I'll stop calling your office phone. It's just I never write down your cell and I keep deleting my recent call logs before saving it. Just call me so we can chat over video this Friday. Bye."

My initial reaction is freeze completely. Bone to bone, muscle to muscle, and mind to mind. I couldn't believe this. Akira was the lioness, an openly unabashed one. She wore her fur arrogantly, confidently, to the point that it slipped beneath anyone's perception. She was clearly good at charming her way, and she did it to me. She charmed me. Complimented me, advised me, gave me support when people like Harry were not too sweet with the truth. I stare at the phone, the screen with the messages display no notifications. I figured that she already knew everything he said, as the most recent voicemails imply that he already spoke to her directly, and they were only reminders or supplements to their actual conversations.

I bite down and make a decision in that moment that I knew I was not going to like. Not caring that the voicemails were now marked as read, I simply delete them from her log of messages. Standing to my feet, I leaned over to see if my fingers had left any oils or prints on her screen. Finding the surface of the screen suitably clean, I quickly make my way out of her office, my walk even faster, my hand feverishly locking her office, and hoping the lights turn off in the next few minutes or so with no indicators of movement in the room.

At my desk, I snatch my phone right up and make a simple phone call that really wasn't simple at all.

"I'm sure you know what time it is?" I hear his heavenly low, smooth voice scold me.

Agitated and now vigilant, wary, and hyperactive, I quickly responded, "I need to see you. Like right now."

Harry is silent on the other end for only a short second. "Hm," he huffs lowly, and I can tell he's rubbing at his face, probably exhausted from his late night at the office. This was typical of him, so I knew that's where he was. "Why? What happened? You sound...eager." He finally asks, not too keen on having this conversation with me.

Ignoring his flat, disinterested tone, I remarked, "It's really important. It's about the case and Akira."

"Interesting...well...I hope it's not what I think it is," he says almost ironically, his tone sarcastic and slow, unfazed by my vague summaries. I hear him sigh and he adds, "You know I'm at my office right now, Athena. It's late, and you're not taking the metro. Axel happened to be around, so he'll be outside in a few minutes."

Raising an eyebrow, I hesitate to scold him for obviously having Axel watching me yet again. But I couldn't expect Harry to listen to me on that matter. He already had been convinced he needed to do it, and I wasn't fighting him enough on it, truly. Axel's presence felt like maybe I wasn't entirely unprotected and a free target for everyone involved. Even then, though, people like Akira manage to entrap me with their perceived kindness.

"Okay," I muttered. "Your office in ten. And no, I don't think you know what this is about."

I hang up without giving him the chance to answer me. Packing my things, I quickly shut off my desk lamp and place my laptop into my bag. Strapping it across my shoulder, hanging beside me, I grab my phone in my hand and hastily walked towards the foyer, and the main entrance. Outside, Axel pulled up just as I reached the curb,the car unlocking as he allowed me inside. Once I shut the door and strap on my seatbelt, Axel says nothing in response to my brief greeting. I don't think too much about his silence, aware he wasn't much of a talker.

Once I arrived in front of the firm, I left the car in a hurry, almost forgetting to shut the door behind me. The firm's doors were unlocked, and I walked through, past the foyer, the lounging area and the front desk. In the elevator, my leg shook as I thought about telling Harry this information, seeing him in his office. The one place that I didn't think I'd return to anymore, considering the state of Harry and I's professional relationship and that I wasn't planning on returning to a place I felt so small in. But as I strolled through the hallways to Harry's office, this time, I was far from small. I was covering a lot of ground, brazenly and unforgivingly.

When I abruptly pushed the door open to Harry's office, I found him writing into his leather itinerary, probably scheduling yet another meeting with a client. His hair was messy, his facial hair unshaved, his tired, low eyes not surprised to see me at all when he glances up through his lashes. The windows were sealed shut, not a single sound audible except for my own slightly quickened breathing and the central air conditioning system as it moved a nice, soothing coolness throughout the room. He stops writing when our eyes lock. I shut the door behind me and set my bag down on the black sofa in the lounging space in his office, approaching his desk then.

I take my seat from across his desk, sitting up at the edge of it. We look at each other, and I see it, it was different. While he still had that same intimidating gaze, my response, my reaction to it...was fundamentally different. Steadily, I begin, "Akira knows. She suspected that you're involved with the case, and she had someone else...the guy she sold the information to..look into it. Because she knew that the simple fact you and I were fucking would effectively make me biased, which might be the reason I'm here."

Harry sets his pen down and says nothing, eyebrows raising as he takes in my statements. He leans back into his chair, pushing his seat back from the desk a few inches. Breathing in audibly, he hums huskily and shrugs his shoulder, his face remaining completely neutral of all expressions. I'm instantly agitated with his calm response. Wanting a reaction, I snappingly added, "She knew that if she was right, putting me in the middle of it would make it hard for you."

He lowers his eyebrows slightly showing some interest in what I was saying. But with intention to provoke me, press me, and his tone sounding condescending, he lowly questions, "Hard for me? What would be hard for me if she put made you a credible threat to the case?"

Lowering my eyes, I roughly mutter, "I don't need that condescending bullshit right now."

Nodding his head, he looks down at his desk and reaches to rub against his jaw, tilting his head only slightly. He makes a hissing sound between his teeth, and then frowns as he responds slowly to my harshness. When he finally looked up at me, he's blank again, and doesn't seem to be impressed with anything I told him. "I don't remember you ever being this cold," he comments casually.

Staring at him, unmovingly, I sigh and stand to my feet, already wanting to leave the space as long he was in it, too. Sharing the air with him was already dangerous. A room? Couldn't be worse. He looks up at me with narrowed eyes, obviously irritated with me. "Honestly, Harry, it's like eating broken glass to sit here and tell you that you were potentially right. You can't take it without being an arrogant ass," I insulted him openly, feeling my heartbeat begin to increase in pace, but I don't falter this time.

"You know what your problem is, Athena? You don't fucking listen," he states seriously, his tone aggravated as he grows increasingly angry at me.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I spat, "What, I was supposed to trust you with all your secrets? All your armed bodyguards and your passcode protected building? Also, the fact that you're representing a very powerful man? That Ernest practically kidnapped me for a few minutes just to harass me...that he let me bleeding from my head? Akira used me as a fucking pawn, and honestly, if I would've let you, so were you."

"Wait a bloody minute, Athena," he gratingly snapped, raising his voice slightly and standing to his feet, his chair rolling across the polished, wooden floorboards. I'm turned away from him, grabbing my bag from the lounging space. I turn back around to see him walking around his desk. He stands by it and with pure vexation in his eyes and in every detail of his expression, he asserts, "Don't start with me on this. A pawn? Why the fucking hell would I use you? I was trying to get you off the damn thing. You wouldn't have even been a pawn for Akira if you would have just stayed out of it."

I bite my tongue and glower at him unwaveringly. He then mutters, "But like always...you don't listen to me."

"I listened to you when you said I should give Akira a chance," I testify.

He huffs bitterly. "I was indifferent, at best. I didn't know she was aware of the case itself. But she knew something, sure enough, more than I expected. Akira suspected me from the very beginning. That's why when I told her about the news article, she looked at me funny. Going to tell her that I'm worried about you wasn't so I could play the protective boyfriend card, as you put it. It was so I could see if she knew I was involved," he reveals flatly. I'm curious and a little stunned by his elaboration.

Pausing, I part my lips to say something, but I close them back up. "Why couldn't you just tell me this?" I questioned bluntly.

"Because when I tell you anything, Athena, you don't take it very well." He asks bitingly, squinting his pale eyes at me. Unable to respond, I just stand there and grab the strap of my bad tightly, squeezing it in my fist. "Am I wrong?" He presses, taking a few slow strides towards me. I glance down at his feet and then back up at his face.

"I don't trust you still, Harry. I now most definitely don't trust Akira, but for now, I'll just have to pretend I do because she's betting on that. This case hasn't ended. You're still on David Friedman's team of lawyers. I don't care that your old mentor is willing to sabotage you for the truth, she's doing her job as you're doing yours," I claim effortlessly, content with the firmness and determination in my voice.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, examining my face carefully before he lowly mutters, "I'm not surprised this is what you had to tell me. Her whole plan was to turn you against me because she saw right through you and your good moral compass. She's effective at doing that. How do you think I became such a good lawyer at twenty-nine? Akira's got skills that weren't learned. She was born that way. It's innate, and just look how effective it is."

Shaking my head, I sighed and more calmly responded, "Don't paint her as the only bad guy. I still don't know what you have to gain from this case, or what the case facts are. I don't know you Harry, so don't play my knight in shining armor here."

"Your knight --?" He stops himself, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. "I'm no knight, I'd call it simply saving your arse."

I squint at him, refraining from rolling my eyes. "Why do you try then? To save my arse," I mock momentarily, staring at him seriously. "You're sabotaging yourself by trying to save me, you know. I'm learning information about the case left and right, digging...I'm doing everything that you and your colleagues want to avoid. But you..."

"But I do it anyway?" He finishes for me quietly, his eyes watching me carefully, his expression of anger now faded as he relaxes. He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm giving you a chance to quit now while you're ahead."

Bravely, I instantly blurted, "So it's not because you care about me? Because you secretly want me to be close, but far away at the same time?"

He doesn't say anything. Complete silence from him as he reaches up into his hair and runs his hands through it with a breath at his pink, heart-shaped lips. He sets his jaw and turns his head, staring off at the wall for a few seconds, averting his sight. I watch him expectantly. Finally, he looks back at me and walks over. At a distance of several inches, he reaches for my bag and lifts it from my shoulder, sliding it past my arm and placing it back on the sofa. I stare at him, growing increasingly nervous and eager at the same time. He doesn't touch me or make another move, and simply looks down at me.

"Don't mistaken me for someone caring. I'm not. Don't do that psychoanalyzing thing you do all the time. Don't do it on me, because you're going to find yourself exactly where you are now," he says softly, his eyes boring into my own. "I don't need a reason."

"Everything has a reason," I respond back, barely above a whisper as I manage to maintain the intense eye contact. In private triumph, I stare and wait.

"Does it? Did I take your mom's divorce case for a reason? Did I meet you for a reason? Are we going through this back and forth for a reason?" He interrogates calmly, lowering his brow. "Can we skip the arguing?" He utters boldy. "And just fast forward."

"To where?" I asked curiously. Could there be a point in the future where we agree on matters concerning this case? I didn't think so, but as he watches me, I remain steady, battling my deepest urges to fall back into his nebulous existence. He stood before me, and I could see him, but not really him. I didn't know the truth about him, or what his past says, what his present is saying, and impossibly, what his future will say. I just knew we were two people that right now, were being pulled in two different directions. What I thought was right was different from what he thought.

His hand reaches up to his face, and his thumb brushes the tip of his nose as he exhales loudly. His tongue pokes out from between his lips, offering moisture for his lips as he prolongs the wait for his answer. Then he lowly murmurs, "To the part we're both thinking about right now."

I inhale sharply, but am careful to exhale the sudden breath gently. Sensing his enclosing distance, the tilt of his head as he leans a little lower, I reach my hands up to stop him, pressing my palms against his chest, over the navy short sleeve he was wearing, complimenting his style and his fingers that were adorned in his usual ensemble of rings. "We can't do that," I argue seriously, feeling my stomach turn, my body contradicting my words. The scent of his familiar cologne, the radiating heat from his beneath his shirt against my palms...I forced myself to whisper, "I can't. We're on two different sides of this situation."

He looks down at me, his eyes wandering my face, examining. "You want my reason?" He asks suddenly, and when I don't say anything, he whispers, "I found my answer to the question you struggle with. The identity crisis. The loss of control. I found the thing that soothes all of those things. This case...is complex, but I have both indirect monetary and personal investments in it. I don't intend to cause harm, to deliberately destroy anyone. But, when people come to me, I get them want they want, what they need."

A moment of silence passes and we're both just staring. His investments should've made him a conflict of interest, but his usage of the word indirectly signifies that his link to the case wasn't so direct. Hesitantly, I demanded, "Tell me this doesn't involve people dying. Just tell me that."

"I hope it doesn't," he answers sincerely. However, I'm not satisfied with his simplistic, dryly delivered response. "But I don't know everything. David trusts Ernest more than he trusts Yung and me. There are so many angles to this case, that I'm constantly watching my back."

I shake my head. "You have investments in the success of the case. Aside from the money they're paying you...you still have something gain? Does it deal with your interest in the real-estate industry?" I throw the information I got from Akira's voicemail messages at him, knowing it was a curveball.

And by the way his eyebrows raise and he leans back away from me, I know it startled him. He struck out.

"How did --?"

"I snuck into Akira's office tonight. I listened to her voicemails. The man she told the story to, said you were involved with some questionable people...and that you're pretty good at real-estate just as you are with the law," I confess to him assertively, not wavering to adhere to his surprise and his reaction. When he doesn't say anything, I persisted anyway. "What is it that you do, Harry? That connects your real-estate business to your client's success in the pharmaceutical industry?" The more I spoke the more I began to piece it together.

"Athena --"

"I'm not stupid, Harry," I remark haughtily, taking a step back from him. My chest rises as I take in a deep breath. "You're not going to lie, are you?"

He sighs frustratingly and runs a hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he drops his hand lazily at his side, staring at me with a stern look.

"No, I'm not," he replies flatly.

"So?" I laugh breathlessly, lowering my head to beckon him to proceed. With realization at his silence, I pursed my lips and fall serious once again, slowly concluding, "But...you're not going to tell me either."

"No, I'm not," he repeats. I roll my eyes and reach over the sofa to grab my bag. Watching me do this, he stands there and I can see through my peripheral that he has yet to even move. Placing the strap on my shoulder, I glance up at him again, seeing him his usual calm self. This time he doesn't let me leave without adding, "Ernest called me about Akira today. He knows about her, and your connection to her. He knows that I will retaliate if he goes after you again, worse than I did before. The thing about me, Athena," he mutters casually, and I'm turning back around just as quickly as I had turned away, "is that I am not Ernest. I'm not Yung. I'm not Akira. I'm extremely overqualified by comparison. I don't send people to get kidnapped, murdered, or whatever bloody awful thing you think I do. Let's just say, I play fairly, and that's why people are confused. Ernest, however, he will get someone to end not only Akira's career. So...be sure to mention that to her if she shows up to work."

Silent, I only stare at him, stunned by his revelation. He seemed so calm, knowing that Akira could be in danger. Eyebrows lowering, I muttered, "You...you know she's in danger and you just...haven't told her. That seems awful to me."

"She wouldn't tell me if I was days away from getting killed. Trust me. Those years spent mentoring me and grooming me were for her personal gain. I mean absolutely nothing to her. She's secretly furious with Yung for leading me away from her. And I know Ernest won't do anything drastic just yet. Just like he did with you, he will scare her a little bit. But she's not very easy to scare. Akira didn't care if Ernest would've shot you right between your eyes as long as she was getting information she could make a lot of money from," he explains, and I'm surprised he's talking this much about this topic when he usually would rather say nothing at all. "She's paid you, no? And you think it's a large amount? Compared to hers, she hired you for a steal."

"I don't care about the money," I reply hastily.

"I know that. Akira is so...seemingly dedicated to the truth," he huffs, nearly rolling his eyes. "She put you right in the middle, knowing that you are someone I cannot pass any boundaries with. She knows I can't let Ernest do anything to you."

"Don't," I warn him bluntly.

"Don't want? Tell you the truth? I don't need to share my business endeavors with you. I said I can't cross any boundaries when it comes to you, and my privacy about what I do...is me not crossing them."

"So that means it's bad," I conclude quietly.

He shrugs. "That means...I'm picking my battles."

Falling quiet, I just shake my head. My hands run over my cheeks, up to my temples where I massage them. My eyes close momentarily, and when I opened them he's still standing where he had been the past few minutes. I stare at him warily, with more uncertainty than when I first came in. Shrugging my shoulders, I reluctantly breathed out, "I don't know what to think. If you're picking your battles, then you must've picked the one where you pick your investments over me. Because you can't have both."

He doesn't say anything, even as I add, "And you know...apparently, Ernest doesn't know you too well either. Because whatever it is you do, when he finds out, it's going to make him come after you."

Harry must've known that, the way he simply nods. He shoves his hands into the pocket of his white pants. I stare at him, the gears in my head turning and turning. I'm thinking so hard, I'm certain an impending headache is starting to finally arrive. Tilting my head, my eyes squint at him, my mouth parting.

"Oh my god," I whispered, and he just squints at me as I'm displaying focus, confusion, contemplation, realization, and disbelief...all in that order. "You don't want this case to 'win'. You're delaying your gratification. You know that this case isn't as useful as everyone else is making it out to be because in the long run, it'll turn into a problem for them that becomes beneficial for you. Somehow, you know that even...even if I do expose it, if it gets out there to the public, it won't matter. The case is going to end, and either you've managed to sabotage it by protecting me or you let it ruin everyone else with time --"

I nearly scream when he takes quick strides forward, approach me. His hand comes up to my mouth, and he brings up his free hand to signal me to stop. Eyes wide, he shakes his head at me and I'm petrified, fully running on adrenaline. My heart surged up to my throat, and silenced my voice in addition to his hand that firmly covers my mouth. He looks up at the ceiling, and I wonder what he's looking at, standing extremely still. When he removes his hand from my mouth, I go to speak, but he immediately whispers, "Shh." He grabs my arms and turns my frozen body around, my back against his chest. Usually the feeling of him close would make me cave into my primal desires, but right now I was just completely taken aback.

He raises his arm beside my head and points up to a painting. In my ear, he quietly explains himself, his breath fanning against my skin, causing me to shudder. "You see that painting. It was done by my mother. As you'll learn, I've got a very good memory, so...I know that is not my mother's painting."

"What are you talking about?" I replied back softly, growing extremely confused.

Harry moves away from me, and he goes to reach for the painting. Quite aggressively, he tears it off the nail it hung on, and turns it around. The back of it shakes me to my core. Screwed into the frame was a small little black box, and I can only assume that someone had bugged his office. He stares down at the small microphone and then looks up back at me. I stare at him with wide, shocked eyes, and we're both in complete silence before he abruptly and furiously throws the painting onto the floor, making a large clattering noise. Startled, I step back as the bottom of his foot comes to slam against the painting, crushing the box and effectively destroying what appeared to be some surveillance device. My arms come to wrap around myself protectively when he quickly moves towards his desk. Crouching down, he feels for the bottom of it for any other boxes alike to that one. He snags onto something that snaps loudly, and he stands up only to toss it against the wall in an obvious temperamental rage. It was another one.

I'm brought to horror as I watch him fiercely and wildly go to tear off every single thing that hung on his wall. Pulling out the cushions from the sofa and living seats, turning over the chairs, and the coffee table. Even the rug. In the duration of his rage, all I heard was glass shattering, things being slammed, his heavy breath. The sight of him in rage was so threatening because he was quiet. The only thing that really stood out was the vein that popped into his neck, or his flaring nostrils. Other than that, he made no other noise. His brown hair fell over his forehead when he looked back up and reached for his phone into his pocket. He walks across broken glass, hearing it crinkle and crack beneath his footsteps. Dialing quickly, he holds the phone to his ear, within seconds getting an answer.

Remarkably calm, he mutters, "Tear apart all my locations. They might be bugged. Call me back in forty minutes with answers. And afterwards, you and everyone else are fucking fired."

He hangs up and tosses his phone onto his desk, angrily wiping at his nose and rubbing at his jaw. I gaze around the completely destroyed office. It looks like Ernest already had his suspicions. He runs a hand through his hair in distress. When he finally looks at me, he sees my stoic expression. I hadn't moved an inch since my initial surprise. Because I finally knew what was going on, and how to use it to my advantage.

"Do you still want to work the case?" I ask him softly, my big eyes staring him down.

Responding with a bitter chuckle, he looks at me. With disbelief, he bites his lip and shakes his head. Taking a few calming breaths, he then casually retorts, "No. Not really. Let's pretend you didn't just kill us both."

"So it's true? You could've...told me."

He shakes his head again. "No, I couldn't. I'm very meticulous. Of course I don't give a fuck about you exposing this case, Athena. But I wasn't going to tell anyone that, even you. It would be some risk versus no risk if I kept it to my bloody self," he explains to me, clearly agitated.

Not missing a beat, I then say, "Okay, but you knew I was going to find out at some point."

"I wasn't counting on that. I thought you'd get a little frightened and back off. Especially after Ernest's threats. I accounted for a lot of variables, but you're not one of them," he tells me seriously, looking right at me. "But...I should've fucking known...I don't go to the lengths I went to in order to protect your meddling arse for just anyone."

"So...you inserted yourself into a case you wanted to know about so much, that you became one of the lawyers on it...You're only involved to see if it wins or not, see if you can control certain things for your benefit...," I conclude quietly, raising an eyebrow at him. "That's some...strategy."

"Yeah, some. I'm not quite finished."

Boldy, I remark, "And you don't care what I find out about the case, because whatever it will be...it's going to be completely unrelated to you."

"Mhm, are we done now? I just found my office and possibly every other piece of real-estate I owned was bugged. I'm about to be quite busy."

Huffing, I pause before asking, "You have a strategy for this. To go against Ernest in case he'd turn on you completely like this. What...is it?"

Harry stares at me curiously, eyes squinted as he inhales deeply. "You're not going to know. And for the record, you cannot go out alone anymore after this."

"I figured you'd say something like that."

"It's not banter, Athena. This just turned into a war."

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