chapter 1

Elena Sinclair had never lost a case—until today.

She stood outside the courthouse, gripping the file in her hands so tightly that the edges crumpled. The sting of defeat burned in her chest, but it wasn’t just the loss that infuriated her. It was him.

Damian Westwood emerged from the courthouse with that signature smirk, the kind that made her blood boil. His navy-blue suit was crisp, his tie perfectly knotted, and his confidence radiated off him in waves. The sun hit his dark hair just right, making him look like he belonged on the cover of a legal magazine. And he probably would be—tomorrow’s headlines would sing his praises, while hers would whisper about her failure.

She hated him.

“Well, well,” Damian drawled as he approached her. “That was quite the performance in there, Sinclair. Almost had me worried.”

Elena gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain composed. “Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Westwood. Appeals exist for a reason.”

His smirk deepened. “Ah, yes, the classic sore-loser approach. Tell me, do you ever get tired of making excuses?”

“Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” she shot back.

He chuckled, and it was infuriating how effortless it sounded. “Not when I’m saying something worth hearing.”

Elena wanted to throw her coffee at him. Instead, she exhaled sharply, shoving the case file into her bag. “You got lucky. Don’t expect it to happen again.”

Damian took a step closer, his presence annoyingly commanding. “Luck had nothing to do with it, sweetheart. Maybe next time, focus less on hating me and more on your strategy.”

Sweetheart.

The audacity of him.

Before she could say something that would get her disbarred, her phone buzzed. A message from her father’s assistant:

Emergency meeting. Now.

Her stomach tightened. Emergency meetings weren’t common at Sinclair & Associates. If something was urgent enough to require her presence immediately after a trial, it had to be serious.

She glanced at Damian, who was checking his phone with the same furrowed expression.

“Looks like we’re both needed elsewhere,” he mused, slipping his phone back into his pocket. His smug expression returned as he stepped past her. “Try not to let this loss keep you up at night.”

Elena watched him walk away, her hands curled into fists.

She had no idea that this was just the beginning.

The Meeting

The Sinclair law firm’s conference room was silent, save for the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. The tension in the air was suffocating.

Elena sat across from her father, Robert Sinclair, whose face was unreadable as he thumbed through a thick file of documents. Beside him, the firm’s senior partners exchanged uneasy glances.

She straightened her posture. “What’s going on?”

Her father looked up, his gaze heavy. “There’s been an allegation made against both our firm and Westwood & Co.”

Elena frowned. “What kind of allegation?”

Before he could answer, the conference room door swung open.

Damian Westwood entered, his expression just as confused as hers. Behind him, Richard Westwood—his father—walked in with the same commanding presence as Robert Sinclair.

Elena’s eyes narrowed. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just affecting Sinclair & Associates. It was affecting both firms.

Her father slid a document across the table. “An anonymous whistleblower has accused our firms of colluding to rig high-profile cases.”

The words sent a jolt through her. “What?”

Damian’s smirk was gone. He picked up the document, scanning it quickly before scoffing. “This is ridiculous. Our firms have been at war for years. Why the hell would we be colluding?”

“That’s exactly what makes the accusation so dangerous,” Richard Westwood said, rubbing his temple. “The claim is that the rivalry is a front—that our firms have secretly been working together behind closed doors to control major corporate cases.”

Elena’s stomach twisted. “That’s absurd. We’d never—”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s absurd,” her father interrupted. “The press is already digging into it. And if we don’t get ahead of this, it could ruin both firms.”

For the first time in her life, Elena and Damian were sitting on the same side of a fight. And neither of them liked it.

Forced to Work Together

The next morning, Elena walked into Sinclair & Associates and immediately regretted showing up.

Damian was waiting for her in the main office, leaning against her desk like he belonged there.

She groaned. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“I don’t recall inviting you into my office.”

“Your father did.” Damian pulled out a file and tossed it onto her desk. “Turns out, we have to work together on this.”

She stared at the file as if it personally offended her. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was.”

Elena clenched her jaw. The last thing she wanted was to be forced into proximity with him, but the stakes were too high. If they didn’t find the source of this accusation, their firms would take a hit they might not recover from.

She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m not your friend, and I sure as hell don’t trust you.”

Damian smirked. “Oh, Sinclair. If I wanted your trust, I’d have had it years ago.”

She grabbed the file and flipped it open. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Damian pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Buckle up, sweetheart. This is just the beginning.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right.

And neither of them were ready for what came next.

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