Chapter 2

I calmly checked the profiles of the last three candidates.

A knock sounded at the door.

David bustled in, his spine bent into a deferential curve as he escorted an elderly woman inside.

"Ethan, this is Lucas’ grandmother, Madam Evelyn Thompson."

He finished speaking, shot me a sharp, burning warning with his eyes, and pulled the door shut behind him.

I looked up.

She wore a dark navy silk dress. Her silver-streaked hair was pinned back without a single stray strand, and gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose.

Though she was well into her seventies, her face barely showed a line. Living a pampered life clearly kept time at bay.

"Mr. Winslow."

She took a seat, radiating the effortless snobbery that only came from decades of wealth and privilege.

"My grandson wants to work at your firm. Please arrange it."

A thick, heavy envelope slid across the desk.

I stared at her hand. Smooth, fair, with a brilliant emerald diamond ring gleaming on her ring finger.

Those hands had never known a hard day’s work.

The real Evelyn Thompson did not have hands like that.

The real woman spent her entire life working backbreaking factory shifts and mending clothes by the lamplight. Her knuckles grew thick and twisted, her hands forever wrapped in rag bandages, her fingers stiff and frozen until the day she died.

I lifted my eyes, looking at her without a single trace of emotion.

"My interviews are over. Your grandson didn't make the cut."

Evelyn’s face instantly hardened.

Behind those gold frames, her eyes narrowed, probing me up and down.

"Mr. Winslow, Lucas won the national moot court championship, published six papers in major legal journals, and ranked first in his class every single year. Slamming the door in his face like that? Don't you think that’s ridiculous?"

"The candidates have already been selected," I said, sliding the heavy envelope back across the desk. "And they are a far better fit than your grandson."

She glanced down at the returned envelope. "What, not enough? Name your price."

I held her gaze.

"I have my own standards when picking candidates. As a renowned artist, I assumed you understood how rules work. Unless..."

I paused, meeting her cold glare head-on. "You think principles are something you can just buy off the shelf."

Evelyn’s expression darkened. She crossed her arms, letting out a sharp, mocking sneer.

"Listen here, lad, don't overestimate your standing."

Her gaze turned utterly dismissive, treating me like dirt under her heel.

"I've seen plenty of young people like you. Rising up the ranks using who-knows-what underhanded tricks to flatter some higher-up, and now you want to use my grandson to act like a beacon of morality? Know your place!

"Lucas lost his parents early. My husband and I poured half our lives into raising him. You’ll process his hire right now, or..."

Evelyn adjusted her gold glasses, throwing me a look of pure contempt.

"Our family has been rooted in this city's elite legal circles for decades. The influence our family has built isn’t something a nobody like you can buy by sucking up to a few bosses. Don't throw away the grace you're being offered."

I sat back, staring at her impassively.

Beneath that perfectly manicured facade, the filth she had hidden for fifty years was finally leaking out.

This was who she truly was.

She might have stolen someone else's identity, but the cruelty in her bones, the way she viewed everyone else as ants to be crushed, was something she could never wash away.

She was not Evelyn Thompson. The real Evelyn Thompson was my grandmother.

The woman who died with her eyes wide open, muttering her husband's name over and over with her final breaths.

I squeezed my hand into a tight fist beneath the desk, keeping my voice flat.

"Are you finished? Madam Evelyn, the interview results stand. Please leave."

Her eyebrows twisted into a sharp knot.

She stood up, grabbed the heavy envelope off the desk, and shoved it brutally into her handbag.

"You refused the easy way out. Just you wait!"

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her.

The click-clack of her heels echoed down the hallway, fading into silence.

Not ten minutes passed before David burst in again.

"Ethan, are you trying to start a riot? I’m telling you one last time! Get Lucas Parker processed immediately!"

I didn't move from my chair.

"Lucas Parker failed my interview. He isn't qualified."

I reached out and tapped the laptop screen in front of me.

"The portal authorization is under my account. I'm the only one with the password."

David's face turned ash-white.

"Ethan! You’re out of your absolute mind! Do you have any idea what rejecting him means? His grandfather is Arthur Parker! With a single word, he can crush this firm's entire future!

"Fix this right now, or you can start packing your desk!"

I didn't utter a word. I just watched him rant.

The office fell into a dead silence for three full seconds.

Then I nodded slowly.

"Fine. I'll call Professor Arthur myself."

David blinked, caught off guard as if he hadn't expected me to yield so fast.

He glared at me for two heavy seconds before turning on his heel and slamming the door shut.

Outside, the afternoon sunlight shifted across the glass, casting a beam straight over the open file on my desk.

Arthur Parker.

Evelyn Thompson.

Written neatly in Lucas’ handwriting in the family section.

One was my grandfather, the scum who abandoned his wife and daughter.

The other was the woman who stole my grandmother's life.

A thief.

I stared at the paper for a long, silent moment.

Then I dialed the number.

"Professor Arthur, this is Ethan Winslow from Apex Legal. I'd like to meet with you in person regarding your grandson, Lucas."