CHAPTER 7 - THE KIND ENEMY

POV: Lisa

The envelope did not contain a confession.

Lisa had known better than to hope for one. Criminals were never that generous. Inside was a single photograph printed on cheap paper: her father’s face through prison glass, blurred but unmistakable. Someone had taken it during her last visit.

Camille cursed so softly it sounded like prayer.

Lisa did not.

Rage could be useful if she kept it cold.

By noon, the photograph was inside a plastic sleeve on Hamilton’s desk. By one, Hamilton had said the words protective order, intimidation and do not move without telling me at least seven times. By three, Lisa had done exactly what he told her not to do.

She went to the law school auditorium.

Lucas Lawson’s conference had been scheduled weeks before, part lecture, part recruitment event, part public performance by a man everyone said was too young to have beaten so many senior prosecutors. Lisa had attended the first half the day before and left with Ethan’s eyes burning a hole through her spine.

Today, she returned because Lucas had mentioned something no one else had: old access-control systems.

—Hotels lie, he told the room, sleeves rolled to his forearms, voice calm enough to make every student lean forward.

—Not intentionally. Systems do not understand context. A badge swipe tells you a credential moved through a door. It does not tell you the person wearing the credential had the right to wear it.

Lisa stopped taking notes.

Lucas’s gaze passed over the audience and found her for half a second. Not flirtation. Recognition.

Professional. Measured.

Dangerous because it was useful.

After the lecture, students gathered around him with resumes and bright smiles. Lisa waited at the edge until the crowd thinned. She had learned from her father that desperation should never be the first thing a person sees.

Lucas approached first.

—Miss Hasse.

She lifted her chin.

—Mr. Lawson.

—I wondered whether you would come back.

—I wondered whether you would say anything worth coming back for.

A corner of his mouth moved.

—Did I?

—Possibly.

—Then I should be careful. Possible is almost praise from you.

Lisa should not have liked that. She did not have room to like anything.

Lucas lowered his voice.

—I know your father’s case.

—Everyone does.

—I know it beyond the headlines.

That made her still.

—My firm represented the contractor that installed the Waldorf’s older service-wing cameras, he said.

—Before my time, but the archive exists. If the police are relying only on current hotel exports, they may be missing the backup logs.

Lisa felt the air shift.

—Why are you telling me this?

—Because your father once saved my brother from a charge that would have ended his life before it started.

Edward had never mentioned that.

Of course he had not. Her father collected people quietly. Favours, loyalties, rescued futures. He never used them unless someone else needed protection.

Lucas handed her a card. Not his public card. This one had a direct number written across the back.

—Have Hamilton call me. I cannot interfere without formal permission.

—You believe my father is innocent?

—I believe evidence that convenient deserves to be insulted.

It was the first thing anyone outside her circle had said that made Lisa want to breathe.

Across the lobby, cameras flashed.

Not press. Phones.

Lisa turned.

Ethan Elsner stood near the glass doors, black coat open, jaw locked. He was not looking at Lucas.

He was looking at the card in Lisa’s hand.

For one terrible second, the room became small enough to hold only the three of them.

Lucas noticed, because men like him noticed everything.

—Do you want me to walk you out?

—No.

Ethan moved first.

Lisa wanted to hate the way her body knew his movement before her mind named him. Wanted to hate the memory of his hand over her mouth in the study, his breath in her hair, his voice telling her not to go out because the world had just become dangerous.

He stopped two steps away.

—Lisa.

—No.

His eyes narrowed.

—No?

—No, you don’t get to say my name like an apology and expect me to stand still.

Lucas did not step between them. That, oddly, made Lisa respect him more.

Ethan’s gaze cut to him.

—Lawson.

—Elsner.

—Are you representing her?

—Not yet.

—Then stay out of my family’s murder.

Lisa laughed once. It sounded nothing like joy.

—Your family’s murder? she said.

—How convenient. Mine only got blamed for it.

Something flickered in Ethan’s face. Pain. Anger. Guilt. She did not care which.

She lifted Lucas’s card.

—Tell your mother, Lisa said,

—that I found the first loose thread.

Ethan went completely still.

—What does my mother have to do with this?

Lisa stepped closer, close enough to see the pulse move in his throat.

—That is exactly what I am going to find out.

She walked past him.

This time, Ethan did not stop her.

But when she reached the sidewalk, her phone lit with a message from an unknown number.

C.M. is not a person.

It is an account.