The Perfect Betrayal

Glancing at the neat envelope on her desk, Ava Sinclair sees her name crisply and coldly etched in silver on the front. Roman Devereux, the client she was supposed to meet, was profiled inside. A ricocheted bullet has been sending the name whizzing through Manhattan's elite circles. 

Some saw him as a scapegoat, while others saw him as a criminal genius accused of stealing secrets from companies. Both of those things were out of Ava's time.

Pressing out a crease in her fitted blazer, she seemed to be trying to soothe the growing annoyance.

“Ms. Sinclair?” her assistant, Clara, poked her head through the office door. “Mr. Devereux is here.”

“Show him in.” Ava kept her head down as she wrote down every piece of evidence and flipped through the folder. She valued knowing more than her clients knew about their own cases. It made it easy to manage the narrative.

The door clicked open, and Ava looked up to find Roman Devereux leaning casually against the frame. He wasn’t what she expected. Most guys in his position—backed into a corner with their reputation on fire—oozed desperation. Roman, however, carried himself like he’d already won.

“Ms. Sinclair,” he greeted, his voice low and sweet. He crossed the room in a few deliberate paces and extended his hand.

Ava didn’t move. “We can skip the formalities, Mr. Devereux. Take a seat.”

His lips quirked as he lowered his hand and sat. “Direct. I like that.”

“Your charges are not a joke,” she said, addressing his gaze. His eyes were piercing, evaluating, the kind that seemed to peel back layers. Ava hated it. “Corporate espionage, insider trading, data theft. You’re looking at possibly federal time.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then I assume you also understand that if you’re guilty, you’re wasting my time.” She pushed the folder across the desk. “I don’t lose cases, but I also don’t take on clients who lie to me.”

Roman didn’t look at the folder. “Good thing I’m not lying.”

“That remains to be seen.” Ava sank back in her chair, her arms crossed. “Start talking. Why are you here?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, as if trying how far she’d let him push. Finally, he replied, “I need someone who can win against Evelyn Sinclair.”

Ava’s fingers tightened on the armrest. “I’m not interested in family drama.”

“This isn’t about family. It’s about justice.” Roman’s voice didn’t increase, but there was an edge to it now. “Evelyn destroyed my father’s company. She devastated my family. And now, she’s using me as her scapegoat to defend her empire.”

Ava laughed, quick and humorless. “You’re accusing my mother of setting you up? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I do. But that doesn’t make it untrue.” Roman leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t have to believe me. Not yet. But if you take this case, you’ll see for yourself. Evelyn Sinclair is everything people accuse me of being—and worse.”

Ava stared at him. His confidence was unsettling, almost reckless. Most individuals were hesitant to speak Evelyn’s name, let alone accuse her of coordinating a conspiracy this tricky.

“You have evidence?” she asked finally.

Roman smiled. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

She stood abruptly. “This isn’t a game, Mr. Devereux. I have no desire in being drawn into some petty feud against my mother. If you can’t give proof, I can’t represent you I'm sorry.”

Roman rose as well, his actions slow and deliberate. “You’ll take the case.”

“Arrogance doesn’t impress me.”

“It’s not arrogance,” he continued, his voice calm but forceful. “It’s confidence in your curiosity. You’re too smart not to demand answers, Ava. And you know this case will deliver them to you.”

She hated that he was right.

“Get out of my office,” she said, her tone harsh.

Roman didn’t argue. He nodded his head, got his coat, and walked out without more word.

When the door shut, Ava sat back down, her pulse racing. Her mother’s name had always been an eerie presence in her life, a shadow she battled tirelessly to flee. Roman Devereux had just tied her directly to it, forcing her to confront what she had avoided for years.

She looked at the file on her desk, Roman’s smirk replaying in her head.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Clara stuck her head in again, appearing uneasy. “Ms. Sinclair, you have a call. From your mother.”

Ava’s jaw tightened. “Tell her I’ll call her back.”

“She said it’s urgent.”

Ava closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Fine. Put her through.”

The connection clicked, and Evelyn’s voice filled the room, chilly and controlled. “Ava.”

“Mother,” she said, her tone perfectly calm.

“I assume you’ve met Mr. Devereux.”

Ava’s grasp on the phone tightened. “Why?”

“Because if you’re smart, you’ll stay as far away from him as possible.”

Evelyn’s warning wasn’t surprising, but it sent a chill through her nonetheless. Ava has spent years creating her reputation independent from her mother’s name. But Roman Devereux had just made it apparent that Evelyn Sinclair was still manipulating strings in her life.

Ava hung up without further word, her decision made.

She was taking the case.

Ava calls Roman’s number, her voice steady despite the storm brewing in her chest. “Mr. Devereux, you have my attention. Now tell me everything.”