Chapter 56

Lucas nodded, his expression growing more serious. "There's something else we should discuss. You and Hunter are now on opposing sides of a case. It might be wise to maintain professional distance. Our colleagues are already gossiping, and it could affect your reputation."

I wanted to explain that I needed Hunter's help with my father's case, but I couldn't reveal that information. If Lucy's family had retained Hunter, he'd likely signed confidentiality agreements. I couldn't risk putting him in an ethically compromising position.

"Understood," I replied, my tone deliberately neutral.

"I should meet this insistent client," I said, smoothly changing the subject. "Where are they waiting?"

Lucas directed me to the reception area, where I found Mr. Cox, the CEO of a prominent jewelry company, pacing nervously. His tailored suit and perfectly manicured appearance couldn't hide the anxiety radiating from him.

"Attorney James," he said with obvious relief when he saw me. "Thank you for seeing me."

I gestured for him to sit and took the chair opposite him. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Cox?"

"We're being accused of plagiarism," he explained, frustration evident in his voice. "Our new jewelry collection launched yesterday, and today our main competitor filed a lawsuit claiming we stole their designs. But that's impossible – we've been developing this collection for months!"

"Yet their designs are identical to yours?" I asked, my mind already analyzing the situation.

"Almost exactly the same," Mr. Cox confirmed, his fist clenching on his knee. "It's creating a PR nightmare. The media is already reporting on it, damaging our company's image. We need this resolved immediately."

I took a sip of coffee, considering the peculiar timing. "How many people were aware of the designs before they were released?"

"Just myself, the design director, and the original designer," he replied promptly.

"And when did your competitor release their collection?"

"About three days ago. They hadn't done much marketing yet, which is why we weren't aware of the similarity until now."

I nodded, the picture becoming clearer. "For both collections to launch so close together and be virtually identical... someone set a trap for you."

Mr. Cox's eyes widened as he caught my implication. "You think we have a leak?"

"It's the most logical explanation," I confirmed. "Here's what you should do: call your design director and original designer into your office separately. Tell them you installed monitoring software on the company computers and now need to check their devices."

I leaned forward, my voice dropping slightly. "Watch their reactions carefully. The guilty party will show signs of nervousness. Make sure you record everything – video and audio. Once we identify your company's spy, we can counter-sue your competitor."

Mr. Cox's expression transformed from despair to hope. "That's brilliant! A simple solution I never would have thought of."

"Sometimes the simplest approaches are the most effective," I replied with a small smile.

"I'll implement this immediately," he said, standing with renewed energy. "Thank you, Attorney James. Your reputation truly doesn't do you justice."

As I watched him leave, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. In those few brief minutes, I'd forgotten about Hunter, about my father's case, about all the personal complications swirling around me.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of Sullivan & James as I told Lucas a well-crafted lie about needing to check on the jewelry case. In reality, I was heading straight to Huxley & Partners. I'd made up my mind to try one more time to convince Hunter to help me uncover the truth about my father's case.

I nodded politely to the receptionist at Hunter's firm, who recognized me immediately.

"Attorney James," she greeted me, seeming slightly confused. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Huxley?"

"No need," I replied with practiced casualness. "He'll see me."

Without waiting for her response, I strode directly to Hunter's office, dismissing her flustered protests. Finding the office empty, I decided to wait for him there. I settled into his high-backed leather chair, picked up a leather-bound book from his shelf, and helped myself to the fresh fruit his secretary had arranged on his desk.

Though I projected relaxation, my heart hammered against my ribs. After our last encounter, I wasn't certain he would even acknowledge me, let alone assist with my father's case.

I absently flipped through the book's pages without absorbing a single word, mentally rehearsing my approach when Hunter arrived. Minutes stretched endlessly, eventually spanning nearly two hours. Several times footsteps approached, only to continue past the door. Despite my increasingly frayed nerves, I maintained my deliberately nonchalant posture.

Finally, the door swung open. Hunter stood in the threshold, briefcase in hand, his expression transforming from distraction to surprise and then distinct displeasure in a heartbeat.

"Jane." My name fell from his lips like a verdict, not a greeting.

Setting the book aside, I instantly brightened my face with my most dazzling smile and sprang to my feet. I rushed toward him, twining my arm through his, my voice deliberately effervescent.

"Attorney Hunter, you're finally back! I've been waiting for two hours. What would you like for dinner tonight?"

His response was immediate—he extracted his arm from my grasp with fluid efficiency.

"Does Lucas know you're here?" His voice carried an arctic chill, his eyes narrowed to slits.

The question blindsided me. What possible relevance did Lucas have to this situation?

"Why does it matter if he knows or not?" I replied, genuinely puzzled.

Before I could fully register his hardening expression, his fingers closed firmly around my upper arm. With surprising strength, he guided—or more accurately, propelled—me toward the door. By the time I gathered my thoughts, I found myself standing in the hallway, the door closing behind me with a decisive thud followed by the unmistakable click of a lock engaging.

"Are you kidding me?" I pounded on the door with my fist. "At least let me finish what I was saying!"

Silence answered.

"Hunter?" I tried again, adjusting my tone to something more persuasive. "Mr. Huxley?" Nothing. My frustration mounted rapidly. "You jerk, are you really not going to open the door?" I twisted the handle futilely. "You're seriously not opening it?"

In a flash of unchecked emotion, I kicked the door with my heel, wincing as the impact vibrated painfully up my leg.

Several associates had paused in the hallway, watching this spectacle with poorly disguised interest. Heat flushed up my neck as I realized how this scene must appear.

I turned to face them, injecting steel into my posture. "Go about your business, don't mind mine."

They scattered quickly, but my humiliation lingered like a persistent perfume.

Hunter's secretary approached cautiously, her expression uncomfortable. "Attorney James, Mr. Huxley has requested that you leave..."

"Do you have a key to his office?" I interrupted sharply.

She shook her head. "No, he keeps the only key himself."

"Fine. Go about your business," I dismissed her, then pulled out my phone to call my security team. "I need a locksmith at Huxley & Partners immediately. Be discreet."