Chapter 3 #2
I was still formulating my opening line when I pushed the door open. It was becoming a pattern between this man and me: rehearse extensively, abandon everything on contact.
The door was ajar, warm light spilling across the carpet like an invitation or a trap. I pushed it open without knocking.
He sat behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms braced on the polished wood as he stared at his laptop screen. The harsh monitor glow carved sharp shadows into his face, and for a split second before he looked up, I saw something I hadn't expected.
Exhaustion. Deep and bone-weary, the kind that sleep doesn't fix. The kind that comes from carrying something heavy for too long.
Then his eyes met mine, and the mask slammed down. But I'd seen it. The crack in the ice.
"Ms. Ashford." His voice was a low rumble in the quiet room. "Office hours ended four hours ago."
"I'm not here for office hours." I stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind me. "I know what you're doing."
Something flickered in his expression, either wariness or calculation, before it smoothed into perfect neutrality. "That's a bold opening. Care to be more specific?"
"The departures. Anders. Jenkins. Prentiss.
Chen. Whitmore." I ticked the names off, watching his face for any reaction.
He gave me nothing. "Every single one of them had a scandal break within forty-eight hours of leaving this firm.
Sealed settlements unsealed. Hidden convictions exposed.
Anonymous tips to exactly the right journalists.
" I moved closer to his desk, my heart pounding faster than I wanted it to.
"The pattern isn't a coincidence. It's orchestration. "
"That's quite a theory."
"It's not a theory. I pulled the access logs." I held his gaze, refusing to blink. "Your code appears on every single file in the weeks before each person's downfall. WAS-1. You've been hunting them, Mr. Steele. The question isn't who, I've figured that out. The question is why."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched me with an expression I couldn't read, which was unusual, because reading people was literally what I did for a living.
Then, slowly:
"Why do you care?" he asked finally, his voice quiet. Almost gentle.
The question caught me off guard. "Excuse me?"
"You have the pattern. You have the access logs.
You have everything you need to write a very damning preliminary report.
" He tilted his head, studying me. "You could call the bar right now.
Call the managing partners. Burn my reputation to the ground and walk away clean. " A pause. "Why haven't you?"
Because I needed to see your face when I confronted you. Because I needed to know if you'd deny it or own it.
Because the people whose careers he'd destroyed weren't innocent, and that fact was doing something complicated to my certainty.
"Because the people you've destroyed..." The words stuck in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. "Their records. Their histories. They weren't one-time mistakes, were they?"
Something shifted in his expression. The mask didn't crack, but it... thinned. Like he was allowing me to see the outline of what lay beneath.
"Were any of your father's victims innocent?" The question was quiet, precise, devastating. "The factory worker whose retirement evaporated? The secretary who had to postpone her daughter's wedding? The teacher who lost his pension three years before he planned to retire?"
I flinched. I couldn't help it.
"Don't." My voice came out harder than I intended. "Don't you dare compare yourself to..."
"I'm not comparing myself to your father.
" He leaned forward, his eyes intent on mine.
"I'm pointing out that you know what it looks like when someone hides crimes behind respectability.
A good neighbor. A loving parent. A trusted professional.
" Each word landed like a stone. "You grew up in that house, Ms. Ashford.
You ate dinner with that mask every night for twenty-four years.
You know how convincing it can be. How easy it is to miss the rot underneath. "
"My father made terrible choices." The words felt like glass in my mouth. "He was weak, and he was selfish, and he destroyed people's lives. But he wasn't..." I stopped, unsure of what I was defending.
"Wasn't what? A predator?" Will's voice was almost gentle now, which somehow made it worse.
"The people I've removed from this firm were.
Anders sexually harassed three different women and paid to make it disappear.
Jenkins committed fraud that would have cost her clients everything if she hadn't been caught.
Prentiss..." His jaw clenched. "Prentiss belonged to an organization that advocates for ethnic cleansing.
These aren't people who made mistakes. These are people who hurt others and use their positions to escape consequences. "
"That's not your decision to make."
"No?" He held my gaze, unwavering. "Then whose is it?
The system that protected Anders because he was a good earner?
The HR department that ignored complaints about Prentiss because he had powerful clients?
The law that sealed Jenkins's records so she could victimize new targets?
" His voice dropped. "The system fails, Ms. Ashford.
Every day. It fails the people who deserve protection while shielding the people who cause harm. I simply... correct the balance."
"That's vigilante justice."
"That's justice. The other kind, the clean, procedural, by-the-book kind... that's a luxury for people who've never watched the system fail someone they love."
His last words landed differently from the rest. Heavier. Personal. He'd said them like they cost something.
"Show me proof," I said.
The words left my lips before I could stop them, born from that space between what I was supposed to do and what I wanted to understand.
"Show me they deserved it. Show me your evidence: the cases, the complaints, the documentation."
Silence crashed over us like a wave. I watched something shift behind Will Steele's eyes. The mask didn't fade. It did something worse.
It slipped. Just enough for me to glimpse what lay beneath, surprise, or recognition, or something I'd only see clearly much later. And beneath that, something that looked almost like hope.
The expression lasted only a heartbeat. Then his face smoothed back into careful neutrality, but the damage was done. I'd seen it.
He didn't speak. Didn't move. Just looked at me with those ice-blue eyes, and I felt the weight of the moment pressing down on both of us. I'd just asked him to trust me with everything. His methods. His secrets. His reasons.
I'd just stepped off the edge of the safe, procedural world I'd built my entire career inside.
And I had absolutely no idea what I'd find at the bottom.