Katherine
The hallway hums with quiet urgency—a battlefield of polished shoes and sharp ambition. Attorneys move with calculated precision, assistants trailing behind with stacks of documents, voices clipped and efficient.
Kath matches their pace, heels striking a sharp rhythm against the floor. She flips through a case file as she walks, mind moving faster than her steps—arguments, objections, timelines blurring into one long, focused thread.
She doesn’t see him.
Not until she’s nearly collided with his chest.
Her hand flies up instinctively, papers fluttering.
She freezes—half from shock, half from recognition.
Sinclair.
He steps back just enough to maintain composure, expression unimpressed. “By all means, Winters. Walk straight through me next time.”
Kath blinks once, quickly regaining her footing—and her posture. “Maybe if you didn’t materialize like a ghost in the middle of the hallway.”
He exhales, more scoff than breath. “Or maybe if you looked up once in a while.”
The air tightens—brief, pointed.
Then he tilts his head, gaze cool. “If you’re done babysitting junior cases, you might actually get something real next week.”
She squares her shoulders, tone dry. “Didn’t realize you were promoting based on near-collisions now.”
A flicker of something—amusement, maybe—flashes in his eyes. But it's gone in an instant. “You haven’t drowned yet,”
he says, voice low, measured. “So maybe you’re worth testing.”
Kath’s heart trips, quick and unwelcome. But her face doesn’t move. “Can’t wait,” she answers, voice sharp as glass.
Then she walks past him—faster than before, spine straight.
Ben watches her go, expression unreadable. But his gaze lingers longer than it should.