The Catalyst

The soft click of the door echoed in the silence as Norah stepped into the dim hush of her apartment, nestled within a discreet district that curled near the lake house. Evening bled slowly through the sheer drapes, tinting the high-ceilinged space with lilac and ash. The scent of polished wood, aged books, and a faint trace of bergamot welcomed her like an old friend, familiar, safe, distant.

She moved with the precision of a woman who'd spent too long in courtrooms, whose heels learned not to echo too loudly even on marble. Her purse, sleek and minimal, slid from her shoulder and poised gently atop the study's elegant desk, a modern piece with gold trimming, glass finish, and a hidden compartment few would guess at.

She exhaled slowly, fingers brushing across its smooth surface, then moved toward the balcony. She slid the glass doors open, letting the crisp air kiss her cheeks. The city below was quieter in this district,vno sirens, no flashing lights, just a tranquil murmur like a sleeping beast beneath silk.

And yet… she could feel him.

The presence of Jacob clung to her like static, raw and magnetic, like the crackling air before a thunderstorm. It wasn't in the space around her, it was in her blood. Her skin prickled as though he'd stood just behind her, close enough for his breath to warm the curve of her neck. She braced her palms on the railing, her knuckles whitening.

Damn him.

She closed her eyes and the image bloomed with agonizing clarity, his face from earlier, shadowed and solemn, the way he had looked at her. Not just at her… into her. As though he was searching for something he wasn't sure he deserved, forgiveness, maybe. Or remnants of what they used to be.

But she had learned the hard way.

Jacob, once Jake, had been a silver-spooned brat who grew into a ruthless tycoon, swaddled in luxury and sculpted charm. Behind those honey coloured eyes and devastating smile was a man who played with innocence like it was clay. And she, back then, had been the perfect sculpt.

Now she was steel. Unyielding. Composed. Professional.

She was stuck with him this season, shackled to the PR disaster he'd become. But she would win his case, because she never lost. Never. Failure was a disease she had cured long ago.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

The screen lit up: Eloá Adele.

She answered with a warmth that instinctively softened her posture. "Mommy!" chirped her daughter's angelic voice, cutting through the heaviness like dawn.

"Sweetheart, Adele. How are you?"

"Despite missing you a whole lot, I'm good! How are you holding up with the case? I mean… the news is everywhere."

Norah raised a brow, smirking. "Hmm, really? Since when did you care about the news? I thought it was always 'boring' for you?"

"Sure, Mom. But this one is different… worth accompanying," Adele replied, her tone mischievously proud.

"Really? And how so?" Norah asked, amused, though something tightened inside her.

"You're working for the fashion icon—JACOB EVERSON! How honoring!" Adele spoke in a rush, barely breathing between words.

Norah's smile faltered. Her fingers gripped the phone tighter.

"I see… so you're interested in my client?" she asked, her voice trying to remain even.

"Who wouldn't be, Mom? He's handsome, kind-hearted, and built an empire on his own. That's so inspiring."

In the background, Alana nearly choked on her tea. She stared at the girl in utter disbelief. Inspiring? The man who discarded her sister like ruined couture?

Norah swallowed a storm. "Hmm. I guess you're right. I hope you're enjoying Aunt Alana."

"Oh yes, as always. She's terrific," Adele beamed.

"Good. I promise to be back soon, okay, honey pie?"

"I'll be waiting, Mom." A pause. "Huh… Mom?"

"Yes, darling?" Norah encouraged.

"Will you introduce me to Mr. Everson? I'm a big fan of his work. And… I've even crafted my own designs. It'd be an honor to show him. Maybe—maybe he'll even approve them?"

Norah's breath hitched. Her vision blurred for a second as the magnitude of it washed over her.

Jacob could never see her daughter. Could never look at her. He would know. He would know. She feared Jacob would see the similarities her daughter embodied strikingly like her father.

But how could she deny the girl that innocent dream? Adele was a golden child, obedient, brilliant, compassionate. A reflection of everything Norah had done right in life.

She sighed. "Of course, honey. I think he'll want to see a talented opponent."

Adele squealed. "Oh wow, thanks Mom! You're the best!"

Norah smiled. "We'll talk tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I love you, dearest."

"I love you to the moon and back. Goodnight, Mom."

Norah giggled. "Love you to the whole cosmos. Catch you later, honey."

Adele grinned and handed the phone to Alana, kissing her aunt before padding off to bed. Tomorrow was her big day, her physics tournament at school.

Norah's eyes stayed on the screen for a moment longer.

"Say, Alana," she murmured.

"You're working with that scoundrel of a man?!" Alana demanded, arms crossed. Adele had long gone to her chamber.

"I know. Hugh must've done this on purpose."

"Are you okay, sis?"

"I will be. Once I come home."

Alana's voice softened. "I know you still love him. I just hope everything goes smoothly."

"You underestimate your elder sister too much. I surely don't love a man like Mr. Everson," Norah said smoothly.

"If you say so. Just be careful. He's got a lot of enemies."

Norah nodded. "I'll be safe. And I'm proud of you, darling."

She hung up.

Silence fell again.

She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a weathered card, Maxen Dell , Private Counsel & Intelligence Liaison.

Her hand hovered for a moment. Then she dialed.

One ring. Two. Then ...

"Norah Draven," said the voice on the other line, as smooth and dangerous as ever.

"It's been a long time, Maxen."

"Too long. I only hear from you when there's blood in the water. What's wrong?"

"Everything," she replied. "I need a full trace on Neila Blackwood. I want to know who's backing her, what she's planning, anything. No stones left unturned."

"You got it." A pause. "And Norah?"

"Yes?"

"If she's come out of hiding, it's not politics anymore. This is personal."

"I know," she whispered.

And she hung up.

---

The morning sun spilled cold light across the wide glass panes of Jacob's corner office. The city glinted below like a kingdom of silver and steel. Inside, the room was immaculate, marble flooring, abstract black-and-white art, a glimmering mahogany desk that had seen empires rise and fall.

Jacob stood behind it, clad in a pristine charcoal CEO suit, each line of fabric sewn like it knew how to command a nation.

His fingers were tense against the edge of the desk, but his expression was unreadable. Cold. Controlled. A volcano disguised as a glacier.

Eli burst in, breathless, holding an iPad. "Sir, another investment was canceled."

Jacob looked up. "Lunaris?" His voice was deadly calm.

"Yes, sir. That was one of our strongest allies."

Lunaris, the crown jewel of Sardis' cosmetic empires. A company that didn't just sell beauty, they built it into legends.

"We also lost twenty million crowns on Project Blueprint."

Jacob's jaw ticked.

Iris James, Head of Human Resources, spoke up from behind Eli. "Your lawyer… I hope she's capable of fixing this."

"If there is anyone capable of sorting this out, that person is Norah Draven, Seven years in her career, never lost a case," someone else cut in. "She's the same woman who took Daniel Romanoff down."

"If she can prove Mrs. Everson's fraud," another murmured.

Just then, the doors flung open.

A young woman, barely in her twenties, rushed in holding a jet-black folder. "Sir. This arrived for you, urgent."

Jacob took the folder. The room hushed.

He opened it.

His eyes scanned the contents, and a smirk curled, dark, slow, dangerous.

"Impressive," he muttered.

He closed the file.

"Do not forward this to my lawyer," he said, eyes sharp. "I'll deliver it to her myself."

The board members froze astonished, then nodded in silence.

"Yes, sir."

They all exited swiftly, leaving him alone in the sun-drenched stillness of power.

Jacob buttoned his blazer and began to pace. His jaw locked. His eyes burned.

He had just received something that changed everything.

And she, Norah Draven, would be the first to know.