CHAPTER 1

Arrival at Hayes & Parker LLP

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the expansive, high-ceilinged lobby of Hayes & Parker LLP. The grandeur of the law firm was both intimidating and awe-inspiring. Gleaming marble floors stretched beneath Isla Carter's heels, and glass partitions framed towering shelves lined with legal tomes. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and polished wood permeated the air, mixing with the quiet hum of hushed conversations and ringing phones.

She took a deep breath, clutching the strap of her leather bag a little tighter. This was it. Her first day in one of the most prestigious law firms in the city.

Isla's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let her nerves get the best of her. She had worked too hard for this moment. Nothing—not doubt, not nerves, and certainly not intimidation—would derail her.

As she stepped toward the reception desk, the sound of brisk heels clicking against the floor made her turn. A woman, impeccably dressed in a navy-blue suit, approached her with the air of someone who had no patience for pleasantries.

"You must be Isla Carter," the woman said, not bothering to confirm before moving past her. "Follow me."

Isla hurried after her. "Yes, I—"

"I'm Eleanor Greene, senior associate," the woman continued, barely glancing at her. "I don't have time for introductions, so listen carefully. You have exactly one chance to prove yourself here. Mess up, and you'll be gone before you know it."

No pressure.

Eleanor led Isla through the corridors of the firm, past rows of offices filled with lawyers typing furiously or pacing while on calls.

"This is where everything happens," Eleanor said, without breaking stride. "You'll learn fast, or you won't last long."

Isla nodded, absorbing the overwhelming environment. Every desk she passed was stacked with legal briefs, binders, and case files. The air was thick with determination, the kind that made her both exhilarated and slightly terrified.

They stopped outside a glass-walled conference room, where a group of interns had already gathered. Eleanor turned to her.

"You're expected to listen, absorb, and keep up," she said. "Make an impression—but the right kind. Good luck."

Before Isla could respond, Eleanor pushed open the glass door, and all eyes turned to her.

Just as Isla was about to take a seat, a new presence entered the room.

The shift in atmosphere was instant. A commanding presence filled the space, thick with an authority that was impossible to ignore. The conversations hushed. Even the air seemed to still.

"Good morning, everyone."

Isla's heart pounded as she turned toward the source of the voice.

Ethan Hayes.

Even before she set foot in Hayes & Parker, she had known his name. Ethan Hayes wasn't just the co-founder of the firm—he was a legend in the legal world. A man whose name sent both admiration and fear rippling through courtrooms. Ruthless, brilliant, and impossibly disciplined, he had built a reputation that made him nearly untouchable.

And now, here he was.

He stood at the head of the conference room, tall and effortlessly composed, in a charcoal gray suit that fit him too well. His piercing gray eyes scanned the room with a calculated intensity that sent a shiver down Isla's spine.

Then, those same gray eyes landed on her.

And for a split second—so brief it could've been imagined—something flickered in his gaze.

Recognition? Surprise?

Whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly as it came.

Ethan cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the silence. "Welcome to Hayes & Parker. You're here because you're the best. We expect nothing less. You'll work harder than you ever have, and if you succeed, the opportunities will be limitless."

His tone was even, but there was an underlying challenge in his words.

"However," he continued, eyes sweeping the room, "if you think intelligence alone is enough, you're mistaken. This firm thrives on discipline, commitment, and sacrifice."

He paused, then let his gaze land on Isla again. This time, it lingered a little longer.

Isla swallowed hard.

What was that?

Was she imagining it?

She quickly looked away, focusing on the notes in front of her. She refused to be distracted—especially not by him.

Ethan stepped back, nodding toward Eleanor, who took over.

"You will each be given a case to research," Eleanor said briskly. "By the end of the week, you will present your findings. The weakest presentation? That person will not be here for week two."

A wave of tension rippled through the interns. Isla felt the pressure settle over her, but she straightened her shoulders. She could handle this.

She would handle this.

The meeting adjourned, and Isla quickly gathered her notes, intending to leave before anyone could notice how much Ethan's presence had unsettled her.

But fate had other plans.

As she turned to head toward the exit, she collided with something—someone—solid.

A strong hand gripped her wrist to steady her.

Her breath caught.

Ethan.

The air between them crackled, a tangible shift that neither of them seemed prepared for. His grip was firm but not painful, his touch warm even through the fabric of her sleeve.

For a brief moment, she was locked in place, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

His gray eyes studied her, unreadable yet piercing. Then, just as quickly, he released her, stepping back.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice softer than before.

Isla swallowed, nodding. "Sorry."

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, forcing herself not to look back.

That night, Isla sat at her desk, drowning in legal research. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the memory of Ethan's gaze.

The way his eyes had lingered.

The way her skin had burned where he touched her.

This was dangerous. Whatever that moment was, it could not happen again.

He was her boss. Untouchable. Out of reach.

And she had a career to build.

Isla shook her head, exhaling sharply.

She needed to forget about Ethan Hayes.

But as she closed her eyes, all she could see was him.

The office was unusually quiet that morning, the kind of eerie silence that made Isla feel like she was walking into something she couldn't quite see. She hadn't expected anything out of the ordinary—just another grueling day of research, case files, and trying not to let Ethan Hayes linger in her mind.

But then she saw it.

A small white envelope lay on top of the neatly stacked documents on her desk. It stood out starkly against the sea of legal papers, and for some reason, the sight of it sent an unsettling chill down her spine.

Frowning, Isla set down her coffee and reached for the envelope. There was no name on it. No sender. Just a blank, pristine surface.

Her heartbeat quickened.

With slightly shaky fingers, she unfolded the crisp paper inside. A single line of text stared back at her in bold, precise lettering.

Be careful.

Her breath hitched.

What the hell?

Her eyes darted around the office, but there was no one suspicious in sight. A few interns were hunched over their desks, immersed in their work. Across the room, Eleanor Greene barked orders at a junior associate. The usual hum of the firm was resuming, yet Isla felt like she was standing on the edge of something she couldn't quite comprehend.

Her hands tightened around the paper as she reread the message.

Was this a joke? Some sort of hazing ritual for new interns?

Or was it something more sinister?

A lump formed in her throat.

No. She was overreacting. It was probably nothing.

Still, she couldn't ignore the slight tremor in her hands as she folded the paper back up and slipped it into her bag.

But the feeling didn't go away.

As she tried to push it out of her mind and focus on work, she became acutely aware of every glance, every shift in the atmosphere around her. Had someone been watching her? Was she being paranoid, or had she really felt something yesterday when Ethan had looked at her longer than necessary?

The moment replayed in her mind—his sharp, assessing gaze, the way his fingers had lingered on her wrist just a second too long.

Was it connected?

No. That was ridiculous. Ethan Hayes wasn't the kind of man who left cryptic warnings. He was powerful, direct, and unapologetically ruthless. If he had something to say, he would say it to her face.

So, who left the note?

The question gnawed at her all morning.

At lunchtime, Isla took the note out of her bag, studying the ink. The handwriting was clean, professional. A printed font, not handwritten.

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her unease growing.

Something was wrong.

And the worst part?

She had no idea what she was supposed to be careful of.