The next witness was Derrick Walsh, a former junior associate at Vaughn & Reese. Young. Nervous.
Mira approached him with measured confidence.
“Mr. Walsh, can you tell us about the non-compete contracts issued by Vaughn & Reese?”
Walsh nodded. “They were… aggressive. Employees were required to sign clauses that barred them from working in similar firms for years.”
Mira tilted her head. “And what happened if they refused?”
Walsh swallowed. “They were… threatened.”
She let the word linger. “Can you elaborate?”
He hesitated. “Mr. Vaughn personally warned associates that breaking contract terms would lead to litigation, blacklisting, and… retaliation.”
A sharp inhale from the jury. Ethan shifted again.
Mira turned. “Did you experience this firsthand, Mr Walsh?”
He exhaled. “Yes. After considering a job elsewhere, I received an anonymous message detailing my parents’ home address and my sister’s daily routine.”
Silence. A brutal, charged silence.
“Your witness, Mr. Crowley.”
Crowley stood too fast. “Mr Walsh, are you implying Mr Vaughn personally made these threats?”
Walsh hesitated. “No. But—”
Crowley cut him off. “Then what proof do you have that these messages came from Vaughn & Reese?”
Mira slowly leaned back. She had him.
She turned to the screen behind her and pressed play.
A recorded call crackled to life. It was Ethan Vaughn’s voice.
“…You don’t break from this firm, Derrick. You don’t run. And if you try, I will bury you in ways you don’t even understand yet.”
The courtroom erupted.
Mira carefully watched Ethan. His expression was unreadable. But she knew. She had landed her first real blow.
As the judge announced the next date for hearing and dismissed the session, Mira toyed with her gold necklace, letting the soft clink of the chain echo in the stillness, a knowing smile playing on her lips as if the game had just begun. he walked slowly out of the courtroom, savouring her first victory.
Ethan was waiting for her in the corridor, leaning against the wall, navy suit pristine, tie loosened in that calculated way. His lips curled into something between amusement and warning.
“You didn’t have to go that hard, Mira,” he murmured. “Almost felt personal.”
She barely spared him a glance. “That’s because it is.”
His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist. Not hard. Not painful. Just enough to say he still thought he could touch her.
Mira arched a brow. “You want to do this here, Vaughn?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her into an empty room, the door clicking shut behind them. He crowded her against the table, hands bracing the surface on either side of her. She could smell him—woodsy, rich, familiar in a way that her body recognized, but her mind shut it off.
“You’ve had your fun in court,” he muttered. “But we both know how this ends.”
She tilted her head. “Do we?”
His hand skimmed down her waist, slow, testing. Like he expected her to shudder, to react the way she used to. And for a moment, she let him believe it.
Then she struck.
A twist of her wrist. A weight shift.
And suddenly, Ethan Vaughn was face-down on the table, wrists pinned behind his back, her body pressing him down. He let out a stunned breath, muscles tensing beneath her.
“What the—”
She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “The rules don’t change, Ethan,” she whispered. “When you lose… you kneel.”
His breath shuddered. She smirked.
And she let him go.
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