Chapter 6 Professional Growth
Serena Sinclair's POV:
The night air felt crisp against my face as I left the building. I was so lost in thoughts of my new beginning that I almost walked into him.
Alex stood blocking my path, his expression morphing from surprise to smug understanding as he took in my appearance. "Well, well. I should have known."
"Excuse me?" I tried to step around him.
He shifted to block my path, eyes trailing over my new haircut and designer suit. "The makeover, the shopping sprees, now showing up at my office district looking like this? You're not exactly subtle, Serena."
"Your office district?" I couldn't help but laugh. "This is the Financial District, Alex, not your personal place."
His face darkened. "You think I don't see what you're doing? The dramatic haircut, the designer clothes, parading around my territory? You're trying to get my attention, get back together with me."
"Don't be so confident. Not everything is about you." I felt a wave of pity wash over me.
He scoffed. "You've never worked a day in your life. You really think any firm would hire you? This is just another cry for attention."
"So this is what you think of me. Anyway, it's none of your business," I said, stepping past him.
Back at The Plaza, Sarah was waiting with a bottle of wine and takeout.
She asked, "Have you told your parents yet? About the divorce?"
"Not yet." I sank onto the couch. "I'm still trying to figure out how to explain that their perfect son-in-law tried to frame me for drug possession."
"They'll understand." She poured us both generous glasses of wine. "Your mom never liked him anyway. Said he reminded her of those peacocks at the zoo – all show, no substance."
I laughed despite myself. "Stay tonight? I could use the company."
"Of course." She kicked off her heels. "Besides, someone needs to help you plan your work wardrobe. You did get the job, right?"
"Two-year trial period." I sipped my wine. "Starting at the very bottom."
"You'll be the best lawyer in five years." Sarah's confidence was unwavering. "Alex never saw your potential. He was too busy trying to dim your light to make his shine brighter."
A hangover headache woke me at the hotel desk. My neck ached from the awkward sleeping position as I straightened up, massaging my shoulders. Empty champagne bottles and evidence of last night's shopping spree lay scattered around me.
"Oh my god, did you really fall asleep here?" Sarah emerged from the bathroom, already dressed for work. "There's a perfectly good bed right there, you know?"
"Must have passed out from the drinks," I yawned.
"Go take a shower and wake yourself up." She checked her phone while gathering her things. "Call me later?"
"Sure, drive safe," I said.
"Bye!"
After Sarah left, I finally had time to properly get ready. I took a quick shower, carelessly styled my hair, and slipped into my new suit. The woman in the mirror looked ready for a fresh start.
The receptionist at Kingsley recognized me and led me straight to Phillip's office. She knocked to announce my arrival before stepping away.
Phillip stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and as he turned, I realized he'd been waiting there. The morning sunlight behind him cast a golden glow around his silhouette.
"Serena." He gestured for me to sit.
"Good morning, Mr. Kingston."
"I have a client meeting this morning. Would you like to join?" He opened the folder on his desk.
The invitation surprised me. "Should I prepare anything?"
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Just listen to the case for now."
The firm's private elevator led directly to the parking garage. His Bentley sat in its reserved spot, its exterior gleaming softly under the fluorescent lights.
"The client prefers discretion, so we're meeting somewhere private," he explained simply during the drive.
The Italian restaurant in Lower East Side looked ordinary from the outside, but stepping inside revealed an atmosphere of understated elegance. We were led to a secluded private room where the client was already waiting.
James looked young, but his eyes carried that familiar tension common to startup founders. His company, QuickChain, was well-known in the cryptocurrency field, but the SEC had recently taken notice of them.
"This is Serena Sinclair, she'll be assisting with your case," Phillip introduced.
James explained his situation. He'd entered into a marriage of convenience to secure Series A funding. Now the investor had been caught by the SEC and confessed everything, leaving him facing fraud charges.
"Everything was done legally," James pushed a stack of documents across the table. "The marriage registration, the city hall ceremony—we followed all the rules."
I examined the materials carefully, my mind racing through possible defense strategies. "The issue isn't with the marriage procedure itself," I looked up at James. "The SEC is focused on your motivation."
Phillip remained silent, but I could feel him listening.
"The lack of cohabitation records can be explained—startup founders naturally keep irregular hours and travel frequently," I continued analyzing. "More importantly, the SEC has no authority to define what constitutes a 'real' marriage. As long as the procedure was legal, the motivation doesn't invalidate the marriage."
James visibly relaxed. "That... that's a great approach." He looked at Phillip. "I want her to handle my case."
Phillip nodded. "Good choice. This will be a good opportunity for Serena."
The drive back was quiet for a while.
"Thank you for giving me this chance," I said softly.
"Your analysis was spot on." His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "But are you sure you're ready to start taking cases so soon?"
I thought for a moment. "I'm ready. I'll work hard, and I'm confident I can do this."
"I always teach my staff to stay clear-headed under pressure," his tone carried a hint of concern. "As lawyers, we can't let emotions cloud our judgment."
His words touched something in me. "I'll remember that."
He pulled over to the curb. "The firm has a car service. You can use it whenever you need to handle cases."
"Then let me thank you properly," I said impulsively. "Lunch? My treat, at Eleven Madison Park."
He smiled. "Lead the way, counselor."