Chapter 2 — Meet Alex Carter

Alex Carter

The elevator ride stretched in tense silence, broken only by the faint hum of its ascent through Donovan Greene’s towering steel-and-glass skyscraper. Alex Carter adjusted the strap of his leather messenger bag, its scuffed edges and patched strap a small, grounding reassurance in a world of pristine finishes. His hazel eyes flicked to his reflection in the mirrored elevator wall: wavy brown hair resisting all attempts at taming, a shirt that bore telltale signs of rushed ironing, and a faint sheen of nervous energy in his expression. He tugged at his collar, the pressure of the moment tightening around him like a vice.

The messenger bag bumped against his hip, reminding him of its comforting weight. Inside, buried beneath legal pads and case briefs, was an old rejection letter from the clerkship he’d once dreamed of landing. He didn’t need to open it to see the words: *We regret to inform you…*. His father’s words echoed in his mind, steady and unwavering. *Every failure’s a step toward proving you belong where you’re headed, kid.* He inhaled deeply and muttered under his breath, “You’ve got this.” The words were shaky, more a plea than a promise.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal the 40th floor—a world of stark minimalism and unrelenting precision. Cool gray tones dominated the space, punctuated by the immaculate white of desks and the faint scent of polished wood and fresh coffee. The air hummed with authority, every detail screaming professionalism. Alex hesitated for a beat before stepping out, hyperaware of the contrast between his worn bag and the sleek briefcases glinting nearby. His sneakers, though polished, suddenly felt glaringly out of place against the polished floors.

“Mr. Carter?” A clipped voice jolted him from his thoughts. A young woman in a sharp black suit stood before him, holding a tablet with the efficiency of someone used to corralling rookies. Her gaze was as sharp as her outfit. “Follow me. Ms. Donovan is expecting you.”

Alex nodded, his heart tripping at the mention of Claire Donovan. He might not have officially started, but he’d done his homework. Rising star. Ruthlessly efficient. A strategist whose name was spoken in equal parts admiration and caution. And, if the rumors were true, someone who did not suffer fools lightly.

As they passed through a labyrinth of glass-walled offices, Alex’s eyes darted to the people they passed—associates bent over case files, partners conferring in low voices, the soft click of keyboards layering over faint conversations. His messenger bag felt impossibly conspicuous. He could feel the assistant’s heels tapping sharply against the floor as if to remind him of every step he took into this intimidating space.

The assistant stopped at a corner office and knocked briskly before opening the door without waiting for a response. “Ms. Donovan, this is Mr. Carter.”

The office, with its pristine symmetry, stood in stark contrast to the chaotic clutter of Alex’s world. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the sweeping Manhattan skyline, sunlight glinting off the reflective surfaces of sleek furniture and a chrome desk organizer. But Alex barely registered the view. His eyes were drawn immediately to Claire Donovan.

She rose from behind the desk, her tailored charcoal-gray suit perfectly uncreased, her auburn hair swept into a meticulous chignon. A single strand brushed her cheek, softening the otherwise razor-sharp lines of her appearance. With a deliberate click, she capped a sleek black fountain pen and set it neatly beside a stack of meticulously ordered documents. Her sharp blue eyes locked onto Alex, cool and assessing, as though she were evaluating him against some invisible metric.

“Mr. Carter,” she said, her voice smooth, measured, and devoid of unnecessary warmth. She extended her hand, her grip firm and practiced, the handshake over in an instant. “Thank you for joining my team on the Ridgemont case.”

Alex returned the handshake, willing his smile to seem confident rather than rehearsed. “Thank you, Ms. Donovan. I’m looking forward to contributing.” His tone sounded steadier than he felt, and he counted that as a small victory.

Claire motioned to the chair opposite her desk, and Alex sat quickly, placing his bag carefully at his feet. She didn’t sit immediately. Instead, she remained upright, her sharp gaze appraising him as though assessing whether his presence in this office was worth the time it had already taken.

“You’ve reviewed the Ridgemont files?” she asked, her tone brisk, her words clipped and efficient.

“Corporate fraud, embezzlement, offshore accounts,” Alex replied, trying to match her focus. “I’ve gone over the case materials provided so far and started making notes.”

The faintest arch of her brow hinted at acknowledgment. “Good. This case demands precision, discretion, and uncompromising attention to detail. I expect all members of my team to demonstrate those qualities without exception.”

“Yes, ma’am—” Alex began but cut himself off when her lips tightened almost imperceptibly. *Noted. Never ‘ma’am.’*

Claire moved around the desk, leaning against its edge. Her arms folded loosely, but her posture remained commanding. “Your résumé indicates a background in public interest law. Given that, I’m curious—why Donovan Greene?”

Alex hesitated, the weight of the question settling over him. He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his knees. “My dad was a public defender. Growing up, I watched him fight for people who had nowhere else to turn. That inspired me to go into law. But after law school…” He paused, searching for the right words. “I realized that understanding the systems that create failures is sometimes the only way to change them. And Donovan Greene is where I can learn those systems.”

For the briefest moment, something flickered in Claire’s expression—a trace of recognition, a hint of something guarded. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished behind her unreadable mask. “And you believe this firm is the right place to start?”

“I do,” Alex said, his voice firmer this time. “This firm has the resources and expertise to tackle high-stakes cases. I know I have a lot to learn, but I also think I can bring something valuable to the team.”

Claire’s gaze lingered, her sharp blue eyes weighing his words. Finally, she returned to her chair, folding her hands neatly on the desk. “Very well. For now, you’ll assist with document review and fact analysis. I expect thoroughness and efficiency. If you demonstrate potential, additional responsibilities will follow.”

“Understood.” Alex resisted the urge to exhale in relief.

Claire’s movements were deliberate as she picked up her fountain pen again. “One more thing, Mr. Carter. I expect every minute of my time to count. If you have questions, ask them clearly. If you have ideas, ensure they’re well-considered before bringing them to me. Do not waste time—yours or mine.”

Alex straightened, meeting her gaze with as much determination as he could muster. “I’ll make sure I live up to your expectations.”

Claire inclined her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Report to Daniel Fisher. He’s overseeing the preliminary discovery phase. He’ll provide your initial tasks.”

“Thank you, Ms. Donovan.” Alex rose, retrieving his bag. He hesitated for half a second before adding, “I won’t let you down.”

Claire didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she returned her attention to the documents on her desk, her focus already elsewhere. “Good day, Mr. Carter.”

Dismissed, Alex exited the office, closing the door softly behind him. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his thoughts replaying the interaction. Every word, every glance, every flicker of expression. Claire Donovan was exactly as intimidating as he’d expected, and yet… there had been something else. A curiosity. A test, perhaps.

The assistant’s directions led him to Daniel Fisher, who looked up from a cluttered desk as Alex approached. “You Carter?” the senior associate asked, his tone harried but not unkind.

“Yes,” Alex said quickly.

“Good. Here.” Daniel handed him a thick folder. “We’re sorting through discovery materials on Ridgemont. Find anything that looks even remotely off. I want notes by tomorrow morning.”

Alex nodded, taking the folder. “Got it.”

Daniel’s lips quirked in a faint smirk. “Welcome to the grind.”

Alex allowed himself a small, tight smile as he turned to leave. Thoughts of Claire lingered, her sharp presence still crackling in his mind like static electricity. She hadn’t dismissed him outright. In fact, she’d seemed… intrigued, even if she’d never admit it. That was enough for now.

Gripping the strap of his messenger bag, Alex stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the lower floors. “Alright, Carter,” he muttered as the doors closed. “Time to prove you belong here.”