Chapter Text
Harvey Specter’s office sat high above Manhattan, all glass and clean lines, the city stretching endlessly behind him. From up here, everything looked smaller—manageable.
Until it wasn’t.
A thick legal file hit the table in front of his desk, sharp enough to cut through that illusion. Harvey didn’t look up right away. He finished signing the document in front of him with steady precision, the pen gliding across the paper as if interruptions only existed if he allowed them to. When the ink dried, he set it down deliberately and leaned back slightly in his chair.
Only then did he reach for the file.
Across from him, Mike Ross was already flipping through it—fast, too fast—his focus sharpening with every page.
“This is bad.”
Harvey glanced up, unimpressed. “If it was good, it wouldn’t be here.”
Mike didn’t slow down. “This isn’t just a lawsuit. It’s a full prosecution package—bribery, fraud, money laundering. It goes back years.”
Harvey took the file from him without a word and scanned the first page. Then he stopped—not for long, just enough. His eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly.
“Tell me this is a joke.”
“I wish it was.”
Harvey let the file drop onto his desk, the sound controlled but final. “Our client’s been with this firm for fifteen years. If he was dirty, I’d know.”
Mike looked up. “Or he’s better at hiding it than you are at finding it.”
That earned him a look—sharp enough to end most conversations.
“No one’s that good.”
Mike didn’t flinch. “You are.”
A flicker of a smirk crossed Harvey’s face, gone just as quickly.
Before either of them could push it further, the door opened and Jessica Pearson stepped inside like she owned the room—which, in a way, she did.
“I just got off the phone with our client,” she said, moving toward the desk. “He sounded like a man who just realized his life might be over.”
She extended her hand slightly. “Tell me why.”
Harvey slid the file toward her.
Jessica opened it and began reading. She didn’t rush. She didn’t react. Which somehow made the room feel tighter.
“Bribery. Racketeering. Conspiracy.” She looked up. “This isn’t a case. It’s an execution.”
Mike leaned forward. “It’s detailed. Financial trails, shell companies, internal emails… whoever built this took their time.”
Jessica’s gaze dropped back to the first page—and stilled, just for a fraction longer than before.
“District Attorney… Alexandra Hayes.”
Harvey didn’t react immediately. Not visibly. But his fingers tapped once against the desk before going still.
“Give me one reason I should care.”
Jessica closed the file with measured calm. “You will.”
A beat.
Mike stepped in. “She just took office. Youngest District Attorney in Manhattan history.”
That was enough.
Harvey was already on his feet, reaching for his jacket. “Then she just made the worst mistake of her career.”
“Harvey.”
Jessica didn’t raise her voice, but he stopped anyway.
“She’s been reopening old cases,” she continued. “Cleaning house. Rebuilding trust.”
Mike frowned. “So if she filed this… she believes it’s real.”
A brief pause settled over the room.
Harvey’s jaw shifted—not irritation, something sharper. Interest.
“Good.”
He slipped on his jacket, adjusting his cuffs with automatic precision as he moved toward the door.
“I was starting to miss a challenge.”
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “If she built this herself… I want to see how far she thinks it goes.”
And just like that, he was already moving—gone before either of them could respond.
Mike watched the door for a second, then exhaled. “He’s going to underestimate her.”
Jessica didn’t look up immediately. Her gaze rested on the name at the top of the file.
Alexandra Hayes.
Her expression didn’t change.
“No,” she said quietly.
“He won’t.”