Page 149 of The Rules
To Ben, it was a calling.
To Julian?
It was a fucking joke.
He remembered the way Julian had looked at him that summer—fresh suit, new badge, chasing courtrooms like they were cathedrals.
"You really think you're going to change the system?"
Julian had laughed, sharp and scathing. "Ben, the system was never built to be fair. It was built to protect power. You're not noble. You're just another cog."
Ben had tried to argue. Had thrown words like justice, ethics, responsibility.
Julian had just rolled his eyes and walked away.
Even back then—sixteen, seventeen—Julian had started bending rules. Skipping curfews. Cheating codes. Quiet, smart crimes that no one ever caught.
Ben remembered finding a teacher's answer key in Julian's backpack. When confronted, Julian hadn't denied it. He'd simply smiled, that knowing tilt of his lips that would become his signature in later years.
"It's not about the grades," Julian had said, leaning against the doorframe of Ben's room. "It's about understanding how the system works. What's allowed. What isn't. Where the boundaries blur."
He never got reckless. Never got caught.
But even then, Ben had known: Julian was practicing.
Not rebellion. Control.
Their father had been proud of Ben's straight-A record, his debate championships, his perfect attendance. Julian's achievements were different—the ability to talk his way out ofdetention, to convince teachers to extend deadlines, to make friends with exactly the right people at exactly the right time.
When Julian was eighteen, he disappeared for three days.
No explanation. No apology.
Ben remembered the quiet panic in the house. His mother's tense shoulders as she made calls. His father's controlled fury, masking worry.
When Julian came back, he had a new scar on his knuckles and a knowing smile.
And Ben had understood, without anyone saying it out loud—Julian was never going to walk the Sinclair path.
He didn't want to fight the system. He wanted toownit.
When Ben had gotten his first internship, their mother cried. When Julian had dropped out of pre-law and never looked back, she hadn't said a word.
Something in the family cracked that year. Subtle. Quiet.
But permanent.
They still talked, yes. Still saw each other at birthdays, holidays. Still wore the mask of brotherhood.
But it was never the same.
Ben's memory shifted to his second year as an associate.
A colleague—Thomas Reynolds—who had been caught in a mess that wasn't entirely his fault. A client had manipulated him, set him up to take the fall for documents that had been altered after he'd signed off on them.
The evidence looked damning. The senior partners were already distancing themselves. Thomas's career was effectively over before it had even begun.
He'd come to Ben's office after hours, eyes bloodshot, voice cracking. "I don't know what to do," he'd whispered. "They won't even let me explain. I have a kid. I can't lose this job."
