Page 207 of The Rules
Victor didn't stand. Just extended his hand.
Ben took it. Firm. Dry. Brief.
His palm itched afterward, like he'd touched something contaminated.
Julian leaned in, his voice pitched for Ben's ears alone.
"You wanted to win, brother? Then stop pretending your hands aren't already dirty."
Ben didn't respond. Couldn't. Because Julian was right.
He scanned the room, cataloging faces with the precision that had made him formidable in court. The woman by the bar had buried environmental reports that showed her company's chemicals were causing birth defects. The man in the corner had orchestrated a hostile takeover that left three thousand people jobless. The couple near the window had manipulated drug trials, hiding side effects that later killed dozens.
These weren't criminals—not technically. They were executives. Philanthropists. Pillars of society.
And now, Ben stood among them. Not quite one of them, but close enough to taste the corruption in the air, feel it settling on his skin like fine ash.
???
Ben stood by the window of his office, arms crossed, gaze unfocused. The city below hummed like a living thing.
But he didn't hear it. Not really.
He was still in that room. Still tasting smoke and secrets.
Still feeling the residue of shaking hands he once would've refused to touch.
The memory clung to him—Victor's cold eyes, Julian's knowing smirk, the weight of compromise settling on his shoulders. He'd crossed a line. Not dramatically. Not with fanfare. Just a quiet step over a boundary he'd spent years defending.
Exhaled slowly, watching his breath fog the glass.
He spent a night on the other side. And now?
Something inside him felt... altered. Not shattered. Just shifted. Tilted. Colder. Sharper. Quieter.
The principles he'd built his career on—the belief that the law, when wielded correctly, could bring justice—seemed suddenly naïve. A child's understanding of a world built on power, not fairness.
Crawford had known this all along. Had operated within this reality while Ben played by rules that never truly applied.
Until now.
The knock was soft. He knew it was her before he turned.
Kath stepped in, slower than usual, eyes scanning him like she was searching for something beneath the surface.
She found it. Of course she did.
"You okay?" she asked gently, concern lacing her voice.
Ben didn't look at her right away. Didn't trust his face.
His voice came out even. Too even.
"Fine."
Kath doesn't buy it. She steps closer, not pushing, just... present. There's something softer in her today. Less armor.
More concern.
