Chapter 8 — Witness to the Harper Circus
The next morning, Hayden chose violence in the gentlest way possible:
a coffee shop before sunrise.
Not because he loved coffee. Because coffee shops were neutral ground—no beach-house chaos, no Alan panic-sweat, no Charlie treating life like an improv set.
He'd barely sat down with his laptop when the bell over the door jingled and the universe delivered exactly what he didn't order.
Charlie Harper walked in.
Sunglasses. Casual confidence. The expression of a man who had never once apologized first in his entire life.
Hayden didn't look up. "No."
Charlie slid into the chair across from him anyway. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."
Hayden finally raised his eyes. "Why are you here?"
Charlie leaned back like he was on a talk show. "Because you ruined my party."
Hayden blinked once. "That wasn't a party. That was a liability."
Charlie sighed dramatically. "See? That tone. That's why I'm here."
Hayden went back to his screen. "You're here because you're bored."
Charlie smirked. "Okay, Harvard—sometimes I'm bored too."
Hayden's pen paused.
That was… new.
Not the words. The honesty.
Charlie glanced around, lowering his voice like he thought someone might arrest him for sincerity.
"Look," he said, "Alan's been… weirdly stable."
Hayden didn't react. "That's called 'not being actively dismantled.' It's a nice feeling."
Charlie nodded, then cleared his throat. "And you said something last night."
Hayden's gaze lifted again. "Which part? I said a lot of things."
Charlie's jaw tightened—pride fighting reality. "The part where you said you're not cleaning up after me anymore."
Hayden watched him for a beat. Then, calm and direct:
"Yeah."
Charlie exhaled slowly, like that sentence had been stuck in his chest all night.
"I don't like it," Charlie admitted.
Hayden's mouth twitched. "You don't like consequences."
Charlie nodded. "True."
Then he looked at Hayden, surprisingly serious.
"But I also don't want Judith using my house like a weapon against Alan."
Hayden held his gaze. No jokes. No jabs.
"That," Hayden said quietly, "is the first responsible thing you've said in… maybe ever."
Charlie scoffed, but it wasn't defensive. More like he was embarrassed to be caught being decent.
"Don't get used to it," Charlie muttered.
Hayden nodded. "I won't."
Charlie took a sip of coffee and made a face. "This tastes like burnt regret."
Hayden shrugged. "It suits you."
Charlie smirked, then leaned forward. "So tell me what happens next with the Judith thing."
Hayden didn't mind explaining—because this wasn't Charlie trying to be entertained. This was Charlie trying to understand the game.
And that mattered.
"We wait," Hayden said. "Her lawyer will either accept the structured alternative or reject it and escalate."
Charlie frowned. "And if she escalates?"
Hayden's voice stayed even. "Then she has to stand in front of a judge and explain why she's trying to rewrite definitions to punish Alan. Judges don't love punishment disguised as fairness."
Charlie nodded slowly. "So you set a trap."
Hayden corrected him immediately. "I set a fork. She chooses the path that makes her look worst."
Charlie stared like he was watching someone turn legal theory into a magic trick.
"Okay," Charlie said quietly. "That's… actually impressive."
Hayden's expression didn't soften. "It's not impressive. It's basic. Alan's just never had anyone stop him from panicking long enough to do it."
Charlie winced. "Ouch."
Hayden didn't let him dodge it. "You helped that panic, by the way."
Charlie opened his mouth—
Hayden raised a hand. "I'm not blaming you. I'm informing you. Big difference."
Charlie sat back, absorbing that.
Then—because Charlie couldn't live in sincerity too long—he tried to pull the wheel back into humor.
"So," Charlie said, grin returning, "if Judith keeps pushing, can we countersue her for being… Judith?"
Hayden deadpanned. "Tempting. Not actionable."
Charlie sighed. "The legal system is flawed."
Hayden nodded. "Welcome."
---
A few tables away, a woman in a power suit was sitting with a coffee that probably cost more than Charlie's first guitar.
She hadn't looked over once.
But Hayden knew she was listening.
Because the room had changed the moment she walked in.
Donna called it "weather."
Hayden called it "power."
Jessica Pearson.
She was angled slightly away, laptop open, posture relaxed—but her attention was the kind that didn't need eye contact to cut you open.
Charlie, of course, had no idea.
He lowered his voice. "So why does Pearson Hardman want you so bad? You're like… young."
Hayden's eyes flicked once—subtle—toward Jessica's table.
Then back.
"They don't want me," he said. "They want what I do."
Charlie nodded like that made sense, then smirked. "That's what I tell women."
Hayden didn't even blink. "And that's why your house needed rules."
Charlie laughed quietly, then leaned in again. "Okay, real question—how do you not get bored?"
Hayden paused.
This was the heart of it.
The flaw he'd been trying to reshape.
"I do get bored," Hayden said calmly. "I just don't let boredom drive."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Drive what?"
Hayden's gaze sharpened. "My decisions."
Charlie stared at him for a long beat, then nodded once, almost respectful.
"Controlled chaos," Charlie said, testing the phrase like it belonged to someone else.
Hayden didn't smile, but the approval was there in his eyes.
"Exactly," he said. "Hard cases get creativity. Easy cases get discipline. Reputation gets protected."
Charlie whistled softly. "That's… annoyingly mature."
Hayden nodded. "I try."
Charlie stood, pushing his chair back. "Alright. I'll stay out of Alan's way."
Hayden lifted an eyebrow. "That's all I wanted."
Charlie smirked. "No, that's what you said. What you wanted was to win the argument."
Hayden's mouth twitched. "Also true."
Charlie started to walk away, then paused and glanced back.
"Hey," Charlie said, quieter, "good job."
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't emotional.
But in Harper-language, it was a confession.
Hayden nodded once. "Don't make it weird."
Charlie grinned. "Too late."
He left.
And the moment the bell jingled behind him, Hayden felt it:
Jessica's attention move from "ambient" to "focused."
A shadow fell across Hayden's table.
Donna Paulsen stood there, smiling like she'd just watched something interesting happen.
"Jessica saw that," Donna said brightly.
Hayden didn't look up. "I assumed."
Donna leaned in, voice lower. "She liked it."
Hayden finally looked at her. "Why?"
Donna's smile sharpened. "Because you handled a difficult personality without ego, without losing control, and without turning it into a scene."
Hayden nodded once. "That was the goal."
Donna tapped the table lightly. "Come on. She wants you."
Hayden stood, adjusted his cuffs, and followed Donna toward the exit.
As they walked past Jessica's table, Jessica didn't look up right away.
She let Hayden approach her office like a reminder: you don't enter my orbit unless I allow it.
Then, just as he passed, she spoke—calm, exact:
"Mr. Harper."
Hayden stopped. "Jessica."
Jessica finally looked up, eyes sharp.
"You managed that," she said.
Hayden didn't pretend not to understand. "Yes."
Jessica's gaze held him for a beat. "Good. Because I'm about to give you a client who makes Charlie Harper look easy."
Donna's grin widened like Christmas came early.
Hayden's pulse didn't jump—his focus did.
Jessica stood. "Walk with me."
Hayden followed.
And somewhere deep in his brain, the old boredom tried to stir—curious, hungry.
Hayden kept it leashed.
Because whatever Jessica Pearson was about to throw at him…
It wasn't going to be a simple case.
Jessica Pearson didn't "walk."
Jessica Pearson moved—like the hallway had signed an agreement to stay out of her way.
Hayden followed beside her with Donna trailing half a step behind, looking delighted in the way only Donna could look delighted when she knew someone was about to have a bad day.
"So," Hayden said, calm, "you were listening."
Jessica didn't glance at him. "I was observing."
Donna smiled. "She was absolutely listening."
Jessica shot Donna a look that could've cut glass.
Donna's smile didn't change. "What? I support healthy eavesdropping."
They entered Jessica's office. Jessica didn't sit. She never sat when she was about to drop something heavy.
She picked up a file from her desk and slid it across to Hayden like she was sliding him a weapon.
"This client," she said, "is famous."
Hayden opened it and scanned the header:
Sunset Network Studios — Talent Contract Dispute
Donna leaned against the wall, arms crossed, enjoying herself far too much.
Jessica continued. "They're threatening litigation, injunctions, the whole circus. They want us because they think we can make it quiet."
Hayden flipped a page. He saw the name in bold.
Melissa Benoist
His eyes didn't widen. His face didn't change. But the air inside his chest went a fraction more alert.
Jessica noticed anyway. Of course she did.
"You know the name," Jessica said.
Hayden kept it honest and measured. "I know the industry."
Donna grinned. "He's lying. He knows the face."
Hayden didn't even blink. "Donna."
Jessica's mouth twitched—almost amused, but she crushed it back into professionalism.
"Melissa's contract is messy," Jessica said. "Sunset says she's in breach. Melissa says they're exploiting her, changing terms, and burying her in amendments she never properly agreed to."
Hayden's gaze flicked across the document. "So it's not a legal fight. It's a leverage fight."
Jessica nodded once. "Good. Now here's the part that makes her difficult."
Donna chimed in brightly: "She's not scared."
Jessica's eyes stayed on Hayden. "She's not impressed by titles, she doesn't flinch at threats, and she refuses to be managed by men who think charm equals control."
Hayden exhaled once. "So she's… sane."
Jessica's brow lifted. "Exactly."
Donna pointed at Hayden like she was presenting him on a game show. "And you're going to love her."
Hayden didn't take the bait. He turned another page, reading what mattered: the contract language, the amendment dates, who signed what, and—more importantly—what was missing.
A familiar feeling crawled up his spine.
A missing shape again.
Not the same one as Mike.
A different kind.
"Where's the signature page for Amendment Three?" Hayden asked.
Jessica's gaze sharpened. "Good. You saw it."
Donna's grin widened. "Oooh. That was fast."
Jessica spoke like a judge delivering a ruling. "Melissa says she never signed Amendment Three. Sunset claims she did. If she didn't, half the 'breach' disappears."
Hayden nodded once. "So we verify authenticity and we control the narrative."
Jessica stepped closer, voice lower. "And we do it without making her feel like she's being handled."
Hayden met her eyes. "Understood."
Donna clapped softly once. "This is going to be fun."
Jessica didn't look at Donna. "Donna, schedule the meeting. Now."
Donna smiled. "Already did."
Of course she did.
Jessica looked back to Hayden. "She's here in twenty minutes."
Hayden glanced down at the file, then up. "You're giving her to me."
Jessica's eyes held steady. "I'm giving her to us. You're lead on the contract anatomy. Maya will support. I'll be in the room. You will not get cute."
Hayden nodded. "I won't."
Jessica's gaze narrowed. "And if you get bored—"
"I won't," Hayden repeated, calm, firm.
Jessica studied him like she was checking the safety on a loaded firearm.
Then she gave one nod. "Good. Because this isn't a game. This client can destroy reputations with one interview."
Donna smiled brightly. "No pressure!"
---
Twenty minutes later, the bullpen felt like it leaned forward.
Not because everyone cared about contract law.
Because famous people had gravity. They warped attention. They made junior associates forget they had work and remember they had eyes.
Donna appeared at Hayden's desk. "Conference Room A."
Hayden stood and followed.
Conference Room A was the "nice" room. The one with better lighting and fewer visible power plays. Jessica always chose rooms with intent.
Inside, Maya was already there with a legal pad. Jessica stood at the head of the table like she'd been built for hostile negotiations.
Then the door opened.
Melissa Benoist walked in with a quiet confidence that didn't beg for attention—it assumed it. She wasn't dressed like a diva. She was dressed like someone who understood that being underestimated was a weapon.
She shook Jessica's hand first.
"Ms. Pearson," Melissa said.
Jessica nodded. "Melissa."
Then Melissa turned to Hayden.
Her eyes flicked to his suit, his posture, the calm. The complete lack of "fan energy."
She extended her hand. "And you are?"
Hayden shook it once—firm, respectful. "Hayden Harper."
Melissa tilted her head slightly. "Harper."
It wasn't flirty.
It was noting a name.
"Sit," Jessica said.
Everyone did.
Jessica didn't waste time. "Tell us what you want."
Melissa leaned back slightly, hands folded. "I want out."
Maya's pen paused.
Jessica didn't blink. "Contracts don't care what you want."
Melissa's smile was faint. "That's why I'm here."
Hayden watched Melissa's face as she spoke. She was angry—controlled. Focused. Not emotional in a way that made her sloppy. Emotional in a way that made her dangerous.
"They keep changing my schedule," Melissa said. "They keep adding publicity obligations. They keep tacking on 'creative morality clauses' like I'm some kind of brand they can punish if I say the wrong thing."
Jessica's gaze stayed sharp. "And the breach?"
Melissa exhaled once. "They say I breached because I turned down a late-night shoot they added with forty-eight hours' notice. I said no because I had another job. A signed job. They told me it didn't matter."
Hayden flipped to the amendments section. "Amendment Three is the one that gives them scheduling authority beyond your original terms."
Melissa's eyes snapped to him—impressed despite herself. "Yes."
Hayden kept his tone neutral. "You didn't sign it?"
Melissa's jaw tightened. "No."
Jessica leaned forward. "Do you have proof you didn't?"
Melissa's eyes narrowed. "How do you prove you didn't sign something?"
Hayden answered calmly, like it was math. "By proving their copy can't be authenticated."
Melissa watched him, measuring. "Okay. Explain that."
Hayden didn't posture. He didn't go full Harvard. He translated.
"We request the original," he said. "We request metadata. We request chain of custody. We request who witnessed it, who delivered it, who stored it. If it's real, it has a footprint. If it's fabricated, it has a story—and stories crack under specifics."
Melissa's expression didn't soften, but something in her eyes shifted.
Respect.
Not emotional respect. Professional respect. The kind you give someone who isn't trying to own you.
Jessica nodded once. "Good."
Melissa looked to Jessica. "So you can get me out."
Jessica's voice was flat. "We can get you leverage. Getting out depends on whether Sunset wants a war or a quiet settlement."
Melissa leaned forward, eyes hard. "They want control."
Hayden spoke before Jessica could, calm and exact.
"Then we make control expensive," he said.
Melissa's gaze locked onto him again. "How?"
Hayden flipped the file and slid one page forward—the timeline summary.
"We don't threaten," he said. "We forecast. We show them that if they push this, discovery becomes public. Their contract practices become public. Their amendment process becomes public. If they're clean, they'll welcome it. If they're dirty, they'll settle."
Melissa stared. "You think they're dirty."
Hayden didn't say yes. He said something better.
"I think they're acting like people who don't want sunlight," he replied.
Jessica watched Hayden for a beat, then spoke—controlled, measured.
"We need to know what you're willing to trade," she said. "Money? Credit? Confidentiality?"
Melissa didn't hesitate. "Confidentiality is the leash they keep trying to put on me."
Jessica's eyes narrowed. "And yet, confidentiality is also the fastest way to make this end."
Melissa's smile was cold. "Then maybe I don't want it to end fast. Maybe I want it to end right."
Donna would've loved that line if she'd been in the room. It was dramatic. Clean. Dangerous.
Hayden didn't get swept up in it. He treated it like fuel.
"Ending right," Hayden said calmly, "doesn't mean ending loud. It means ending with the leverage in your hands."
Melissa's eyes stayed on him. "You talk like you've done this before."
Hayden's mouth twitched. "I've done negotiations. Different arenas."
Melissa leaned back. "You're not like the other lawyers I've met."
Hayden didn't smile. "That's intentional."
Jessica cut in smoothly. "We'll draft a response by end of day. We'll demand the original signature pages and the amendment chain. If they refuse, we escalate. If they comply and it's false, we burn them cleanly."
Melissa studied Jessica. "And if it's real?"
Jessica didn't lie. "Then you're in a harder fight."
Melissa's eyes flicked to Hayden again. "And if it's real?"
Hayden answered before Jessica, voice steady. "Then we shift from invalidating it to limiting its reach. We attack interpretation. We attack unreasonable scheduling. We build a record that they're abusing discretion. Contracts don't give people the right to be abusive."
Melissa stared at him, then nodded once.
"Okay," she said. "I can work with that."
Jessica stood. "Good. Donna will coordinate next steps."
Melissa stood too, and for the first time her guard dropped by half a degree—not trust, but readiness.
As she gathered her bag, she looked at Hayden again.
"Harper," she said, like the name mattered now. "Are you always this… calm?"
Hayden didn't dodge. "No."
Melissa's brow lifted. "No?"
Hayden's voice stayed even. "I choose when to be."
That earned him a small, real smile—quick, almost reluctant.
"Good," she said. "Because I don't need someone panicking for me."
Hayden nodded once. "You won't get that here."
Melissa walked out.
The door shut.
Maya exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for the entire meeting.
Jessica didn't exhale at all. Jessica just turned to Hayden.
"Good job," she said.
Two words again.
Huge.
Hayden nodded. "Thank you."
Jessica's eyes narrowed. "Don't thank me. Draft."
Maya gathered her notes quickly. "I'll start the request list."
Jessica looked at Hayden. "And Harper?"
"Yes."
Her voice sharpened slightly, warning wrapped in approval.
"She liked you," Jessica said.
Hayden's expression didn't change. "She respected the work."
Jessica held his gaze. "Same thing, in her world."
Then she walked out like the meeting was already filed in her mind as "handled."
Maya stared after her, then looked at Hayden, half-amused.
"So… you're just collecting powerful women now?"
Hayden blinked once. "I'm collecting cases."
Maya smirked. "Sure."
---
Back at his desk, Hayden opened a blank doc and started drafting.
Demand for originals. Demand for authentication. Chain of custody. Deposition notices. Narrow but sharp.
He was halfway through when a shadow fell across his workspace.
Louis Litt stood there, holding a coffee like it was a moral judgment.
Louis smiled too pleasantly.
"Harper," Louis said, "I heard you had a celebrity client."
Hayden didn't look up. "You heard wrong."
Louis's smile tightened. "Don't play games."
Hayden finally met his eyes—calm, polite.
"I'm not," Hayden said. "You are."
Louis leaned in slightly. "Just remember—you're new. Don't get distracted by fame. It makes associates sloppy."
Hayden's tone stayed steady. "I don't get distracted."
Louis stared at him for a beat, then smiled again—thin.
"We'll see," Louis said, and walked away.
Hayden watched him go, then returned to his draft.
And as his fingers moved across the keyboard, one thought stayed perfectly still in the back of his mind:
Louis was circling again.
Not because of Melissa.
Because Louis had smelled a new line of leverage.
And in Pearson Hardman West, leverage didn't stay dormant.
It hunted.