Chapter 9 : Sunshine Is a Legal Tactic
By Wednesday, Pearson Hardman West didn't feel like a jungle.
It felt like a zoo—and every animal had a suit.
Hayden walked in at 7:21 AM and immediately caught the vibe: people weren't just busy today… they were whisper-busy. The kind where everyone knows something is happening, but nobody wants to be the first one dumb enough to say it out loud.
Donna intercepted him before he could even reach his desk.
"Don't sit," she said.
Hayden didn't stop walking. "Good morning to you too."
Donna matched his pace like a professional shadow. "Sunset Network called. Twice. Their general counsel is 'concerned' and their PR person is 'confused' which means she's panicking but wants to pretend it's a branding choice."
Hayden nodded once. "So they're feeling the sunlight."
Donna smiled. "Sunlight makes roaches emotional."
Hayden's mouth twitched. "Poetic."
Donna lifted a folder. "Jessica wants you in her office. Now."
Hayden took it. "And Louis?"
Donna's smile got sharper. "Louis is already furious, and it's not even eight. We're off to a great start."
---
Jessica's office was colder today.
Not in temperature—Jessica didn't do temperature. She did pressure.
She stood by the window again, phone in hand, as if she'd personally arranged the skyline to make a point.
"Mr. Harper," she said without looking up, "tell me what Sunset is going to do next."
Hayden didn't pretend it was a mystery. "They'll deny, delay, and discredit. Then they'll threaten."
Jessica finally turned, eyes sharp. "Threaten what?"
Hayden's voice stayed level. "Money. Time. Access. Reputation."
Jessica nodded. "Good. And what do we do?"
Hayden's answer came clean. "We don't flinch."
Jessica slid a printed email chain across her desk.
Hayden read the first line and felt the tone immediately: corporate "polite," the kind that tried to sound reasonable while holding a knife behind its back.
SUNSET GC: We find your demands excessive and your client's position untenable. We will pursue all remedies available.
Hayden's eyes flicked to the attachment list.
Then he saw it.
A PDF labeled:
AMENDMENT THREE — EXECUTED
His body didn't react.
His mind did.
Jessica watched him read. "Well?"
Hayden looked up. "They produced it."
Jessica's gaze tightened. "And?"
Hayden held the same calm he used in court. "Now we verify whether it's real, and if it is, we box it in."
Jessica nodded once—approval, but cautious. "Maya?"
Maya stepped in from the side like she'd been waiting to be summoned. "I'm ready. Metadata request drafted."
Jessica's eyes returned to Hayden. "You have one job: keep Melissa from doing anything emotional in public."
Hayden didn't blink. "Understood."
Jessica stepped closer, voice lower. "She respects you."
Hayden corrected her immediately. "She respects the work."
Jessica's eyes narrowed like she enjoyed the argument. "Same thing, Harper."
Donna drifted in behind them, grinning like she lived for this.
"She's here," Donna said.
Hayden's attention sharpened. "Melissa?"
Donna nodded. "In the lobby. And she looks… focused."
Focused was good.
Focused meant controlled.
Focused meant she wasn't about to do something that would make TMZ rich.
Jessica gestured once. "Bring her up."
---
Conference Room A again.
Same chairs, same view, same unspoken rule: don't waste time.
Melissa Benoist walked in like she owned the air, not in a diva way—more in a "try me and find out" way. She had sunglasses perched on her head, a coffee in hand, and the expression of a woman who'd already read the email and decided she hated it.
She didn't sit right away.
She looked at Jessica. "They sent it."
Jessica nodded. "They sent something."
Melissa's eyes flicked to Hayden. "Is it real?"
Hayden didn't answer emotionally. He answered tactically.
"We treat it as real until we prove it's not," he said. "Because acting like it's fake without proof is how you lose credibility."
Melissa's jaw tightened. "I didn't sign it."
Hayden met her eyes—steady. "Then we prove that."
Jessica sat, folded her hands. "Melissa, you need to understand something: if Sunset forged your signature, they're not just dirty. They're suicidal."
Melissa's laugh was short and humorless. "Studios do stupid things when they're scared."
Hayden nodded once. "Which is why we don't give them a panic window."
He slid a one-page plan across the table—clean, structured.
1) Chain-of-custody demand
2) Metadata + origin request
3) Notice of intent to seek sanctions if authenticity fails
4) Quiet settlement fork
Melissa skimmed it fast, then looked up. "What's the fork?"
Hayden's voice stayed even. "Option A: they cooperate, we keep it quiet, you exit clean. Option B: they fight, discovery opens their filing cabinets, and the court finds out how they treat talent."
Melissa's eyes stayed on him. "And if they want to fight?"
Jessica answered, crisp. "Then we make the fight expensive in public ways."
Melissa's gaze flicked back to Hayden. "Public ways."
Hayden kept his tone calm, but it carried steel. "Not interviews. Not social media. Not 'statements.' Public ways means filings. Hearings. Judges. Documents. Things that can't be spin-doctored."
Melissa's shoulders dropped slightly—not relaxed, but grounded.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not trying to be a headline. I'm trying to be free."
Hayden nodded. "Then stay disciplined."
Melissa held his gaze for a beat—long enough to feel like she was deciding whether he was safe.
Then she gave a small nod. "Okay."
Jessica stood, signaling the meeting was done. "Donna will coordinate. Harper, Maya—draft the demands and get them out today."
Melissa started to leave, then paused at the door and looked back at Hayden.
"Harper."
"Yes?"
Her eyes were direct. "If they did forge it… I want consequences."
Hayden didn't sugarcoat it. "You'll get them."
Melissa's expression didn't soften. "Good."
Then she left.
The door shut.
Maya exhaled like she'd just watched a missile decide not to launch. "That went… better than expected."
Jessica's eyes stayed on Hayden. "Because he kept her controlled."
Hayden nodded once. "That was the point."
Donna smiled brightly. "He's becoming one of us."
Hayden muttered, "That's a horrible thing to say."
Donna replied instantly, "I know."
---
Back in the bullpen, Hayden sat down and opened the "executed" Amendment Three. He stared at the signature line.
It looked like her signature.
That was the problem.
Fakes weren't scary when they were sloppy.
They were scary when they were good.
He started listing verification steps like a man building a trap out of paper:
original document demand
scan source
file metadata
who delivered it
who witnessed it
how it was stored
whether it exists in multiple versions
whether any signature block aligns with other known signed docs
Maya leaned over his shoulder. "You think it's forged?"
Hayden didn't commit yet. "I think it's suspicious."
Maya nodded. "That's the most lawyer answer I've ever heard."
Hayden's mouth twitched. "Thank you."
A shadow fell across his desk.
Louis Litt.
Holding a coffee like it was moral superiority in a cup.
"Well," Louis said pleasantly, "I hear you're playing with celebrities."
Hayden didn't look up. "I hear you're playing with everyone."
Louis's smile tightened. "Careful."
Hayden finally met his eyes—calm, polite. "Louis, you don't scare me. You just annoy me."
Maya made a quiet choking sound into her sleeve.
Louis leaned in slightly. "Jessica is putting you on very visible work. That can make a young associate… reckless."
Hayden's tone stayed even. "I'm not reckless. I'm disciplined."
Louis's eyes narrowed. "Good. Then you won't mind if I review your drafts before they go out."
That was the hook.
Hayden saw the fallout instantly: Louis "reviewing" was Louis owning.
He smiled faintly. "No."
Louis blinked. "No?"
Hayden kept it calm. "Jessica gets the draft. Maya gets the draft. Donna gets logistics. You get nothing."
Louis's jaw tightened. "You're getting very comfortable here."
Hayden nodded once. "That's because I'm producing."
Louis stared at him for a beat, then smiled again—thin.
"This firm has a way of humbling people," Louis said.
Hayden returned the smile—smaller, colder. "So do documents."
Louis walked away, and Maya exhaled slowly like she'd been holding her breath the entire exchange.
"You're going to give him a heart attack," she muttered.
Hayden didn't look away from the amendment. "He'll bill the firm for it."
---
That night at the beach house, Alan was in the kitchen reading an email like it was a bomb.
Charlie lounged nearby, trying to look casual and failing.
Jake was eating cereal at 9 PM because nobody in this house respected structure unless Hayden forced it.
Alan looked up, eyes wide. "Judith's lawyer accepted your proposal."
Hayden paused mid-sip of water. "Accepted?"
Alan nodded, stunned. "He accepted. He wants to sign it tomorrow."
Charlie blinked. "Wait… we won?"
Hayden's expression stayed calm. "We didn't lose."
Charlie's mouth opened, then he grinned. "Same thing."
Alan looked at Hayden like he'd just witnessed a miracle. "How did you do that?"
Hayden didn't gloat. He didn't celebrate. He just said the truth:
"Because I stopped you from panicking long enough for her to realize court wouldn't go her way."
Alan swallowed. "So… I'm safe?"
Hayden's eyes sharpened slightly. "For now. Don't get cocky."
Charlie smirked. "He's allergic to joy."
Hayden looked at him. "I'm allergic to temporary wins being treated like permanent safety."
Jake raised his spoon. "Does safe mean pizza?"
Alan and Charlie answered at the same time:
"Yes."
Hayden sighed. "Fine. Pizza."
And for once, the Harper house got to celebrate without chaos.
Which, honestly, felt unnatural.
---
Later, when the house quieted, Hayden's phone buzzed.
A new text.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: They're lying. I need to talk. Not in the office.
Hayden stared at it.
No name.
But he knew.
Because the tone was different than Sunset's corporate knives.
This was sharp, personal, and controlled—like someone fighting to stay calm.
Melissa.
Hayden didn't answer right away.
Controlled chaos meant planning the fallout before you moved.
He typed one line:
HAYDEN: Name a public place. Daytime. Fifteen minutes. No drama.
A second later:
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Coffee shop. Near the studio. Tomorrow. 12:30.
Hayden exhaled once and pocketed the phone.
Tomorrow wasn't just contract law anymore.
Tomorrow was sunlight.
And sunlight had a way of revealing things people swore were hidden.
The next day at 12:27 PM, Hayden Harper was already seated at the coffee shop near the studio.
Same rules as always:
public place
daytime
controlled window
no drama
Because fame didn't change human nature. It just made mistakes louder.
He picked a table with three advantages:
1. back to a wall,
2. clear view of the door,
3. close enough to leave fast without looking like he's fleeing.
He didn't order anything complicated. Just coffee. Plain.
Hollywood coffee tasted like it had been through therapy and still didn't trust you.
At 12:31, Melissa Benoist walked in.
No sunglasses today. Hair tied back. Hoodie. The kind of outfit that screamed "I'm trying not to be recognized," but somehow made her more recognizable.
She spotted Hayden immediately and approached with that same calm fire in her eyes—focused, not fragile.
Hayden stood when she reached the table. Not for show. For respect.
"Melissa," he said.
"Harper," she replied, and slid into the seat across from him.
She didn't do small talk.
Of course she didn't.
"They're lying," she said.
Hayden didn't flinch. "I assumed."
Melissa leaned forward slightly, voice low. "They're claiming the amendment was signed in a meeting I never attended."
Hayden's eyes sharpened. "They put a date on it?"
Melissa nodded. "They put a location. They even named the assistant who 'witnessed' it."
Hayden didn't look surprised. He looked… annoyed.
Because this wasn't sloppy corporate bullying anymore.
This was fabrication with structure.
"Do you have anything that disproves the meeting?" Hayden asked.
Melissa hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
She pulled out her phone and slid it across the table.
A calendar entry. Timestamped. Verified. Not a screenshot—an actual export.
A filming schedule. Same day. Different city.
Hayden studied it, then handed the phone back.
"That helps," he said.
Melissa's jaw tightened. "Helps? It proves it."
Hayden kept his tone even. "It proves you weren't where they claim you were. It doesn't prove they forged the signature—yet."
Melissa's eyes flashed. "So what, we just keep playing their game?"
Hayden leaned in slightly, not aggressive—anchoring.
"We don't play their game," he said. "We change the board."
Melissa stared at him. "How."
Hayden's voice stayed calm, but it carried weight.
"We demand their witness," he said. "The assistant. Under oath."
Melissa's eyes widened slightly. "That'll take time."
Hayden nodded. "And time is exactly what they're using to tire you out. So we take time away from them."
He tapped the table once—light, precise.
"We file a motion for expedited discovery limited to authentication," Hayden said. "Chain of custody. Who scanned it. Who stored it. Who touched it. If it's real, they'll welcome that. If it's fake, they'll try to stall."
Melissa's mouth curled into a humorless smile. "They'll stall."
"Good," Hayden said. "Stalling is behavior. Judges notice behavior."
Melissa studied him for a long beat.
"You're not scared of them," she said.
Hayden didn't dodge.
"I'm scared of the wrong things," he replied. "I'm scared of you doing something impulsive that gives them a headline instead of a consequence."
Melissa exhaled slowly, like she hated that he was right.
"I wasn't going to go public," she said.
Hayden's gaze stayed steady. "I believe you. I still plan for the version of reality where you wake up angry at 2 AM and decide Instagram needs truth."
Melissa's lips twitched. "That's… fair."
Hayden nodded once. "That's why I'm here."
For a moment, Melissa's expression softened—not into romance, not into vulnerability—into something rarer:
trust in competence.
"Okay," she said. "So what do you need from me."
Hayden slid a short list across the table—already typed, because of course it was.
travel receipts / call sheets for the alleged meeting date
any emails referencing amendments around that week
a copy of her known signature samples (contracts, NDAs, anything official)
names of her agent/manager who can verify her schedule
Melissa scanned it, then looked up.
"You're fast," she said.
Hayden's mouth twitched. "I'm bored-proof when it matters."
Melissa actually smiled at that—small, real, gone quickly.
Then her expression tightened again.
"One more thing," she said. "There's something else."
Hayden didn't rush her. He waited.
Melissa lowered her voice. "They hinted… if I keep pushing, they'll 'leak' things. About me. About my relationships. About my 'behavior.'"
Hayden's eyes hardened. Not angry—cold.
"That's retaliation," he said.
Melissa nodded. "They didn't say it directly. They implied."
Hayden leaned back slightly.
"Good," he said.
Melissa blinked. "Good?"
"Good," Hayden repeated, calm as a verdict. "Because threats like that don't play well in court. And they're never as subtle as the people making them think."
Melissa stared at him. "You can use it."
Hayden nodded. "If you can document it. Even indirectly."
Melissa's jaw tightened. "I'll find something."
Hayden checked his watch—12:44.
"We have one minute left," he said.
Melissa blinked. "One minute?"
"You said you needed to talk. You did," Hayden said. "Now we go back to the office and we do this clean."
Melissa held his gaze. "Thank you."
Hayden didn't smile. He didn't flirt. He didn't turn it into anything messy.
He just nodded once.
"Stay disciplined," he said. "I'll handle the pressure."
Melissa stood. "And Harper?"
"Yes."
Her eyes were direct. "If they forged it… I don't want a settlement."
Hayden's expression stayed calm, but his voice sharpened a fraction.
"If they forged it," he said, "they won't be offered mercy."
Melissa nodded once—satisfied—and walked out.
Hayden didn't watch her leave like a guy in a movie.
He watched her leave like a lawyer watching risk walk away.
And then—because the universe liked timing—someone sat down at the table beside his.
A familiar presence. Clean suit. Controlled power.
Jessica Pearson.
Hayden didn't react outwardly. But internally, he sighed.
Of course.
Jessica didn't look at him at first. She stirred her coffee like she had all day.
Then she said, casually:
"You're meeting clients off-site now."
Hayden turned his head slightly. "Public place. Daytime. Fifteen minutes."
Jessica's eyes flicked to him. Sharp. Measuring.
"Good," she said. "You followed the rule."
Hayden kept his tone respectful. "I wasn't hiding it."
Jessica nodded once. "I know."
She took a sip.
"You know what people will assume, right?" she asked.
Hayden didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Yes."
Jessica's voice stayed calm. "And you know what assumptions do to reputations."
"Yes."
Jessica finally looked at him fully.
"Then tell me," she said, "why I shouldn't take you off this case."
Hayden didn't flinch.
Because this was the real test: not law, not contracts—judgment.
"Because she was about to do something reckless," Hayden said evenly. "She needed a controlled channel. I gave her one. Now she's back on the plan."
Jessica stared at him for a beat.
Then she nodded once.
"Good answer," she said. "Still risky."
Hayden nodded. "I calculated the fallout."
Jessica's mouth twitched—almost amused, almost proud, almost neither.
"You're learning," she said.
Hayden met her eyes. "So are they."
Jessica's expression tightened. "Yes. And they're going to swing back."
She stood, setting her cup down like a gavel.
"Back to the office," Jessica said. "Donna will want the full rundown."
Hayden stood as well. "Already drafting it."
Jessica paused, just before walking away.
"And Harper?"
"Yes."
Jessica's voice dropped half a degree—warning wrapped in mentorship.
"Don't confuse being useful with being untouchable," she said.
Hayden's gaze stayed steady. "I won't."
Jessica nodded once and walked out.
Hayden followed.
And as he stepped outside into the harsh LA sunlight, one thought settled into place like a loaded magazine clicking home:
Sunset wasn't just playing hardball.
They were playing dirty.
Which meant Chapter 10 wouldn't be about contracts.
It would be about consequences.