(Mira's POV)
If someone had told me a week ago that my life would turn into a private law firm, a fake marriage contract, two men fighting invisible wars around me, and a man named Ethan Wolfe offering me his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world — I would have laughed.
Not a polite laugh.
The kind of laugh you use when life sounds like a badly written drama series.
Yet here I was.
Walking into a building where silence felt expensive and every step sounded like a decision being recorded somewhere permanent.
Honestly? I didn't know whether to be impressed, terrified, or annoyed.
Maybe all three.
The law house didn't look like a normal office. It didn't feel like one either. It felt like a place where secrets were ironed flat and sealed into folders. The kind of place where people walked in with problems and walked out with altered lives.
Glass. Steel. Marble floors so polished they reflected my heels at me like a reminder: You're really here.
