Marcus was back at his desk by 8:45 AM, looking like he'd gotten a full night's sleep despite having worked through the night. The shower, fresh suit, and carefully calculated application of eye drops had done their job. No one needed to know he was running on caffeine and adrenaline.
His phone buzzed with a call from Louis.
"Marcus, my office. Now."
The tone was urgent but not angry. Marcus grabbed his coffee and headed down the hall.
Louis was pacing when Marcus arrived, which seemed to be his default state during high-stress situations.
"I read your motion on the Fletcher case," Louis said. "That prior art analysis is brilliant. How did you find a patent filing from 2003 that everyone else missed?"
"I was thorough," Marcus said simply. "The prior art database isn't that large if you know how to search it properly. Most lawyers look for obvious matches. I looked for component similarities and design principles."
"Meridian's counsel is going to fight this hard. Alan Grant is representing them, and he's good. Really good."
Marcus filed the name away. Alan Grant, patent litigation specialist, former engineer turned lawyer, known for aggressive tactics and technical expertise.
"When's the hearing on the motion?" Marcus asked.
"Two weeks. Judge Morrison. She's fair but expects you to know your technical details cold. If you can't explain the engineering specifications, she'll tear you apart."
"Then I'll learn the engineering specifications," Marcus said.
Louis stopped pacing and looked at Marcus. "You know valve design?"
"Not yet. But I will by the hearing." Marcus pulled out his phone and started making notes. "I need to talk to Fletcher's lead engineer. Get me a meeting for today if possible. I also need all technical documentation: blueprints, design notes, development timelines, everything."
"You're going to learn industrial valve engineering in two weeks?"
"I'm going to learn enough to win this motion in two weeks," Marcus corrected. "I don't need to become an engineer. I just need to understand the technical distinctions well enough to explain them to a judge."
Louis shook his head, somewhere between amazement and disbelief. "You're either the most confident person I've ever met or completely insane."
"Why not both?" Marcus said with a slight smile. "Get me that meeting with Fletcher's engineer. I'll handle the rest."
By noon, Marcus was sitting in a conference room with Dr. Raymond Fletcher, the founder and chief engineer of Fletcher Industries. Dr. Fletcher was a man in his late sixties with wild white hair and the slightly distracted air of someone who was more comfortable with machines than people.
"Mr. Cole," Dr. Fletcher said, shaking hands. "Louis tells me you're going to save my company."
"I'm going to try," Marcus said. "But I need your help understanding the technical details of your valve design. Walk me through it like I'm a complete novice."
"Are you a complete novice?"
"In valve engineering? Absolutely."
Dr. Fletcher smiled; apparently, he appreciated honesty. "Alright. Let's start with the basics."
For the next three hours, Dr. Fletcher explained the intricacies of industrial valve systems. Flow rates, pressure tolerances, seal mechanisms, and material specifications. Marcus absorbed every detail, his perfect recall cataloguing the information and cross-referencing it with the patent filings he'd already memorized.
By the time they finished, Marcus understood not just how Fletcher's valve worked, but also why it differed from Meridian's design in ways that mattered.
"The key distinction," Marcus said, testing his understanding, "is in the seal mechanism. Meridian uses a compression seal that requires constant pressure adjustment. Your design uses a dynamic seal that self-adjusts based on flow rate. That's a fundamental difference in approach, not just a minor variation."
Dr. Fletcher's eyes widened. "Exactly right. I've been trying to explain that to our previous lawyers for months, and they never quite got it."
"Because they were thinking like lawyers, not engineers," Marcus said. "The legal question isn't whether the valves look similar, it's whether they solve the same problem in the same way. They don't. Your solution is more elegant and more efficient."
"Can you prove that in court?"
"Yes," Marcus said. "But I'm going to need expert witnesses who can testify to these technical distinctions. Do you have recommendations?"
Dr. Fletcher pulled out his phone. "I know three professors who'd be perfect. Let me make some calls."
Over the next ten days, Marcus became a temporary expert in industrial valve engineering. He read textbooks, reviewed academic papers, and studied competing designs. His perfect recall meant that once he'd read something, it was permanently accessible, every equation, every diagram, every technical specification.
He also prepared for the inevitable confrontation with Alan Grant. Marcus researched every case Grant had litigated, every argument he'd made, every tactical preference he displayed in court. Grant was aggressive, technically proficient, and inclined to try to overwhelm opponents with complexity.
Marcus planned to use that against him.
The hearing was scheduled for a Tuesday morning. Marcus arrived at the courthouse an hour early, as was his habit. He'd memorized his entire argument, prepared for every possible question Judge Morrison might ask, and anticipated every objection Grant would raise.
Dr. Fletcher met him in the hallway, looking nervous.
"You ready for this?" Dr. Fletcher asked.
"Completely," Marcus said.
Alan Grant arrived fifteen minutes before the hearing. He was a tall man in his early fifties, impeccably dressed, with the confident bearing of someone who'd won far more cases than he'd lost. He was accompanied by two associates and a paralegal, all carrying multiple file boxes.
Grant saw Marcus and walked over, extending his hand.
"Alan Grant. You must be Marcus Cole."
"I am," Marcus said, shaking hands. Grant's grip was firm, professional.
"I've heard about you," Grant said. "The associate who beat Harvey Specter. Impressive."
"Thank you."
"Don't expect the same outcome today," Grant said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Patent litigation is a different game. Technical complexity tends to favor the more experienced attorney."
"Then I suppose we'll find out which of us understands the technology better," Marcus said evenly.
Grant's smile tightened. "Indeed, we will."
The courtroom doors opened, and they filed in.
Judge Morrison took the bench at exactly 9 AM. She was a woman in her mid-fifties with sharp eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and a reputation for having zero patience for unprepared lawyers.
"Gentlemen," she said. "This is a motion to invalidate Meridian Technologies' patent based on prior art. Mr. Cole, you're moving to invalidate. Make your argument."
Marcus stood, buttoning his jacket as he approached the podium.
"Thank you, Your Honor. Meridian's patent claims coverage for a 'dynamic pressure-responsive valve seal mechanism.' However, a 2003 patent filing by Kelton Engineering describes an identical mechanism. Meridian's patent is therefore invalid for lack of novelty."
"Mr. Grant?" Judge Morrison asked.
Grant stood, and Marcus noticed he didn't bother with notes; he was working from memory, just like Marcus.
"Your Honor, the Kelton patent describes a static seal with manual adjustment capabilities. Meridian's patent covers a fully dynamic, self-adjusting mechanism. These are fundamentally different inventions."
"Mr. Cole, response?"
Marcus pulled up a technical diagram on the courtroom screen, showing the Kelton patent side by side with Meridian's patent.
"Your Honor, if you look at Figure 3 of the Kelton patent and Figure 7 of the Meridian patent, you'll see the seal mechanisms are structurally identical. Both use a spring-loaded compression system that adjusts based on internal pressure. The only difference is that Kelton describes it as 'pressure-responsive adjustment' while Meridian calls it 'dynamic self-adjustment.' That's a semantic distinction, not a functional one."
Judge Morrison leaned forward, studying the diagrams. "Mr. Grant, is Mr. Cole correct about the structural similarity?"
"The structures may appear similar at a superficial level," Grant said, "but the underlying engineering principles are different. Kelton's system requires initial calibration and periodic manual adjustment. Meridian's system is fully automated and requires no user intervention."
"That's not what the patents say," Marcus interjected. "Kelton's patent explicitly describes 'continuous automatic adjustment in response to system pressure variations.' That's automation, Your Honor. Mr. Grant is mischaracterizing the prior art."
Grant's expression darkened. "Your Honor, Mr. Cole is cherry-picking language from the Kelton patent without understanding the full technical context—"
"I understand the technical context perfectly," Marcus interrupted. "I've spent the past two weeks consulting with Dr. Raymond Fletcher, a mechanical engineer with forty years of experience in valve design. I've also consulted three university professors specializing in fluid dynamics and pressure systems. All of them agree that the Kelton patent and the Meridian patent describe the same fundamental mechanism."
"Do you have declarations from these experts?" Judge Morrison asked.
"Yes, Your Honor." Marcus handed the bailiff a stack of documents. "Four expert declarations, all stating that Meridian's patent claims are anticipated by the Kelton prior art."
Judge Morrison reviewed the declarations, her expression thoughtful.
"Mr. Grant, do you have contrary expert testimony?"
Grant hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, but Marcus caught it.
"We can obtain expert testimony, Your Honor, but we weren't aware Mr. Cole would be presenting experts at this hearing—"
"This is a motion hearing, Mr. Grant," Judge Morrison said sharply. "If you want to oppose a prior art invalidity argument, you should expect the moving party to have expert support. Do you have any evidence to rebut Mr. Cole's experts?"
"Not at this time, Your Honor."
Judge Morrison set down the declarations. "Then here's my ruling. The Kelton patent appears to anticipate key elements of Meridian's patent. Mr. Cole has presented credible expert testimony supporting that conclusion. Mr. Grant has presented no contrary evidence. The motion to invalidate is granted. Meridian's patent is invalid for lack of novelty."
Marcus felt the rush of victory, clean and absolute.
"However," Judge Morrison continued, "I'm going to give Meridian thirty days to file a motion for reconsideration with supporting expert testimony. If they can demonstrate that their patent claims are distinguishable from Kelton, I'll reconsider this ruling. Otherwise, the patent invalidation stands, and the infringement claim is dismissed. We're adjourned."
She banged her gavel.
Marcus turned to Dr. Fletcher, who looked like he might cry with relief.
"You did it," Dr. Fletcher said. "You actually did it."
"We did it," Marcus corrected. "Your technical explanations were essential."
Grant approached, his expression professionally neutral despite the loss.
"Well argued, Mr. Cole," Grant said. "You clearly did your homework."
"Thank you," Marcus said.
"Don't get too comfortable," Grant added. "We'll be filing that motion for reconsideration. This isn't over."
"I'm counting on it," Marcus said. "I enjoy winning."
Grant's expression flickered, irritation, maybe, or grudging respect. Then he turned and left, his team trailing behind him.
Marcus returned to Pearson Hardman to find Louis waiting in his office, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Jessica wants to see you," Louis said. "Right now."
"Good news or bad news?" Marcus asked.
"With Jessica, who knows? But she doesn't usually call associates to her office unless it's important."
Marcus grabbed his jacket and headed to the forty-third floor. Jessica's assistant waved him through immediately.
Jessica was standing by her window when Marcus entered, looking out at the Manhattan skyline.
"Marcus," she said without turning around. "Sit."
Marcus sat, waiting.
Jessica turned to face him. "You've been here three weeks. In that time, you've resolved the Rayburn Pharmaceuticals FDA crisis, beaten Harvey Specter in the Morrison Steel case, and now you've won a patent invalidation motion against one of the best patent litigators in New York. That's an impressive start to a career."
"Thank you," Marcus said.
"It's also raising questions," Jessica continued. "People are wondering how a brand-new associate is consistently outperforming lawyers with ten, fifteen, or twenty years of experience. Some people think you're brilliant. Some people think you're lucky. And some people—" she paused meaningfully, "—think you might be cutting corners."
Marcus felt a spike of adrenaline but kept his expression neutral. "I don't cut corners."
"I know," Jessica said. "I've reviewed your work. It's meticulous, thoroughly researched, and legally sound. But perception matters in this firm, Marcus. If people think you're winning through shortcuts or tricks, it undermines your credibility."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to understand that every victory you achieve makes you more visible," Jessica said. "More visibility means more scrutiny. People will look for weaknesses, for mistakes, for anything they can use against you. You need to be flawless."
"I am flawless," Marcus said.
Jessica smiled slightly. "That's the confidence that got you here. Don't let it become arrogance. Arrogance makes enemies, and enemies look for ways to bring you down."
"Noted," Marcus said.
"Good." Jessica walked back to her desk. "I'm giving you another case. Solo. Whitmore Financial is being sued for securities fraud. The plaintiff alleges insider trading based on suspicious stock purchases. Trial is in eight weeks."
Marcus's mind immediately started cataloguing relevant securities regulations, insider trading precedents, and discovery requirements.
"I'll win it," he said.
"I'm sure you will," Jessica said. "But Marcus? This case has media attention. High-profile plaintiff, allegations of corporate corruption, and potential criminal referrals. If you screw this up, it doesn't just hurt you; it hurts the firm. So don't screw it up."
"I won't."
"Dismissed."
Marcus walked out of Jessica's office with a new case file and a clear understanding of what was at stake. Jessica was giving him opportunities but also testing him. Every case was a chance to prove himself, and a chance to fail spectacularly in front of the entire firm.
Most associates would be terrified.
Marcus was energized.
The Whitmore Financial case file was waiting on his desk when he returned. Marcus dove in immediately, reading the complaint, exhibits, and preliminary discovery responses.
The allegations were serious. The plaintiff, a minority shareholder, claimed that Whitmore's executives had traded on insider information about an upcoming merger. The trades were perfectly timed: large stock purchases three days before the merger announcement, resulting in millions in profits.
It looked bad. Really bad.
But Marcus had learned from the Morrison case that things that looked bad weren't always actually bad. Sometimes they were just poorly explained.
He started pulling Whitmore's internal communications, emails, memos, and meeting notes. His perfect recall let him process thousands of pages in hours, looking for patterns, timeline inconsistencies, anything that didn't fit the insider trading narrative.
By midnight, he'd found something interesting.
The "suspicious" stock purchases were made under a prearranged trading plan—a 10b5-1 plan—established six months before the merger announcement. Under SEC regulations, trades made pursuant to a prearranged plan weren't insider trading because they were scheduled before the trader had access to material nonpublic information.
The plaintiff's complaint hadn't mentioned the 10b5-1 plan. Either they didn't know about it, or they were deliberately omitting it.
Marcus pulled Whitmore's SEC filings and found the 10b5-1 plan disclosure, right there in black and white. The trades were legitimate, pre-planned, and completely legal.
This case wasn't just winnable, it was dismissible.
Marcus drafted a motion to dismiss based on the 10b5-1 plan defense, supported by SEC regulations and case law. He worked through the night again, fueled by coffee and the satisfaction of watching a strong defense come together.
By 6 AM, the motion was complete.
He sent it to Louis with a note:
Whitmore Financial's motion to dismiss is ready. This case is over before it starts.
Louis called him thirty seconds later.
"Marcus, it's six in the morning. Again."
"I know what time it is," Marcus said. "Did you read the motion?"
"I'm reading it now. This 10b5-1 plan defense is solid. Why didn't plaintiff's counsel find this?"
"Because they were sloppy," Marcus said. "They saw suspicious-looking trades and filed without doing thorough due diligence. It's going to cost them."
"When are you going to sleep?"
"When there's nothing left to do," Marcus said. "Which isn't now."
He heard Louis sigh on the other end of the line.
"Fine. But Marcus? Jessica's right. People are starting to notice how hard you work. It's impressive, but it's also making some of the other associates look bad by comparison. Just... be aware of that."
"I'm not here to make friends with other associates," Marcus said. "I'm here to win cases."
"I know. Just remember that politics matter too."
They hung up, and Marcus stared at his phone for a moment. Office politics. The one thing his abilities couldn't help him with.
He pushed the thought aside and got back to work. There were still three more cases on his desk that needed attention, and he wasn't going to let anything slip through the cracks.
The next few weeks fell into a rhythm. Marcus worked eighteen to twenty-hour days, cycling through cases with mechanical efficiency. The Fletcher Industries patent case settled after Meridian's experts confirmed that their patent was likely invalid—they paid Fletcher's legal fees and walked away. The Whitmore Financial case was dismissed on the motion, exactly as Marcus had predicted.
He was racking up wins at a pace that was starting to feel almost routine.
But with each victory came increased scrutiny. Other associates started avoiding him, seeing him as competition rather than a colleague. Partners started requesting him specifically for their cases, which meant more work but also more visibility.
And Harvey Specter was watching. Always watching.
Marcus would catch him sometimes, in the hallway or the library, just observing. Harvey never said anything directly, but the message was clear: I'm waiting for you to make a mistake.
Marcus had no intention of making one.
It was a Thursday afternoon when Louis appeared at Marcus's desk with a file that looked different from the usual corporate litigation.
"Marcus, I need you on something unusual," Louis said, setting down the file.
"Define unusual," Marcus said, not looking up from the contract he was reviewing.
"Criminal defense. White-collar. A hedge fund manager is being indicted for securities fraud. He wants Pearson Hardman to represent him."
That got Marcus's attention. He looked up.
"We don't usually do criminal defense," Marcus said.
"No, we don't," Louis agreed. "But this client specifically requested you."
"Me? Why?"
"Because he read about the Whitmore Financial dismissal. He thinks if you can get that case thrown out, you can help him beat a federal indictment."
Marcus opened the file. The client was Jonathan Mercer, a hedge fund manager accused of running a pump-and-dump scheme. The charges were serious—wire fraud, securities fraud, conspiracy. If convicted, he faced 20 years in federal prison.
"This is outside my area of expertise," Marcus said honestly.
"So was patent law before the Fletcher case," Louis pointed out. "And you won that too."
Marcus stared at the file. Criminal defense was different from civil litigation. Different rules, different standards, different stakes. He'd need to learn federal criminal procedure, understand prosecutorial tactics, and prepare for a completely different kind of trial.
Most associates would refuse, would say it was too risky, too far outside their comfort zone.
Marcus felt the familiar pull of a challenge.
"When's the arraignment?" he asked.
"Next week. You'll need to move fast."
"Then I'll move fast." Marcus closed the file. "Set up a meeting with Mercer. I want to hear his side of the story before I commit to this defense."
"You're actually going to take this case?" Louis asked.
"If Mercer's innocent, yes," Marcus said. "If he's guilty, then no. I don't defend criminals, I defend people who are wrongly accused."
"How will you know the difference?"
Marcus smiled. "I'll know."
Because he would. His lie detection would tell him if Mercer was lying about his innocence. And if Mercer was telling the truth, Marcus would move heaven and earth to prove it.
This was about to get interesting.
Jonathan Mercer sat across from Marcus in a conference room the following Monday, looking exactly like a man facing twenty years in federal prison: exhausted, anxious, and barely holding it together.
"Mr. Cole," Mercer said, his voice strained. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"Tell me what happened," Marcus said. "From the beginning. And don't leave anything out."
Mercer took a shaky breath. "I run a hedge fund, Mercer Capital Management. We specialize in small-cap stocks, companies with market caps under five hundred million. Six months ago, we identified a biotech company, GenTech Solutions, that we believed was undervalued. We took a significant position, about forty million dollars."
"And?" Marcus prompted.
"And we put out research reports explaining why we thought GenTech was a good investment. The stock price went up. A lot. We eventually sold our position at a profit."
"How much profit?"
"Eighty million dollars."
Marcus made a note. "The indictment claims you artificially inflated the stock price through false and misleading research reports, then sold at the peak. Pump and dump."
"That's not what happened," Mercer insisted. "Our research was legitimate. GenTech really was undervalued. The market just took time to recognize it."
Marcus studied Mercer's face, waiting for his lie detection to register.
TRUE. Mercer believed what he was saying.
"Tell me about the research reports," Marcus said. "Who wrote them?"
"My analysts. Three PhD-level researchers who specialize in biotech investments. Everything in those reports was factual."
TRUE.
"Did you know the stock price would go up when you published the research?"
Mercer hesitated. "I hoped it would. That's the point of investment research: you identify undervalued assets and explain why they're undervalued. If you're right, the market corrects, and the price goes up."
TRUE.
"Did you make any false statements in the research reports?"
"No." Mercer met Marcus's eyes. "Everything we published was based on GenTech's actual clinical trial data, their patent portfolio, and their financial statements. We didn't fabricate anything."
TRUE.
Marcus leaned back. Mercer was telling the truth—or at least, he believed he was telling the truth. Which meant this wasn't a criminal fraud case. This was an overzealous prosecutor trying to criminalize a legitimate investment strategy.
"I'll take your case," Marcus said.
Mercer's relief was palpable. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
"Don't thank me yet," Marcus said. "The U.S. Attorney's Office doesn't indict people lightly. They have evidence, and they think they can win. I need to see everything, all of your research reports, all internal communications, all trading records. If there's anything that could be used against you, I need to know about it now."
"You'll have it by tomorrow," Mercer promised.
As Mercer left, Marcus sat alone in the conference room, already planning his defense strategy.
This case was different from anything he'd handled before. Criminal defense required a different mindset; you weren't just trying to win, you were trying to keep someone out of prison. The stakes were personal in a way civil litigation never was.
But Marcus had something most defense attorneys didn't: absolute certainty about his client's innocence.
Mercer was telling the truth. Which meant the prosecution's case was built on a fundamental misunderstanding of investment research and market dynamics.
Marcus was going to prove it.
And when he did, the U.S. Attorney's Office would learn the same lesson Harvey Specter had learned: Marcus Cole didn't lose.
He pulled out his laptop and started researching federal securities fraud statutes, criminal procedure, and case law on investment research as protected speech.
He had a federal indictment to beat.