Chapter 11 — : Emergency Means Everyone Lies Faster
By 8:06 AM, the courthouse hallway looked like a runway for people who hated each other professionally.
Jessica Pearson arrived first—calm, tailored, unhurried. Donna walked beside her with a folder, a phone, and the serene expression of a woman who could dismantle a career before breakfast.
Maya Alvarez followed with a banker's box of exhibits.
Hayden Harper walked last—not because he was behind, but because he liked seeing the board before he moved.
Outside the courtroom doors, Sunset Network's team was already there.
Their outside counsel—Gideon Price—was exactly the kind of man who smiled while threatening your future. Perfect hair, perfect suit, perfect confidence. He shook hands like he was collecting IOUs.
Hayden immediately clocked Harvey's presence in Gideon's posture.
Old enemy energy.
Gideon's eyes landed on Jessica and brightened. "Ms. Pearson."
Jessica didn't slow. "Mr. Price."
Gideon's smile widened. "Still winning with intimidation, I see."
Jessica's voice was flat. "Still losing with charm, I see."
Donna made a small pleased sound like she'd just heard poetry.
Gideon's eyes flicked to Hayden—curious, measuring. "And this must be the new associate."
Hayden met his gaze calmly. "Hayden Harper."
Gideon's smile sharpened. "Ah. Harper. The one making sure we don't have any… conflicts."
Hayden didn't blink. "The one making sure you don't waste the judge's time."
Gideon laughed softly. "Bold."
Hayden's voice stayed even. "Efficient."
Jessica didn't let the hallway become a stage. She turned toward the courtroom doors.
"We're done talking," she said.
Gideon's smile stayed, but his eyes narrowed slightly as she walked away.
That was the first win of the morning:
not engaging.
---
Inside Department 32, the judge looked even more tired than last time.
Same dry voice. Same impatience for theatre.
"Emergency hearing," the judge said, flipping pages. "Which in my experience means everyone panicked and decided my calendar is their personal trash can. Let's begin."
Gideon stood first, smooth as oil.
"Your Honor," he began, "we're here because our client's star talent is in breach, and Pearson Hardman West is escalating a dispute into a public spectacle—"
Jessica rose slowly.
The judge held up a hand. "Ms. Pearson, I'll hear him first."
Jessica sat. Calm.
Hayden felt it: Gideon wanted to plant narrative seeds. Jessica was letting him hang himself with them.
Gideon continued. "Our client seeks temporary injunctive relief to preserve the status quo—"
The judge cut in. "Status quo based on what document?"
Gideon smiled. "Amendment Three, Your Honor."
Jessica stood again.
The judge sighed. "Ms. Pearson."
Jessica's voice was controlled, crisp. "Your Honor, before we waste the court's time on remedies, we need to confirm the foundation. That amendment is unauthenticated. We filed expedited discovery limited to authenticity and chain of custody."
Gideon's smile didn't crack. "It's signed."
Jessica's tone didn't change. "It's presented. That is not the same as proven."
The judge leaned forward slightly. "Counsel, do you have the original?"
Gideon hesitated—just a hair.
"Your Honor," he said smoothly, "in the modern era, originals are often digital—"
The judge's eyes hardened. "Do you have the original file. The source. The metadata. The chain."
Gideon's smile stayed pasted on. "We have a copy in our possession."
Jessica's voice was soft steel. "So no."
A faint ripple moved through the courtroom—clerks, other lawyers, even the bailiff. The judge hated vague answers. Everyone knew it.
Gideon pivoted fast. "Your Honor, Pearson is trying to distract. Their client is refusing to work—"
Jessica didn't flinch. "Our client is refusing to submit to an amendment she did not sign."
Gideon snapped, "That's your allegation."
Jessica nodded once. "Which is why we requested expedited discovery."
The judge stared at Gideon. "Why aren't you producing chain-of-custody voluntarily if you're confident?"
Gideon's smile tightened. "Because Pearson is weaponizing discovery to harass employees."
Jessica's eyes narrowed. "Authentication isn't harassment. It's hygiene."
The judge's mouth twitched—almost amused.
Then his gaze shifted to Hayden.
"Mr. Harper," the judge said.
Hayden stood immediately, calm. "Yes, Your Honor."
The judge held up the amendment exhibit. "In your motion, you're requesting a deposition of an assistant witness within ten days. Why so fast?"
Hayden didn't oversell it. He answered like he was explaining gravity.
"Because the longer we wait, the higher the risk of narrative contamination," Hayden said. "Memories are influenced by repeated story exposure. The purpose of expedited authenticity discovery is to preserve the most accurate account and prevent this from becoming a press-driven dispute rather than a document-driven dispute."
Gideon scoffed lightly. "Narrative contamination?"
Hayden didn't look at him. He looked at the judge.
"Yes, Your Honor," Hayden said evenly. "If this document is genuine, the fastest way to prove it is to show its footprint. If it isn't, the fastest way to prevent harm is to find out before your court is asked to enforce it."
The judge nodded slowly. "Reasonable."
Gideon tried to recover. "Your Honor, they're overreaching. They're trying to turn an employment contract dispute into allegations of criminal forgery—"
Jessica's voice cut through, calm. "We didn't allege criminal conduct. We alleged the document is unauthenticated. If it's genuine, authenticity discovery benefits everyone."
The judge leaned back, staring at Gideon like he was tired of the performance.
"Mr. Price," he said, "you want me to force a person to work based on a document you can't authenticate. That's… not persuasive."
Gideon's smile strained. "Your Honor, our client is suffering irreparable harm—"
The judge held up a hand. "Irritable harm is not irreparable harm."
Donna had to cover her mouth to hide a grin. Maya's eyes widened like she'd just seen God.
Gideon swallowed.
The judge continued. "Here's what we're doing. TRO denied—for now."
Gideon's eyes flashed with annoyance.
The judge raised a finger. "Expedited discovery granted. Ten days. Strict scope. Chain of custody, metadata, and witness deposition. I want an updated status conference immediately after."
Jessica nodded once. "Thank you, Your Honor."
Gideon forced a smile. "Understood, Your Honor."
The judge looked at both sides, voice hardening.
"And if I see press leaks or smear tactics continuing," he said, "I will start making orders that hurt."
Then he looked straight at Gideon.
"Especially you," he added.
Gideon's smile died for half a second.
Then the judge stood. "Next."
Gavel.
Done.
---
Outside the courtroom, Jessica didn't celebrate. She never celebrated early.
She walked with purpose toward a quiet hallway corner.
Donna and Maya followed. Hayden stayed half a step back, letting Jessica lead like she liked.
Jessica turned and looked at him.
"That was good," she said.
Hayden nodded once. "Thank you."
Jessica's eyes narrowed. "Don't thank me. Prepare for retaliation."
Maya exhaled. "They lost the TRO."
Jessica corrected her immediately. "They lost speed. Not the war."
Donna's phone buzzed. She glanced down.
Then her smile vanished—rare.
"Jessica," Donna said quietly, "they just filed a complaint with the Bar."
The air in the hallway changed instantly.
Maya's eyes widened. "What?"
Donna held the phone out. "They're alleging… conflict. Improper relationship. Off-site meetings."
Jessica's gaze snapped to Hayden—sharp, not accusing, assessing.
Hayden's face stayed calm. "We have documentation."
Donna nodded. "We do. And it's clean."
Jessica's voice went cold. "Good. Because now we're not just fighting Sunset."
She looked at Hayden.
"Now," she said, "we're fighting your name."
Hayden's eyes sharpened, steady.
"Then," he said softly, "we win twice."
Jessica held his gaze for a beat.
Then she nodded once, the tiniest sign of approval.
"Good," she said. "Back to the office."
And as they walked, Hayden felt the old thrill of chaos rise again—because this was exactly the kind of fight that could consume him.
He shoved it back down.
Controlled chaos meant you didn't enjoy the fire.
You used it.
Back at Pearson Hardman West, the air felt different.
Not louder. Not panicked.
Sharper.
People had the kind of quiet on their faces that meant a rumor had teeth and everyone was politely pretending they weren't waiting to see who it bit first.
Hayden stepped out of the elevator and immediately saw the ripple: heads turned, then turned away too fast. Assistants stopped talking mid-sentence. A junior associate "accidentally" stared at his tie like ties were suddenly fascinating.
Donna brushed past him like she owned the hallway—which, functionally, she did.
"Don't look at them," she said under her breath. "They're bored and hungry. Like pigeons."
Hayden didn't even glance. "I'm not worried about pigeons."
Donna's smile sharpened. "Good. Because the hawks are upstairs."
---
Jessica's office door was closed.
That alone was a mood.
Inside: Jessica at her desk, Donna standing like a guard dog in heels, Maya with a laptop open and a face that said she'd like to sue the concept of stress.
And—because the universe loved drama—Louis Litt was there too.
Sitting.
Uninvited.
Smiling.
Like a man who'd found a new hobby and decided it was "watching people bleed."
Jessica didn't look at Louis when Hayden entered.
She looked at Hayden.
"Sit," she said.
Hayden sat.
Louis spoke first, of course. "Well, well. Our very own scandal."
Hayden's expression stayed calm. "Louis, you're glowing. Did you moisturize or is this just excitement?"
Maya made a quiet choking noise. Donna's mouth twitched.
Louis's smile tightened. "Be careful, Harper. The Bar doesn't have a sense of humor."
Hayden didn't look at him. He looked at Jessica. "We have documentation."
Donna dropped a thick folder onto the desk like it was a dead body.
"We have everything," Donna said brightly. "Timeline, locations, duration, communications, and—my personal favorite—security footage of him leaving the coffee shop alone like a man who enjoys being employed."
Louis's eyes flicked to the folder, annoyance flashing. "Security footage?"
Donna smiled sweetly. "You'd be amazed what you can get when people like me exist."
Jessica finally addressed Louis—without moving her head, just her voice.
"Louis," she said calmly, "why are you in my office?"
Louis spread his hands. "I'm concerned about the firm."
Jessica's gaze didn't soften. "No. You're entertained by the firm."
Louis's smile wavered, then returned. "This is serious."
Jessica's eyes narrowed. "So is trespassing. Leave."
Louis blinked. "Excuse me?"
Jessica finally looked at him fully.
"Out," she said.
Louis stood slowly, offended, but he didn't argue—not with that tone.
As he passed Hayden, he leaned in slightly.
"You should've listened," Louis whispered. "Higher you climb…"
Hayden met his eyes, calm as ever. "Yes, yes. Gravity. Try not to trip."
Louis glared and walked out.
The door shut.
The room immediately felt like it could breathe again.
Donna exhaled. "Thank you. He makes the air judgmental."
Jessica didn't smile. "Donna."
Donna straightened. "Yes?"
"Lock the door."
Donna looked delighted. "With pleasure."
Click.
Now it was just them.
Jessica leaned back. "Alright, Harper. This is the first time the game has come for you personally."
Hayden nodded once. "Understood."
Maya's voice was quiet. "This could turn into a formal inquiry."
Hayden didn't sugarcoat it. "It will."
Donna flipped open the folder. "Which is why we're making it boring."
Jessica's eyes sharpened. "Exactly."
She slid a blank legal pad toward Hayden.
"Write," she said.
Hayden blinked once. "What."
Jessica's tone stayed flat. "A statement. Not for the press. For the Bar. Chronology only. No emotion. No defensiveness. Facts that don't move."
Hayden picked up the pen.
Controlled chaos meant: don't flail. Build a wall.
He started writing.
Date. Time. Location.
Purpose: client risk mitigation.
Duration: fifteen minutes.
Public setting.
No physical contact.
No personal discussion beyond litigation strategy and document integrity.
Immediately reported to Donna and Jessica.
All subsequent communications routed through the firm.
Donna watched him write like she was watching a surgeon work.
"Perfect," Donna murmured. "It's so dull it could put a judge to sleep."
Maya nodded, impressed. "That's what we want. Dull and true."
Jessica didn't praise him. She simply said, "Good. Now add this."
She slid another sheet across the desk.
A printed copy of the anonymous text: YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU'RE UP AGAINST. WALK AWAY.
Hayden's eyes narrowed. "We're including that?"
Jessica's gaze was cold. "Not as drama. As pattern."
Maya leaned forward. "Retaliation behavior. Pressure tactics."
Donna smiled. "Also, it makes Sunset look like the kind of people who send anonymous warnings, which is… not great for them."
Hayden wrote again—careful language, no leaps, no accusations.
Received anonymous message after client dispute escalated. Provided to firm administration immediately.
Jessica nodded once. "Good. We don't claim. We document."
Maya's phone buzzed. She glanced down and frowned.
"They're already circulating the rumor inside the firm," Maya said. "Someone's saying you've 'got a thing' for the client."
Donna's smile turned predatory. "Name."
Maya hesitated. "I—"
Jessica cut in. "We don't hunt rumors. We crush them with output."
Hayden looked up. "But we should identify the source."
Jessica held his gaze. "Later. First: the Bar response. Second: win the case. Third: then we handle internal infection."
Donna nodded, reluctantly impressed. "She's right. Sadly."
Hayden finished the statement and slid it across to Jessica.
Jessica read it once.
Then again.
Then she nodded once. "Good."
Two words. Heavy ones.
Then she looked at Donna. "Package it."
Donna was already moving. "Affidavit format, attachments, timestamps, and my sworn declaration that I'm terrifying."
Jessica looked back to Hayden. "From now on, all client contact is through the firm and in writing unless I approve otherwise."
Hayden nodded. "Understood."
Jessica leaned forward slightly, voice quiet.
"And Harper?"
"Yes."
"This is where men like Sunset expect you to panic," she said. "They want you defensive. They want you sloppy."
Hayden's gaze stayed steady. "I won't give them that."
Jessica's eyes narrowed approvingly. "Good."
Maya added, "What about Melissa? She's going to hear about this."
Donna waved her phone. "Already did. Her publicist called screaming into the void."
Jessica stood. "Then we talk to Melissa. Now. And we do it the same way we do everything: calm, clean, controlled."
---
Donna dialed.
Melissa picked up quickly—too quickly. Like she'd been staring at her phone waiting for permission to explode.
"Tell me this is a joke," Melissa said.
Jessica spoke first. "It's not a joke. It's a tactic."
Melissa's breath sharpened. "They filed a Bar complaint against your associate."
"They did," Jessica said. "Because they're losing the court fight and trying to slow us down."
Melissa's voice turned hard. "They're doing this because of me."
Hayden spoke, steady. "They're doing it because they're afraid of you having leverage."
A beat of silence.
Then Melissa said, quieter, "I don't want you punished for my case."
Hayden didn't soften. He anchored.
"You won't control the board by feeling guilty," he said. "You control it by staying disciplined."
Melissa exhaled once, the anger shifting into focus again. "Okay. What do you need?"
Donna jumped in. "We need you to do nothing publicly about this."
Melissa huffed. "I wasn't going to."
Jessica's voice was calm, unwavering. "Good. Because if you comment, they'll claim it proves 'improper involvement.'"
Melissa's tone turned bitter. "So I just let them lie."
Hayden answered evenly. "You let them lie in public while we make them tell the truth under oath."
Melissa went quiet for a second.
Then: "Fine."
Jessica's voice softened by a fraction—not comfort, just clarity. "They're trying to isolate you. They're trying to make you feel like the only way to fight back is a headline."
Melissa's voice was low. "I don't want a headline. I want consequences."
Jessica's tone sharpened. "Then trust the process."
A pause.
Melissa sighed. "I do."
And then she added, directed at Hayden: "Harper?"
"Yes."
Her voice was steady. "I'm not going to be the reason you lose your license."
Hayden's reply was simple. "Then don't act like they want you to act."
A beat.
"Okay," Melissa said. "I won't."
The call ended.
Donna immediately pointed at Hayden like he'd won a prize. "Congratulations. You just prevented the celebrity client from going nuclear. That's harder than court."
Hayden exhaled once. "I'm aware."
Jessica's phone buzzed. She glanced down, then looked up.
"Sunset's counsel wants to 'discuss resolution,'" she said.
Harvey, who had apparently materialized again because men like Harvey treated walls as optional, leaned into the doorway.
"They want to discuss resolution because the judge denied the TRO and granted expedited authenticity discovery," Harvey said with a grin. "Which means they're sweating."
Jessica didn't look at him. "Yes."
Harvey's eyes flicked to Hayden. "Also, the Bar complaint? That's a cheap shot."
Hayden nodded once. "Correct."
Harvey smirked. "Good. Because cheap shots make me generous with pain."
Jessica finally looked at Harvey. "Harvey."
He raised his hands. "Fine. Professionally generous."
Donna muttered, "He's like a golden retriever with a law degree. All enthusiasm, occasional biting."
Maya whispered, "That's… accurate."
---
Later that night, at the beach house, Alan was in the kitchen doing something unnatural:
relaxing.
The divorce settlement sat on the counter like a trophy. Jake was asleep on the couch. Charlie was strumming softly—quiet music, not party music.
Hayden walked in and immediately felt the shift.
Charlie looked up. "You look like you fought a bear."
Hayden loosened his tie. "I fought a smear campaign."
Alan blinked. "A what?"
Hayden took a breath. "Sunset filed a Bar complaint against me."
Alan's face went pale instantly. "Oh my God. Hayden—are you—"
"I'm fine," Hayden said firmly. "It's a tactic."
Charlie's expression sharpened—less jokes, more brother.
"Who filed it?" Charlie asked.
"Opposing counsel," Hayden replied.
Charlie's jaw clenched. "So… a guy in a suit tried to ruin your life because you're winning."
Hayden nodded. "That's the short version."
Charlie scoffed. "That's the most LA thing I've ever heard."
Alan swallowed. "Can they actually do that? Just—file something?"
"Yes," Hayden said. "They can file. Doesn't mean it sticks."
Charlie leaned forward, serious. "And what do you do?"
Hayden looked at them both, voice calm.
"You respond with facts," he said. "And you keep winning."
Charlie stared at him for a long beat, then nodded once—rare sincerity.
"Good," Charlie said quietly. "Because if they try to take you down… I'm allowed to hate them, right?"
Hayden's mouth twitched. "You're allowed."
Alan blinked. "Charlie, you can't—"
Charlie cut him off. "Relax, Alan. I'm not going to commit crimes. I'm just going to emotionally support my brother with intense resentment."
Jake, half-asleep, mumbled from the couch: "Captain Lawyer… beat the bad guys…"
Hayden's expression softened for half a second.
Then he checked his phone.
Donna had sent one message:
DONNA: Bar packet delivered. Sunset meeting tomorrow. Also: Louis is sniffing around Mike's file again. Just saying.
Hayden stared at that last line longer than the rest.
Not because of Louis.
Because of Mike.
Because patterns didn't appear once. They appeared until you stopped ignoring them.
Hayden locked the phone, calm returning to his face like a mask.
Charlie watched him. "What?"
Hayden shook his head. "Nothing. Work."
Charlie smirked. "That's what people say right before work becomes personal."
Hayden didn't answer.
Because deep down, he could feel it:
Sunset was loud, sloppy, and desperate.
But the thing Donna mentioned—Louis sniffing around Mike's file—
That was quiet.
That was internal.
And internal problems didn't knock.
They waited.