Rozenn parked her car in the garage of Grey Law Firm at precisely 7:50 AM. The early sun was just seeping through the city's skyscrapers, painting the concrete and glass in slanted strokes of gold. She'd dropped Tammy at the county courthouse—her friend's superior had a delicate settlement to shepherd—and now Rozenn faced her own day's challenges. As she clicked off the engine, she tightened the straps of her tote bag, mentally reviewing the docket Mr. Grey had assigned her for the morning.
She joined the procession of assistants emerging from their vehicles and heading for the bank of elevators. Inside, Kim and Soren were in front of the elevator, chatting in hushed tones about their respective first tasks of the day, while Larry fished his ID card from his wallet. A few more colleagues trickled in: Edna holding a travel mug, Alan with a wad of post-it notes protruding from his pocket, and Lisa adjusting her signature silk scarf.
"Morning, Rozenn!" Lisa called cheerfully, setting down a latte on the narrow shelf by the elevator doors. "Sleep well?"
"Like a log," Rozenn replied, slipping in beside her. "How was your evening?"
"Exhausting," Lisa admitted. "Mr. Collins assigned me three new research memos before I even left the office."
"Three?" Rozenn's eyes widened. "Wasn't that his rule: never assign more than two after 6 PM?"
Lisa shrugged. "I must have looked particularly convincing—or particularly pathetic."
They all laughed softly just as the elevator arrived. The doors slid open, revealing a gleaming interior battered only by scuff marks at the corners. They stepped in, squeezing into the compact space.
But before the elevator doors could close completely, a muffled commotion drifted in from the lobby beyond the open doors. Someone gasped; chairs scraped against tile. A voice, tight with surprise, called out, "Security to the front entrance!"
Curiosity — and a dash of adrenaline — made the group press closer to the elevator door.
"I wonder what that's about," Soren murmured, peering through the gap.
"Oh, we should go check," Larry said, already pressing the 'door open' button. He shoved at the closing doors until they slid back open, and the elevator attendants tumbled backward onto the lobby floor. Rozenn, Kim, and the others followed suit.
The lobby—usually sleek and composed—had erupted into chaos. At the revolving doors stood a striking young woman in a tailored dove-gray sheath dress, clutching a massive bouquet of red roses so big its blossoms overshadowed her face. Two security officers hovered a few steps behind, and a broad-shouldered man wearing dark sunglasses and an earpiece—presumably her bodyguard—stood guard over her retreat path.
From the building's rear entrance, Evander Grey emerged, briefcase in hand, moving toward the reception desk. The moment he spotted the woman, he stopped cold. She threw herself forward, roses first, as if projecting her longing through the stems.
"Evan!" she called, her voice cracking on the vowel. "These are for you. I had to see you today!"
Mr. Grey's stance tightened. Without hesitating, he set his briefcase on the marble floor, then spoke with an even calm that nonetheless sliced through the mayhem.
Mr. Grey, taken aback, halted in his stride. His coat slipped from his arm and fluttered to the floor. "Harvey," he said crisply, his voice calm but edged with steel. "What are you doing here?"
The woman, Harvey, as Rozenn had now figured, stepped forward, shaking. "I just wanted you to know how I feel. So I got these for you. I need to you understand and feel my dedication."
"Miss Strand," he said, using the firm's protocol last name with clipped precision. "You're causing a disturbance. I must ask you to leave the premises immediately."
Tears welled in her eyes. She pressed the roses closer as though they were a shield. "But I—my feelings—"
"Security," he called over his shoulder. Two guards advanced swiftly.
One reached for the bouquet; the other gently but firmly took Miss Harvey's arm.
"You'll be escorted out, Miss Harvey," the guard informed her.
"I'll be back!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the marble walls. Petals rained onto the floor in a carpet of red as the guards led her away, her sobs growing faint as she receded into the corridor. The lobby fell silent except for the faint thud of roses dropping and the beep of the revolving doors resetting.
Rozenn felt her heart thump in her chest, adrenaline rushing. She glanced at her colleagues, who wore expressions of mild shock and amusement.
"Well," Kim said at last, drawing in a steadying breath, "that happened."
Soren crossed her arms. "I've heard she's the daughter of one of the firm's wealthiest clients. But that doesn't give her the right to… well, that."
"Mr Grey was polite," Larry observed. "Professional even when she was causing all the ruckus."
Rozenn watched Mr. Grey stoop to pick up his briefcase, straighten his tie, and brush a rose petal from his lapel. His face was impassive. Just then the elevator doors dinged open on the lobby level, and he strode forward as though nothing had happened. The lobby receptionist's calm voice resumed over the reception desk: "If you're here for Mr. Grey, the elevator to the fifteenth floor is around the corner."
One by one, Rozenn and her friends made their way back to the elevator. The doors closed behind them with the click of finality, and the elevator ascended in silence.
⸻
They spilled onto the fifteenth floor, full of renewed energy and whispered gossip. Rozenn followed the others into the open-plan office. Rows of glass-topped desks formed neat corridors, pendant lamps casting cool circles of light on polished concrete beneath.
Trisha offered her a polite nod. "Good Morning , Miss Eirwen."
"Thank you," Rozenn said, and approached her workstation. She settled her tote and laptop on the desk, then sashayed toward the break-room counter to grab her first cup of office coffee.
Midstream, she nearly collided with Miss Lent, the senior associate notorious for her icy demeanor and unrelenting perfectionism. Miss Lent swept past Rozenn's station in pristine heels and a crisply tailored skirt suit that could cut glass, her expression unreadable. "Watch where you're going, please," she intoned, her voice flat as a judgment.
Rozenn's cheeks warmed. "I'm sorry, Ms. Lent," she said, bowing her head apologetically.
Miss Lent brushed an invisible speck from a colleague's desk. "I have no time for clumsiness." Then she turned on her heel and marched past Mr. Collins' office, heels clicking in a precise staccato.
Rozenn resumed her coffee retrieval more carefully, shooting a glance at Lisa's desk. Lisa shrugged sympathetically. "That's why I avoid her."
"I get it now," Rozenn admitted quietly. "I understand what you meant about her."
Lisa nodded. "She's brilliant, but… well, she's intense."
***************************
At noon, the team gathered their trays and ascended to the fifth-floor cafeteria. The space was airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Long communal tables and cozy booths invited mingling, and an expansive salad bar glistened under bright lights alongside stations for soups, hot entrees, and sushi.
Rozenn joined Kim, Soren, Edna, Alan, and Lisa in the buffet line. Alan loaded his plate with chicken tikka masala; Kim opted for a build-your-own grain bowl; Soren went straight for the salmon fillet. Rozenn held her tray, considering: grilled vegetable focaccia or tuna salad wrap?
She turned to grab a water bottle—and banged elbows with someone. The contact knocked a man's iced coffee out of his grip, sending it sloshing across the counter and dripping onto the floor.
"Oh no!" Rozenn exclaimed, grabbing napkins. "I'm so sorry."
The man—tall, dark curls falling in gentle waves, blue eyes wide with surprise—dropped to one knee, helping her mop the puddle. "It's okay. My fault for leaving the lid loose."
She handed him a handful of napkins. "Let me help. I can grab the mop."
"No, really, I got it." He stood, wiping his hand on a towel. "I'm Alex, from Intellectual Property."
"Rozenn Eirwen," she replied, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm with Mr Grey."
"Oh? The Specialized Team? That's freaking cool," Alex said with a quick, charming smile. "Coffee might be spilled, but I'd say we still have a great beginning."
She laughed, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. "Smooth," she teased, then blushed.
"Oh hey!" Alan's voice rang out. He and the others had were just going to sit and watched the scene unfold. "Little flirtation with the IP guy, I see."
Lisa elbowed Rozenn playfully. "New romance blossoming."
Rozenn rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her pleasure. Alex gave her a wink before heading off to the condiment station.
With their filled their trays, they found seats at their favorite window booth. Between bites of quinoa salad and laughter at Alan's latest epic tale—this time, his "ten minutes of comedic gold" recounting the chaos at his ill-fated one-night stand—they celebrated the Thursday lunchtime ritual.
Midway through, Kim sipped her iced tea and said, "So, Rozenn, tell us more about Alex."
"Oh stop," Rozenn groaned, though she felt a small thrill. "He's nice. Didn't mean to spill his coffee."
Soren grinned. "Classic meet-cute."
Alan raised his fork. "A toast: here's to spontaneous sparks—and fewer spilled beverages!"
They clinked plastic cups together and laughed.
******************
After lunch, the group headed down to the lobby café. The industrial-chic décor—exposed brick walls, Edison bulbs, and high-tops—felt worlds away from the Polished Firm aesthetic. Rozenn treated everyone to coffee once again, ignoring their protests.
As they returned, Kim launched into a story about her recent argument with a witness during one of Rozenn's father's trials. "He actually tried to argue with THE Judge Eirwen about a legal precedent. Can you imagine?"
Rozenn laughed, nearly snorting her latte. "He argued with my dad? Over what?"
"A technicality about hearsay evidence. He laughed in his gavel hand until the courtroom erupted."
"Sounds like someone had a rough day," Rozenn said, tears of mirth in her eyes.
Soren shouted, "Courtroom drama: 10 out of 10, would pay to watch."
⸻
They arrived back on the fifteenth floor after lunch, the lull afternoon buzz settling in. Rozenn returned to her desk and pressed "refresh" on her email—hoping for a response from Mr. Grey on her morning's draft. But instead, the desk phone rang.
"Miss Eirwen, Client Alvarez is here for her minor case. Mr. Grey requested you take her."
Rozenn's stomach clenched. Mrs. Alvarez was the woman whose protective order petition she'd filed two weeks earlier—a client she'd grown unexpectedly fond of after listening to her story of domestic turmoil.
"Send her in," Rozenn answered, tucking a pen behind her ear.
Rozenn packed her stuff and headed for the meeting room.
Moments later, the door to the small glass-walled meeting room clicked open. Mrs. Alvarez marched in, her face stern, arms folded.
"Assistant?" she snapped, slamming the door. "You called me. Now what am I supposed to do about my case?"
Rozenn inhaled, straightening her notes. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Alvarez. I called to confirm the court date and review your testimony. Everything is moving forward as planned."
Mrs. Alvarez's lip curled. "I came here because you're supposed to help me. I get more treatment sitting in that waiting room than I do talking to you!"
Rozenn's heart pounded. She forced a calm smile. "I understand you're frustrated—"
"Frustrated?" Mrs. Alvarez barked. "I'm furious, incompetent, and if you can't fix this—"
"Please," Rozenn interrupted gently, "my job is to guide you through the process and prepare your case. Mr. Grey is majorly in charge and decision ultimately rests with the judge and the evidence. I'm doing everything I can—"
"Everything you can? Ha! You're just some kid fresh out of law school, aren't you?" Her voice grew louder, echoing off the glass.
Rozenn's throat tightened. She wanted to cry, to storm out, to collapse—and yet she squared her shoulders. "Mrs. Alvarez, I am an assistant with Grey Law Firm. I am here to help. If you prefer, I can arrange for you to meet with Mr. Grey directly."
At the mention of Mr. Grey, Mrs. Alvarez's scowl faltered. She hesitated, eyes flicking to the door. "Fine. Let him come."
Rozenn stepped back and pressed the call button on the wall. Seconds later, Mr. Grey's poised form appeared at the door. He closed it behind him and stood tall, gaze steady on Mrs. Alvarez.
"Mrs. Alvarez," he said quietly. "Aren't you satisfied with our representation?"
Mrs. Alvarez trembled, eyes welling. "I… I'm just scared."
His sternness melted. He stepped closer. "We understand. Our goal is your safety and your justice. If you believe otherwise, you are free to seek counsel elsewhere. But I stand by my team and our work."
She glanced at Rozenn—still standing at attention, unwavering. Mrs. Alvarez lowered her head. "No. No, I'm sorry. I… I apologize."
Mr. Grey nodded crisply. "Then let's proceed." He turned to Rozenn. "Miss Eirwen, please continue."
Rozenn rallied her thoughts, stepping forward. She guided Mrs. Alvarez through the next steps, clarifying dates and affirming her petition. Mrs. Alvarez's shoulders relaxed, tears of relief shining in her eyes.
When it was over, Mr. Grey placed a hand on Rozenn's shoulder—a rare public acknowledgment. He guided Mrs. Alvarez out, offering her reassuring words in a hushed tone.
When the door closed, Rozenn exhaled, tension draining from her limbs.
**************
Rozenn sank into her chair. Kim materialized beside her, along with Lisa and Alan. They all wore sympathetic expressions.
"You handled that remarkably well," Kim said softly, placing a hand on Rozenn's arm.
Lisa nodded firmly. "Clients can be… unpredictable. We've all faced worse."
Alan added, "Don't let one bad apple spoil the bunch."
Soren rested a folder on Rozenn's desk. "Here—your next assignment. Some statutory research. A short break might help."
Rozenn managed a shaky smile. "Thank you, everyone."
Kim passed her a bottle of water. "Drink this. Breathe. Then let's conquer that research."
Rozenn uncapped the water and drank deeply. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat. She set her jaw and opened the new folder: Case #1623—Municipal Code Violation. It was minor compared to the domestic violence and defamation work she'd done earlier, but it needed precision—time to dive back in.
The next half-hour passed in a focused blur. She cross-referenced municipal ordinances, drafted a concise memorandum, and emailed it to Kim for preliminary review.
Just as she hit "send," Mr. Grey's door opened. He stepped out, coat draped over his arm. His gaze lingered on Rozenn before he called, "Miss Eirwen."
She stood and approached. His expression was unreadable. For a moment, her stomach tightened—had she missed something? Had she done something wrong? But then he inclined his head.
"Thank you for handling Mrs. Alvarez's meeting," he said quietly. "Your composure was commendable."
Relief flooded through her. "Thank you, sir."
He tapped his wristwatch. "We are done for the day. You may go home."
She blinked. "Already?"
He nodded. "Go home. Rest."
⸻