The bell above the coffee shop door chimed softly as I pushed it open, the scent of dark roast and caramel wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. The hum of quiet conversation and the clink of ceramic cups filled the air, but my focus was laser-sharp—Lorena.
The coffee shop’s dim lighting cast long shadows across the tables, the scent of freshly ground beans mingling with the faintest hint of Lorena’s perfume—something expensive, something dangerous.
She sat in the corner, her posture elegant and untouchable, fingers drumming lightly against the tabletop. The contract lay between us like a challenge, her dark eyes locking onto mine as I approached.
I slid into the chair across from her, my voice smooth and unhurried. "Hello, Lorena."
She didn’t bother with pleasantries. Instead, she pushed the contract across the table, her manicured fingers tapping the paper. "Sign it."
I didn’t even glance at the pages. Just uncapped my pen and scrawled my signature at the bottom with a flourish. "Done."
Lorena raised an eyebrow, her voice dry and amused. "Aren’t you afraid of shady tricks?"
I leaned back in my chair, my lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. "I trust you."
Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, maybe even a hint of flattery—before she masked it with her usual cool composure. "You won’t regret it."
"I never do," I replied, my tone light but final.
That got a reaction. A flicker of something—surprise? amusement?—before she schooled her expression into that unreadable mask she wore so well.
I paused, my mind shifting to Sarah, to the raw, unfiltered pain in her eyes, to the way she’d pushed me away like I was the villain. Then I looked back at Lorena, a new idea forming. "Do you want a high-profile case, Lorena? The kind that makes headlines for decades?"
Her posture shifted, interest piqued. "What kind of case?"
I held up a finger, pulling out my phone. "Wait."
My fingers moved swiftly over the screen, commanding SERA to compile everything—Sarah’s case, the corrupt cops, the money trails, the evidence linking them all to Javier.
The document materialized in seconds, a meticulous dossier of names, photos, call records, chats—every dirty secret laid bare in stark, undeniable detail.
And then I saw him.
The old man—the one who had delivered the news about Peter’s death—his name right there, alongside Diaz and a half-dozen other cops from Sarah’s unit.
The call records were damning: Diaz feeding Sarah’s movements to Javier’s men, the money trail proving he’d been on the payroll for years.
A slow, satisfied smirk spread across my face.
I forwarded the document to Lorena’s email. "Check it out."
She didn’t hesitate. Her phone chimed, and she pulled it out, her expression shifting from curiosity to shock as she scrolled. I ordered a coffee, taking a slow sip as I watched her eyes widen, her fingers tighten around the device.
"Is this a joke?" she asked, her voice low, disbelieving.
"Do I look like I’m joking?"
She didn’t answer, her gaze flicking between me and the screen. "This is... everything. Names, dates, money trails, recordings—" She shook her head. "This isn’t just a case. This is a nuclear bomb."
"Exactly," I said, my voice smooth, confident.
She exhaled sharply, her mind racing. "If I take this to trial..." She trailed off, her voice tinged with awe. "I’d be the angel of Mexico."
"And?" I prompted, my tone encouraging.
"And the target of every corrupt bastard in the system," she snapped, her voice sharp with annoyance. "Javier doesn’t just have cops in his pocket. He has judges, prosecutors, politicians—"
I cut her off, my voice low, unshaken. "So?"
"So?" She repeated, her voice rising. "You think this is simple? That I can just waltz into a courtroom and dismantle an empire?"
I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a velvet growl. "Your father is the Chief Justice," I smirked. "Or did you forget?"
Her eyes flashed, but I saw the calculation behind them. "You’re serious."
"Deadly," I murmured.
She stared at me, her fingers drumming against the table. "How did you get this?"
I shrugged, my voice casual. "I have my ways."
"Bullshit," she snapped. "This is too detailed. Too perfect. There’s no way you just—" She gestured vaguely. "—stumbled onto this."
I took another sip of coffee, my gaze locking onto hers. "What’s there to stumble over?" My lips quirked. "I know everything."
She snorted, her eyes narrowing. "Now you’re just bragging."
"Am I?" I leaned back, my voice teasing. "I even know what color your underwear is."
Her breath hitched, her eyes going wide before she masked it with a skeptical glare. "I seriously doubt that."
I didn’t blink. Instead, I activated the AI Lens, my gaze flicking over her for the briefest second. The system scanned, analyzed, and delivered.
Dark blue. Lace.
I smirked. "Blue. Lace."
Lorena froze, her cheeks flushing as her eyes dropped to her clothes, as if she could spot a hidden camera. When she found nothing, her gaze snapped back to me, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. "You bastard..."
I chuckled, my voice innocent, teasing. "Lucky guess."
"Bullshit," she hissed, but there was no real heat in it—just amusement, just the spark of challenge.
"Prove it," I dared, my smirk deepening.
She laughed, the sound low and rich, her eyes dark with intrigue. "Oh, I will."
I leaned in, my voice a whisper against her ear. "I’m looking forward to it."
She shivered, but recovered quickly, her voice sharp. "You’re impossible."
"And yet," I murmured, "you’re still here."
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the smirk she tried to hide. "Only because you finally gave me something useful."
I grinned, pushing back my chair and standing. "Handle the case, Lorena." My voice dropped, serious for the first time. "Make Javier wish he’d never been born."
She nodded, her expression shifting back to professional determination. "I will."
I turned to leave, but paused, glancing back at her. "And Lorena?"
"Yes?"
"Wear red next time." I winked. "I like a challenge."
She rolled her eyes, but I saw the smirk she couldn’t quite hide. "Get out, Jack."