Empire of Sin (Empire #2) by Rina Kent

There’s a shuffle from the other side before the nurse’s voice reaches me. She speaks in English. “She’s a bit tired.”

“Is she okay?”

“Don’t worry. These episodes happen often in cases like hers, but she’ll be fine in a bit. She does ask about you all the time.”

A tinge of guilt wraps a noose around my neck. I should be with her, but I can’t. If they find me with her, they’ll blame her for the whole rebellion I singlehandedly plotted.

This time, they’ll make sure to end her life. In front of me, too, so I’ll learn to never mess with the system.

I hang up after I tell the nurse to call me if anything happens. It takes me a few seconds to gather myself, wipe my eyes, and stop being caught in the memories of the past.

Then, as I do during every lunch break, I take the elevator to the floor where the partners’ offices are.

It’s been a week since I joined W&S and was caught by Knox. Anyone else would do their best to keep their distance. Not me.

My family was a lot of things, but careless wasn’t one of them. I learned early on that the best way to beat an enemy is to learn as much as possible about them.

Their daily habits, their morning routines, and even their night ones. That’s where their weaknesses lie.

In the habits. In the routines.

That’s why I hacked into his computer, his phone, and his car’s GPS. What? I needed to know what he was up to at all times. And yes, that might sound a little bit stalkerish, but he messed with me first. He threatened me first.

No one threatens me and gets away with it. No one.

I shake my head at that. I really sound like them right now, even though I’ve done everything possible to be separated from them.

In my digging about, I discovered that his father isn’t his biological one, but he’s still the foster son of a powerhouse English businessman, Ethan Steel, and has a twin and a foster sister. Said foster sister married into the King family, which is another influential name in the UK.

He comes from money and power, something I should’ve expected, but it still makes me antsy. I hate those two words. Money and power. They belong to the world I escaped from.

And I need to escape his orbit, too. Because even though he didn’t pay me a visit, I can feel him biding his time, waiting, pining for the right moment to attack.

If anyone is going to do that first, it’ll be me.

So I head to the open office area that situates the interns, junior associates, and some paralegals. The junior partners’ offices are on the opposite side, where they can overlook the interns if they open their blinds.

Knox’s are always open, giving everyone a 3D view through the glass wall of his office. It’s like he has nothing to hide.

And he doesn’t. From what I’ve learned, he’s a ruthless criminal defense attorney and is always in demand, probably because of his offensive style in court.

He’s known to be provocative, even toward the victims, which has earned him a notorious reputation. Naturally, he gets a lot of case requests, but I also found out that he refuses about eighty percent of them. Another thing that’s bizarre for lawyers, but apparently, the founding partners of W&S give him free rein on that. Which I assume is why he refused every other firm’s offer to join them.

When I come here, I pretend to be getting a coffee from the break area that’s dedicated to the staff and try to gauge if anything is different.

Usually, there’s nothing, and I’d have to sneak out before he notices me.

Today, however, is different.

The moment I step out of the elevator, the sound of hushed murmurs reaches me in waves. I slowly inch forward to find a small crowd watching a scene.

And the location is Knox’s office.

A girl stands in the middle, wearing a pale violet dress and matching heels. Her face is red and even from a distance, I can see the tears and anguish in her eyes.

She’s a myriad of motions; her hands flailing around as she talks, then she hugs herself and more tears follow.

My spine snaps in a line at the scene. It’s so similar to Mom’s when she was married to my abusive stepfather.

The self-comfort. The involuntary jerking. Even the tears that don’t seem to be planned.

In the midst of her small breakdown, Knox sits behind his desk, fingers forming a steeple at his chin, listening.

There’s not an ounce of emotion on his hard face. Not even the fake empathy some people wear as a façade.

He’s in his true element. Unfeeling. Completely detached from her anguish as if she and her grief don’t exist.

My nails dig into the heels of my palms as I clench my fists. Is that how my mom felt with Papa?

That he was too emotionless to feel for her?

That no matter how much she cried, he’d never see those tears or her pain? Is that why she refused to ask him for help?

“Twenty bucks says that he’ll reject her,” one of the interns, a brunette with darker skin, says.

“Call,” her colleague, a tall ginger male replies. “I say that he’ll accept her case.”

“No way.” The brunette shakes her head. “He hasn’t moved during her entire speech.”

“He’s just listening to the facts like he always does.” The ginger waves two bills. “Who’s with me?”

Not many are. A debate breaks out among them about how Knox doesn’t accept many cases and that he’s been on a rejection spree lately.