Marcus arrived at the office at 6:30 AM on Tuesday, beating even the most dedicated associates by at least an hour. The thirtieth floor was eerily quiet, just the hum of computers and the distant sound of a cleaning crew finishing their rounds.
He liked it this way. Silence meant focus, and focus meant work.
He'd spent the night reviewing Louis's three active cases, and he'd found something interesting in each one. The contract dispute had a clause that the opposing counsel had overlooked entirely. The stalled merger had a regulatory workaround that no one had considered. And the wrongful termination suit had a witness whose testimony would dismantle the plaintiff's entire case.
Marcus was drafting his recommendations when he heard footsteps approaching.
Mike Ross appeared around the corner, carrying a coffee cup and looking like he hadn't slept. He stopped when he saw Marcus, surprise flashing across his face.
"You're here early," Mike said.
"You're here early too," Marcus observed. "Harvey working you hard already?"
"Something like that." Mike hesitated, then walked over to Marcus's desk. "Look, about yesterday—"
"You don't need to apologize for Harvey's ego," Marcus interrupted. "He's your boss. You're loyal to him. I respect that."
"I wasn't going to apologize." Mike set his coffee down. "I was going to tell you that you're making a mistake underestimating him."
"I'm not underestimating anyone." Marcus saved his document and closed his laptop. "I'm just not intimidated by reputation. Harvey Specter is good. I'm better. That's not arrogance, it's math."
"Math?" Mike laughed, but it was strained. "You've been here two days."
"And in those two days, I've already solved a case that Harvey missed critical details on. How long do I need to be here before you accept that maybe I'm actually as good as I say I am?"
Mike studied him for a moment, and Marcus could see the calculation happening behind his eyes. Mike was trying to figure out if Marcus was bluffing, if this confidence was absolute or manufactured.
"You want to know what I think?" Mike said, finally.
"Not particularly, but I assume you're going to tell me anyway."
"I think you're talented. Maybe even brilliant. But I also think you're playing a dangerous game." Mike leaned against the desk. "This firm runs on relationships and loyalty. You've allied yourself with Louis against Harvey. That's going to create enemies."
"I already have enemies," Marcus said. "Harvey made sure of that yesterday in Conference Room B."
"That was Harvey testing you."
"And I passed." Marcus stood, grabbing his files. "Mike, I appreciate the concern, but I don't need career advice from someone who's been here almost exactly as long as I have. You play your game with Harvey, and I'll play mine with Louis. We'll see who ends up winning."
"It's not a game, Marcus."
"Everything's a game," Marcus said. "The law is just the rulebook."
He walked toward Louis's office, leaving Mike standing at his desk with an expression that suggested he couldn't decide if Marcus was a genius or a disaster waiting to happen.
Probably both, Marcus thought.
Louis arrived at 7:15 AM, looking harried and already talking on his phone.
"No, Gerald, I told you, the compliance reforms are non-negotiable. The FDA was very clear about that." He waved Marcus into his office. "Yes. Yes, I'll have the paperwork to you by noon. Goodbye."
He hung up and collapsed into his chair. "Client wants to renegotiate the compliance terms. Thinks he can charm the FDA into accepting less stringent reforms."
"He can't," Marcus said, sitting down across from Louis. "The FDA's settlement framework specifically requires third-party auditing and executive accountability. If Rayburn tries to water it down, the FDA will pull the agreement and restart the investigation."
"That's what I told him." Louis rubbed his temples. "Sometimes I wonder if clients actually want to win or if they just want to feel like they're in control."
"They want both," Marcus said. "Which is why we need to make them feel like the compliance reforms were their idea." He pulled out his laptop. "I drafted a memo that frames the reforms as Rayburn's proactive response to 'evolving industry standards.' Instead of the FDA forcing compliance, we position Rayburn as industry leaders in pharmaceutical safety."
Louis read the memo, and his expression shifted from tired to impressed. "This is good. This is really good. Send it to Rayburn's CEO with my signature."
"Already done. I sent it fifteen minutes ago."
Louis looked up from the laptop. "You sent it before showing it to me?"
"You would have approved it," Marcus said confidently. "And the client needed to receive it before his morning meeting with his board. Timing matters."
For a moment, Marcus wondered if he'd overstepped. Louis was his boss, and Marcus had just made the decision without explicit approval. But then Louis smiled—not his usual nervous smile, but something genuine.
"Harvey's associates would never do that," Louis said. "They'd wait for permission, triple-check everything, make sure Harvey signed off on every comma. You... act."
"Is that a problem?"
"No." Louis closed the laptop. "No, it's exactly what I need. Initiative. Confidence. The willingness to make decisions and stand by them." He paused. "Just don't make me look bad."
"I won't."
TRUE. Marcus meant it. Louis had given him an opportunity when he could have dismissed him as too arrogant or risky. Marcus owed him results.
"Good." Louis stood, grabbing his jacket. "Because we have a meeting with Jessica in twenty minutes. She wants an update on all active cases."
Marcus felt a spike of adrenaline. A meeting with the managing partner on his second day? That was either very good or very bad.
"What's the agenda?" Marcus asked.
"Officially? Case review and strategic planning." Louis straightened his tie in the reflection of his office window. "Unofficially? Jessica wants to see if yesterday was a fluke or if you're actually as good as I told her you were."
"I'm better than you told her I was," Marcus said, grabbing his files. "Let's go prove it."
Jessica's office was on the forty-third floor, a space that made even Harvey's corner office look modest. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls, art that was probably worth more than Marcus's annual salary, and furniture that belonged in a museum.
Jessica sat behind her desk, perfectly composed, reviewing documents with the kind of focus that suggested she'd already worked through three meetings before 8 AM.
Harvey was already there, standing by the windows with Mike beside him. Of course he was. This wasn't just a case review; this was a competition.
"Louis, Marcus," Jessica said without looking up. "Sit."
They sat on the opposite side of the desk from Harvey and Mike. Marcus could feel the tension in the room, thick enough to cut.
Jessica finally looked up, her eyes moving between the two junior partners and their respective associates.
"Gentlemen, let's make this simple," she said. "I have three major cases that need resolution this week: a merger, a lawsuit, and a contract dispute. Harvey, you'll take the lawsuit. Louis, you'll take the merger. The contract dispute goes to whichever team impresses me more in the next ten minutes."
Marcus felt Louis tense beside him. This was a direct competition, and the prize was a potentially lucrative case.
"Harvey," Jessica continued, "tell me about the Galway lawsuit."
Harvey stepped forward with the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times. "A former employee is suing Galway Technologies for sexual harassment. The plaintiff alleges three incidents over six months, culminating in her termination when she reported the behavior. We're representing Galway."
"Defense strategy?" Jessica asked.
"Undermine the plaintiff's credibility," Harvey said. "She has a history of job-hopping—five positions in seven years. We paint her as someone who creates problems and moves on when things don't work out. We also have emails showing she was underperforming before the alleged harassment began, which suggests the termination was performance-based, not retaliatory."
Jessica nodded. "Mike, what concerns you about this approach?"
Mike straightened slightly, clearly not expecting to be called on. "The job-hopping could backfire. If we attack her credibility too hard, it looks like we're blaming the victim. A jury might sympathize with her, especially if the harassment allegations are credible."
"They're not," Harvey said.
"How do you know?" Mike asked.
"Because I've been doing this longer than you have," Harvey said, his tone sharp.
The room went quiet. Marcus saw Jessica's expression harden slightly; she didn't appreciate Harvey dismissing his own associate in front of her.
"Louis," Jessica said, deliberately moving on. "The merger."
Louis stood, and Marcus could see him trying to project confidence. "Kendrick Industries is acquiring VitaTech Solutions. The deal is stalled because VitaTech has ongoing litigation that's creating valuation uncertainty. We need to resolve the litigation before the merger can proceed."
"How long will that take?" Jessica asked.
"Six to eight months if we litigate. Two to three if we settle."
"The buyer wants the merger completed in four months," Jessica said. "Those timelines don't work."
Marcus saw Louis falter, saw him searching for an answer that wouldn't make him look incompetent.
"What if we structured the merger differently?" Marcus said, and every eye in the room turned to him.
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
Marcus stood and moved to the whiteboard on Jessica's wall. "The litigation is creating uncertainty because we don't know the outcome or the damages. But we can quantify that uncertainty through an escrow structure." He drew a quick diagram. "Kendrick acquires VitaTech now, but a portion of the purchase price—say, twenty percent—goes into escrow. If VitaTech wins the litigation or settles favorably, it gets the escrow funds. If they lose or settle poorly, Kendrick gets compensated from the escrow. The uncertainty becomes a mathematical problem instead of a dealbreaker."
Jessica studied the diagram. "That's creative."
"It's also risky," Harvey said. "If the litigation goes badly, Kendrick is still on the hook for eighty percent of the purchase price for a company that just lost a major lawsuit."
"True," Marcus acknowledged. "Which is why we'd also negotiate a 'material adverse change' clause that allows Kendrick to renegotiate or withdraw if the litigation damages exceed a certain threshold. They're protected, VitaTech gets certainty, and the deal closes on schedule."
"That's a lot of moving parts," Mike said.
"Yes, it is," Marcus agreed. "But it's better than telling our client to wait eight months and hope opposing counsel doesn't drag things out even longer."
Jessica wrote something on her notepad. Marcus couldn't see what it was, but he caught the slight smile at the corner of her mouth.
"The contract dispute," Jessica said, setting down her pen. "This is the case I'm using to decide which team gets the extra work. Hexagon Energy is in breach of a supply contract with Morrison Steel. Morrison is suing for fifteen million in damages. Hexagon claims the contract is invalid due to mutual mistake, both parties allegedly misunderstood the pricing structure."
"That's a weak defense," Harvey said immediately. "Mutual mistake is nearly impossible to prove. Hexagon signed a contract they didn't like, and now they're trying to get out of it. We should represent Morrison, enforce the contract, and take the fifteen million."
"Marcus?" Jessica asked. "Your analysis?"
Marcus pulled up the mental file he'd already created on this case. He'd seen it mentioned in Louis's active cases last night and had researched it out of curiosity.
"Harvey's right that mutual mistake is hard to prove," Marcus said. "But he's wrong about which client we should represent. Hexagon has deeper pockets and a longer relationship with this firm. If we represent Morrison and win, we get our fee from the fifteen-million-dollar judgment. If we represent Hexagon and win, we keep a major client who'll give us ongoing work for years."
"You can't win representing Hexagon," Harvey said. "The contract is clear."
"The contract is clear about pricing," Marcus agreed. "But it's unclear about delivery schedules. Morrison agreed to deliver steel every quarter, but the contract doesn't specify penalties for late delivery. I'd argue that Morrison's repeated late deliveries constitute a material breach that voids Hexagon's obligations."
Harvey's expression darkened. "That's a stretch."
"It's a winnable stretch," Marcus countered. "And even if we don't win on material breach, we use it as leverage to negotiate a settlement that's favorable to Hexagon. Instead of paying fifteen million, they pay five million and restructure the contract with better terms. Morrison gets some compensation, Hexagon stays solvent, and we keep both clients happy."
Jessica leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Harvey, your rebuttal?"
"Marcus is prioritizing client relationships over winning," Harvey said. "That's a mistake. Our reputation is built on winning cases, not making clients feel good. If we represent Hexagon and lose, we look weak. If we represent Morrison and win, we look like closers."
"And if we represent Morrison and Hexagon fires us as a client?" Marcus asked. "We win fifteen million once and lose millions in future billable hours. That's not strategy, that's short-term thinking."
Harvey turned to face Marcus directly. "You've been here two days, and you think you know better than me about client relationships?"
"I think I know math," Marcus said calmly. "Long-term revenue beats short-term wins. Always."
"Enough," Jessica said, her voice cutting through the tension. "Harvey, you and Mike will represent Morrison Steel in the lawsuit. Louis, you and Marcus will represent Hexagon Energy. Whoever wins gets the contract dispute case and a twenty percent bonus on their quarterly billables."
Marcus felt Louis's hand grip his arm, excitement and pressure in equal measure.
"Court date is in three weeks," Jessica continued. "Prepare accordingly. Dismissed."
Harvey walked out without a word, Mike trailing behind him. As they passed, Mike caught Marcus's eye and mouthed two words: You're dead.
Marcus smiled and mouthed back: Prove it.
Louis practically ran back to his office, Marcus following at a more measured pace.
"Do you realize what you just did?" Louis said, closing the door behind them. "You got us a direct competition against Harvey. In front of Jessica. With a bonus on the line."
"I'm aware," Marcus said.
"If we lose—"
"We won't lose."
"Harvey doesn't lose, Marcus. That's his whole thing. He's the best closer in New York because he doesn't lose."
Marcus sat down, completely calm. "Then it's time someone beat him."
Louis paced the office, his nervous energy filling the space. "You said we'd argue material breach based on delivery schedules. Can we actually prove Morrison delivered late?"
"I'll have proof by the end of the day," Marcus said. "I'll need access to Hexagon's receiving logs and Morrison's shipping records. Once I cross-reference the dates, we'll have a clear pattern of late deliveries."
"And if there is no pattern?"
"There is," Marcus said with absolute certainty. "Morrison Steel has been operating at capacity for the past two years. The industry-standard delivery time for steel products is 6 to 8 weeks. I'd bet Morrison has been consistently delivering in ten to twelve weeks. That's a material breach."
"You'd bet our case on that?"
"I'd bet my career on it," Marcus said. "Because I'm right."
Louis stopped pacing and looked at Marcus with an expression that was part admiration, part terror. "You're either going to make me a legend or get us both fired."
"I'm going to make you a legend," Marcus said. "Just trust me."
The rest of the day was a blur of research and preparation. Marcus pulled every piece of documentation related to the Hexagon-Morrison contract. Shipping records, receiving logs, email correspondence, and financial statements. He cross-referenced delivery dates against contract terms, industry standards, and comparable agreements.
By 6 PM, he had exactly what he needed.
Morrison Steel had been consistently late on deliveries for the past eighteen months. Not egregiously late—usually one to two weeks behind schedule—but late enough to constitute a pattern. And more importantly, the cumulative delays had cost Hexagon millions in lost production time.
Material breach. Clear as day.
Marcus was drafting the motion when his phone rang. Unknown number again.
He answered. "Marcus Cole."
"Mr. Cole, this is Rachel Zane. I'm a senior paralegal."
Marcus sat up slightly. Why would a paralegal be calling him?
"What can I do for you, Ms. Zane?"
"I wanted to give you a heads up," Rachel said, her voice low. "Harvey just assigned Mike to dig into your background. Academic records, prior employment, everything. He's looking for something he can use against you."
"Why are you telling me this?"
There was a pause. "Because what Harvey's doing isn't fair. You won the Rayburn case on merit. You shouldn't have to deal with him trying to destroy you because his ego can't handle losing."
Marcus processed this. Rachel Zane was risking her position with Harvey to warn him. That suggested either she had principles that outweighed her loyalty, or she was setting him up for something.
"I appreciate the warning," Marcus said carefully. "But my background is clean. There's nothing for Mike to find."
"I hope you're right," Rachel said. "Good luck, Mr. Cole."
She hung up.
Marcus set down his phone and stared at it for a moment. Harvey was going on the offensive, trying to find dirt. That was expected. What wasn't expected was that Rachel would warn him about it.
This firm was more complicated than he'd anticipated.
His phone buzzed with a text from Mike:
Harvey wants to meet tomorrow morning. 8 AM. Conference Room A. Both teams. Pre-trial discussion.
Marcus typed back:
See you there.
He went back to work, drafting motions and preparing arguments. The case against Morrison Steel was winnable, but it would require perfect execution. One mistake, one overlooked detail, and Harvey would destroy them in court.
But Marcus didn't make mistakes.
He worked until midnight, until every argument was airtight, every precedent was cited, every potential counterargument was anticipated and neutralized.
When he finally left the office, the building was dark except for a few scattered lights. He took the elevator down, his mind already running through tomorrow's meeting with Harvey.
As he walked out into the Manhattan night, Marcus allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Two days at Pearson Hardman, and he'd already:
Solved a significant case that Harvey had missed. Impressed the managing partner. Secured a direct competition against the firm's best closer, making himself a target for Harvey Specter's revenge
Most people would be terrified.
Marcus was energized.
Because this was precisely what he'd wanted. The challenge, the pressure, the high-stakes game where one wrong move could end his career.
Harvey Specter might be the best closer in New York.
But Marcus Cole was about to prove he was something better: inevitable.
And when they faced off in court in three weeks, the entire firm would see precisely what that meant.