Monday mornings at the Miami PD were rarely quiet, but this one carried a peculiar buzz. The bullpen was alive with chatter, computer keys clacking, and steaming coffee cups clutched like lifelines. The buzz today wasn't just about crime stats it was about him.
Leah Moore sat at her desk, eyes flicking between her watch and the door.
"Quarter past nine," she muttered. "Told you. The spoiled brat's not showing."
Detective Torres Hill leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Ferraris don't run on discipline. You expected him to be on time? He's probably nursing a hangover in Monaco."
Ben Kim chimed in from behind his monitor. "I bet ten bucks he ghosted. Celebrities hate structure."
Leah rolled her eyes. "This isn't a red carpet premiere. This is a department that's stretched thin already. We don't need a walking scandal slowing us down."
As if summoned by the weight of disbelief, a low, throaty engine growled outside the station.
Heads turned toward the windows. Phones came out. A sleek black Bugatti Chiron rolled to a perfect stop right in front of the precinct.
"Is that…?" Ben stood and pressed a hand to the window.
The moment was surreal.
A long crimson carpet had been rolled out on the steps. Officers lined both sides, and beyond them stood Chief Morales, flanked by a camera crew and reporters.
Jason Walker stepped out of the Bugatti wearing a custom-cut navy suit and dark aviators. The cameras flashed. His expression? All smirk and no apology.
Leah stared, amused. "You've got to be kidding me."
Torres gave a low whistle. "It's his first day... and they rolled out an actual carpet?"
Chief Morales strode forward, arms outstretched, as if Jason were royalty.
"Jason! Glad you could join us." His handshake was firm, his smile wide for the press, at least. "The city's grateful for your... courageous decision."
Jason nodded slightly, removing his glasses. "Anything to serve justice," he said dryly, earning a few chuckles from the reporters.
A guided tour followed Jason being shown around the department like a visiting dignitary. Cameras trailed him, and every few feet an officer gave him a half-hearted salute. Most were curious. Some were annoyed. All were confused.
Then came the final part of the stunt.
"Walker will be shadowing one of our best teams," the Chief announced, raising his voice for the press. "He'll be embedded for the next few weeks under the leadership of Detective Leah Moore."
Leah's eyes widened. "What?"
Jason turned to face her, and for the briefest moment, their eyes met across the bullpen.
She broke contact first.
"No, sir," she said, stepping forward. "With all due respect, my team is in the middle of a serious operation. We don't need distractions or reality TV drama."
Jason quirked a brow. "Reality TV? Ouch."
The Chief's voice dropped to a warning tone. "This comes directly from the Mayor's office, Detective. It's not a request."
Leah bit her tongue. Her glare could've melted steel. Jason, meanwhile, looked smug. He gave a half-wave to her team.
"Can't wait to bond," he said cheerfully.
As the crowd dispersed and the cameras left, Jason found a quiet hallway, escaping the noise. For a moment, the arrogance dropped from his face. He leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes.
Then the memory came. FLASHBACK- Fifteen Years Ago, A 13-year-old Jason sat beside his mother, Anna, on the balcony of a modest condo overlooking the beach.
"Don't let the world decide who you are, Jason," she said gently. "They'll label you before you even speak. But you? You get to choose. Every day."
He looked down. "What if I mess up? What if Dad never wants me?"
Anna held his hand tightly. "Then you become the kind of man he wishes he hadn't lost. The best version of yourself, even if no one claps for it."
She kissed his forehead. "Promise me. Be someone you'd admire, even if no one else does."
Jason opened his eyes slowly. His jaw tightened. He stood straighter, checked his reflection in the glass panel beside him, and walked back into the bullpen.
He wasn't doing this for Andrew. Not for the company.
He was doing it for her. For the woman who raised him when the world didn't care he existed.
Later that afternoon, the team prepared for their first joint assignment surveying a suspect's hideout in Little Havana.
Leah had barely spoken to Jason except for issuing cold, clipped instructions. He followed, quiet but watchful.
As they walked down the back hallway toward the vehicle bay, Leah read something on her tablet, her steps fast and focused.
Jason walked a few paces behind, arms folded, amused. "You always this grumpy, or is it just my charm?"
Leah didn't respond.
She turned the corner didn't see the cracked floor tile ahead.
Her foot twisted.
She gasped, stumbling.
Jason lunged forward without thinking.
His arm wrapped around her waist just in time to stop the fall. Her tablet hit the floor, clattering.
Leah blinked, her face inches from his.
His grip was steady, strong. Protective.
For the first time, the sarcasm dropped from his eyes. What remained was something else concern, and a softness he rarely showed.
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, the world around them slowed.
No flashing lights. No viral scandals. No grudges.
Just two people caught in a flicker of unexpected connection.
Leah's voice came, quiet and conflicted. "You can let go now."
Jason hesitated... then gently released her.
She stepped back, clearing her throat, reaching for her tablet.
Jason shoved his hands into his pockets, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Guess I'm not entirely useless after all, huh?"
Leah shot him a sideways glare but it didn't land as hard as before.
And just like that, the air between them shifted.
Not softened. But cracked just enough for something new to slip through.