The fragile, unspoken ceasefire Julian had enforced the agreement to let the media noise die down lasted exactly two days. On the morning of the third day, Ava walked into her chambers, her head full of Roman contract law and her internal defense mechanism fully operational, only to find Geoffrey Reeve waiting for her in her office, his face pale with concern.
"Ava, we have a crisis," Geoffrey announced, closing the door and leaning against it. Geoffrey was the co-founder of Sinclair & Reeve, a man who had helped Ava's father build the firm, and he only used the word 'crisis' when the situation was genuinely dire.
"What is it?" Ava asked, already pulling out her notepad. She mentally braced for a disciplinary summons from the Bar Council.
"It's the Harrington-Doyle case. The defense counsel they hired has suddenly stepped down due to 'unforeseen personal complications.' It's a complete shock. Their preliminary hearing is in forty-eight hours."
Ava knew the case well. Harrington-Doyle was a prominent, conservative manufacturing firm, a cornerstone of British industry. They were facing a massive breach-of-contract lawsuit from a former supplier, a suit which threatened their critical supply chain agreements. Sinclair & Reeve had been advising them on regulatory compliance, but they hadn't taken the litigation.
"Why did the defense counsel step down?"
"No one knows. Rumour is, they received a highly persuasive offer to not take the case. But that's irrelevant now. Harrington-Doyle called us five minutes ago, practically begging us to step in. They need an iron woman right now, Ava. And you are the only person who can take this fire."
Ava inhaled slowly. It was a massive case, high-stakes, and exactly the kind of challenging litigation she thrived on. It would silence any whispers about her focus or integrity. "I'll review the documents immediately. Get me the preliminary brief."
"That's the other problem," Geoffrey said, pushing off the door. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "The former supplier is being represented by a new, highly aggressive legal team. They've just engaged private counsel for the litigation process."
Ava waited, her pen hovering over the paper. "Who?"
Geoffrey exhaled heavily. "Thornfield Innovations' in-house legal team. Julian Thornfield has bought the supplier's debt, taken over their litigation costs, and is now funding the attack. The goal isn't to win compensation; it's to systematically dismantle Harrington-Doyle's manufacturing capability. It's corporate assassination. And you are going to be facing him, indirectly, in court again."
A cold wave washed over Ava. This wasn't coincidence. This was Julian Thornfield actively inserting himself into her professional life, not as a collaborator, but as a deliberate, tactical opponent. He was challenging her on every field of play.
"He is relentless," Ava muttered, remembering his words from the day before. "Only with things I value." Was this about her? Or about corporate maneuvering? With Julian, the line was always impossible to discern.
"He knows you are the only one they'll call," Geoffrey confirmed, reading the fury on her face. "He is baiting you, Ava. He is challenging you to a duel on his terms, in a timeframe designed to break you."
Ava's professional fear instantly evaporated, replaced by a surge of pure, exhilarating competitive rage. "Then he will find that I fight best when I'm being baited." She closed her notepad with a decisive snap. "Tell Harrington-Doyle we're in. I want every available minute of those forty-eight hours to prepare. And I want to be the one to serve Julian Thornfield's team the initial discovery requests."
The next forty-eight hours were a blur of caffeine, legal briefs, and deep-dive manufacturing analysis. Ava and her small team worked around the clock, constructing a defense based on force majeure and contractual overreach.
The morning of the preliminary hearing found Ava back in the High Court, but in a different room smaller, more focused on arbitration procedure. She felt the same adrenaline surge she always did: the sharpening of focus, the silence of the rest of the world as she prepared to engage.
Julian Thornfield was not in attendance. He rarely bothered with preliminary hearings. His legal representative, a sharp, impeccably dressed woman named Sarah Kendal a solicitor known for her pitbull tenacity was present.
The hearing was procedural, dealing with disclosure and the setting of the trial date. Ava was focused, precise, and utterly professional. She used the hearing to lay the groundwork for a counter-claim, aggressively pressing for disclosure of Thornfield Innovations' true interest in the plaintiff's company.
As the hearing concluded, Ava approached Sarah Kendal, a stack of formal documents in her hand.
"Ms. Kendal," Ava said, her voice polite, "these are our formal requests for discovery, including the full documentation outlining Thornfield Innovations' acquisition of the plaintiff's litigation rights."
Sarah accepted the documents with a frosty smile. "We anticipated this, Ms. Sinclair. And naturally, we will comply fully with all court-ordered disclosure. However, Mr. Thornfield has added a personal note to your package."
Sarah reached into her briefcase and pulled out a single, thin file, bound in leather the same colour as the Roman contract book Julian had sent.
"This is highly irregular," Ava stated, refusing to take the file immediately.
"It is entirely regular, Ms. Sinclair. It's a statement of fact," Sarah countered, pushing the file into Ava's hand. "He wanted you to be the first to read it."
Ava retreated to a quiet bench in the corridor, the expensive leather of the file burning in her hand. She opened it.
The document was titled: DECLARATION OF INTENT: THE HARRINGTON-DOYLE MATTER.
It wasn't a legal pleading. It was a single-page declaration, written with formal precision, yet signed only by Julian Thornfield. It wasn't intended for the court; it was intended only for her.
The text was simple and brutal: