New York didn't explode.
It recalculated.
The morning after Blackcrest's collapse, boardrooms across Manhattan went quiet. Not calm—quiet. The kind of quiet that only comes when powerful people realize the rules have changed and no one sent them the memo.
Ace Charles's name was everywhere.
Not shouted.Not celebrated.Whispered.
Harvey Specter watched the city from his office window, coffee untouched.
"They're scared," he said.
Ace stood beside him, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. "They should be."
Downstairs, senior partners from three major firms were already calling, requesting meetings under the pretense of "collaboration."
Louis Litt burst in, holding his phone like it had personally offended him.
"I just got invited to a charity gala," Louis said. "Hosted by people who sued us last year."
Harvey smirked. "Apologies taste better when they're desperate."
Ace turned from the window. "This isn't apology."
Jessica Pearson entered, composed as ever. "No," she agreed. "It's positioning.
Fight #372Opponent: Reputation inertiaStatus: Overwhelmed
At a private club on the Upper East Side, the mood was darker.
Men with generational money and women with political reach sat in uneasy silence.
"He dismantled Blackcrest in under three weeks," one man said quietly.
"That was supposed to be impossible," another replied.
A third leaned forward. "He's twenty-something."
"No," someone corrected. "He's inevitable."
Ace Charles had crossed an invisible line.
He was no longer a prodigy.
He was a problem.
That night, Ace attended his first post-Blackcrest event.
No announcement.No entourage.Just presence.
Heads turned.
Conversations stopped.
Eyes followed him across the room.
Evelyn Vale arrived moments later, effortlessly commanding attention—and yet, when she reached Ace's side, the attention shifted.
Power recognized power.
"You're famous now," she murmured.
Ace glanced at the room. "No. I'm acknowledged."
Fight #381Opponent: Social hierarchyStatus: Rewritten