Michael Sinclair's penthouse apartment in downtown Los Angeles offered a panoramic view of the city he'd come to dominate, one courtroom at a time. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the sprawling metropolis like a living painting, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the urban landscape.
He stood before his walk-in closet, still damp from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. The "victory suit" was a personal tradition—a superstition he'd never admit to anyone but indulged in private. After every major win, he wore the same outfit to the office the next day: a navy Brioni suit, crisp white shirt, and a particular red Hermès tie. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he'd worn it after his first big win as a junior associate, and now, fifteen victories later, he couldn't break the streak.
As he dressed, Michael's mind cycled through what he knew about Daniel Chen's situation. The SEC didn't target companies like QuantumSphere without substantial evidence. If they were building a case against Daniel personally, they believed they had something solid. Insider trading was notoriously difficult to prove without a paper trail or a cooperating witness.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Emma Sinclair—his younger sister and the only person who could get away with calling instead of texting.
"I saw the news," Emma said when he answered. "Another corporate criminal walks free, thanks to my brother's silver tongue."
"Hello to you too, Em." Michael smiled despite himself. "And Carson Medical isn't a criminal enterprise. They made a mistake."
"A mistake that killed seventeen people."
"Which is why they're paying millions in civil settlements." He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he knotted his tie. "The criminal case was overreach by an ambitious DA looking to make headlines."
Emma sighed. "You always have an answer, don't you?"
"It's what they pay me for." He paused. "How are things at the hospital?"
"Understaffed, underfunded, and overflowing with patients who can't afford care elsewhere." Emma was a psychiatrist at County-USC Medical Center, serving the city's most vulnerable populations. "The usual."
"You could join a private practice. Make three times the money, work half the hours."
"And abandon the people who need help the most? No thanks." Her voice softened. "Not everyone measures success by their billing rate, Michael."
It was an old argument, one that had started when Michael chose corporate law over the public defender's office after graduation. Emma had never understood his choices—or pretended not to. Sometimes Michael suspected she saw through him more clearly than he'd like.
"Dad called," she said, changing the subject. "He saw you on the news too."
Michael's jaw tightened. "What did the honorable judge have to say about my latest travesty of justice?"
"He didn't call it that." Emma paused. "He asked if you were coming to his retirement dinner next month."
"I'm busy that night."
"I didn't tell you which night."
"I'm busy every night when it comes to Thomas Sinclair's retirement celebration." Michael checked his watch. "I have to go, Em. New client waiting."
"Michael—"
"We'll talk later. Love you." He ended the call before she could press the issue.
His relationship with his father—the esteemed Superior Court Judge Thomas Sinclair—had been strained for years. The judge had made his disappointment clear when Michael chose to represent "the powerful against the powerless," as he'd put it. The fact that Michael had become one of the most successful attorneys in Los Angeles meant nothing to a man who measured worth by different standards.
Michael pushed the thought aside as he slipped on his suit jacket. He had more immediate concerns—like keeping Daniel Chen out of federal prison.
Thirty minutes later, Michael strode through the gleaming glass doors of Wakefield & Lowell, occupying the top five floors of a downtown skyscraper. The reception area was designed to intimidate: soaring ceilings, marble floors, and a wall of awards and recognitions that silently communicated to clients that they were in the presence of legal royalty—and would be billed accordingly.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Sinclair," the receptionist greeted him with a practiced smile. "Ms. Wellington is waiting for you in the main conference room. Shall I tell her you've arrived?"
"No need, Vanessa. I'll surprise her." Michael winked, earning a genuine smile in return.
He made his way through the office, nodding to associates who looked up from their work as he passed. The hallways were lined with original artwork—no reproductions for Wakefield & Lowell—and the carpet was thick enough to muffle footsteps, creating an atmosphere of hushed importance.
Michael paused outside the conference room, taking a moment to observe through the glass wall. Katherine Wellington sat at the head of the massive table, her silver-blonde hair cut in a severe bob that framed her angular face. At fifty-three, she was still striking, with the kind of cold beauty that had served her well in a profession dominated by men. Beside her sat James Wakefield III, son of the firm's founder, his patrician features set in their usual expression of mild disdain.
Across from them was Daniel Chen, looking decidedly uncomfortable in a suit that probably cost more than most people's cars but somehow seemed ill-fitting on his lanky frame. Daniel had always been more at home in hoodies and jeans, even after becoming a billionaire. Next to him sat a woman Michael didn't recognize—early thirties, with dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail and sharp, assessing eyes that suggested she missed nothing.
Michael pushed open the door, and all heads turned toward him.
"Sorry to keep everyone waiting," he said, though he wasn't sorry at all. Making an entrance was part of the Sinclair mystique.
Daniel stood immediately, relief washing over his features. "Michael. Thank God."
They embraced briefly—a gesture that raised Katherine's eyebrows fractionally. Displays of genuine affection were rare at Wakefield & Lowell.
"Daniel. It's been too long." Michael turned to Katherine. "I came as soon as I could. The Carson verdict just came in."
"We heard," Katherine replied. "Congratulations. The firm is pleased."
Coming from Katherine, this was effusive praise. Michael took a seat beside Daniel, directly across from Katherine and James.
"Michael, this is Sophia Chen," Daniel said, indicating the woman beside him. "My general counsel."
"No relation," Sophia added with a small smile, extending her hand. Her grip was firm, her gaze direct. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Sinclair."
"All of it true, I'm sure," Michael replied. "Especially the good parts."
Katherine cleared her throat. "Now that we're all here, perhaps Mr. Chen could explain the situation."
Daniel nodded, his expression growing serious. "Three days ago, I received a target letter from the SEC. They're investigating QuantumSphere for securities fraud and me personally for insider trading."
"What's the basis for their investigation?" Michael asked.
"They claim I sold ten million dollars in company stock two weeks before we announced a delay in our Q7 processor, which caused our share price to drop eighteen percent."
Michael leaned back in his chair. "Did you?"
"Sell the stock? Yes. Know about the delay before it was public? Absolutely not." Daniel ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Michael, you know me. I built QuantumSphere from nothing. It's my life's work. I would never do anything to harm it."
"The SEC doesn't care about your personal ethics," James Wakefield interjected, his voice carrying the refined accent of old money and expensive schools. "They care about patterns and appearances. And the pattern here is troubling."
"What James means," Katherine added more diplomatically, "is that the timing creates a presumption we'll need to overcome."
"It was a scheduled sale," Sophia Chen explained. "Part of Daniel's regular stock liquidation plan, established months in advance."
"That's good," Michael nodded. "10b5-1 plans are specifically designed to prevent insider trading allegations. The SEC knows this."
"They're claiming the plan itself was established with foreknowledge of potential issues," Sophia replied. "That Daniel created it as a cover."
Michael frowned. This was more serious than he'd initially thought. The SEC rarely pursued cases against high-profile executives without substantial evidence.
"Have they issued subpoenas yet?" he asked.
Daniel shook his head. "Just the target letter. But our sources say they're coming."
"Sources?"
"We have friends at the Commission," Katherine explained. "They've indicated this investigation has unusual momentum. Someone high up wants results."
Michael turned to Daniel. "Who have you pissed off recently?"
"No one. At least, no one with that kind of influence." Daniel hesitated. "Though there was that Senate testimony last month about quantum encryption and national security."
"Where you suggested that government backdoors were both technically flawed and constitutionally questionable," Sophia added. "Senator Harrington was not pleased."
"Harrington sits on the Banking Committee," James noted. "Which oversees the SEC."
Michael made a mental note to review the testimony. Political motivations could be leveraged in their defense strategy.
"What else should I know?" he asked.
Daniel and Sophia exchanged glances.
"There's a whistleblower," Sophia said finally. "Someone inside QuantumSphere is working with the SEC."
"Do we know who?"
"Not yet. But we're narrowing it down."
Michael nodded, his mind already cataloging potential strategies. "I'll need everything—emails, meeting minutes, development timelines for the Q7, all communications about the delay, and complete records of Daniel's stock transactions for the past two years."
"Already compiled," Sophia said, sliding a flash drive across the table. "Along with the company's securities filings and Daniel's 10b5-1 plan documentation."
Michael pocketed the drive. "And I'll need unrestricted access to QuantumSphere employees, including senior management."
"Of course," Daniel agreed quickly.
"Not so fast," Sophia cautioned. "We need to be strategic about internal communications. The last thing we want is to create more whistleblowers by signaling panic."
"Ms. Chen is right," Katherine said. "This needs to be handled delicately. The SEC investigation alone has already affected QuantumSphere's stock price. If word gets out that we're conducting aggressive internal interviews, it could trigger further decline."
"I don't need to be aggressive," Michael replied. "Just thorough. And discreet."
James Wakefield leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "There's another matter to consider. The firm represents QuantumSphere in various capacities. If there's any suggestion of corporate wrongdoing, we may face a conflict of interest in representing both the company and Mr. Chen personally."
"I want Michael," Daniel said firmly. "If there's a conflict, I'll find separate counsel for the company."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Katherine interjected smoothly. "For now, we can represent both with appropriate ethical walls. If circumstances change, we'll reevaluate."
She turned to Michael. "I'm assigning Abigail Parker to assist you. She clerked for Judge Ramirez at the SEC before joining us. Her insight will be valuable."
Michael nodded, though he preferred working alone. Abigail was sharp—perhaps too sharp. She asked questions he wasn't always prepared to answer.
"We'll also need to prepare for civil litigation," Katherine continued. "Once news of the SEC investigation becomes public, shareholder lawsuits are inevitable."
"One crisis at a time," Michael said. "Let's focus on keeping Daniel out of handcuffs first."
Daniel paled slightly at the word "handcuffs."
"That won't happen," Michael assured him. "The SEC prefers to settle. Criminal referrals to the Justice Department are rare, especially for first-time offenses."
"But not unprecedented," James noted dryly.
"Thank you for that helpful reminder, James," Michael replied with a tight smile. He turned back to Daniel. "Don't worry. This is what I do."
Katherine stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Michael, I expect daily updates. Daniel, we'll need you to maintain absolute discretion. No public statements, no unusual business decisions, nothing that could be perceived as reaction to the investigation."
"Understood," Daniel nodded.
As the others filed out, Michael held Daniel back. "We need to talk. Privately."
Once they were alone, Michael closed the conference room door and turned to his old friend. "Now tell me what you didn't say in front of them."
Daniel blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I've known you since we were nineteen, Daniel. You're a terrible liar. There's something you're not telling me."
Daniel sank into a chair, suddenly looking exhausted. "It's not what you think. I didn't insider trade."
"But?"
"But... I did know about potential issues with the Q7 before I sold that stock." He held up a hand as Michael started to speak. "Not the specific delay we announced. Nothing definitive. Just... concerns from the engineering team. Concerns that might or might not have materialized."
Michael felt a familiar sinking sensation. Clients rarely told the whole truth at first. "Define 'concerns.'"
"Heat dissipation problems in the quantum core. Our lead engineer, Aisha Nair, flagged it in an email three days before my scheduled stock sale. But her email said they were 'exploring solutions' and it 'might impact the timeline.' Nothing concrete."
"Did you consider postponing the stock sale after receiving this information?"
Daniel looked away. "It crossed my mind. But the sale was automatic, and stopping it would have required active intervention. I told myself that was more suspicious than letting it proceed as planned."
"You told yourself what you wanted to hear," Michael corrected. "This email is problematic, Daniel. The SEC will argue it constituted material non-public information that you should have disclosed before selling."
"But it wasn't definitive! We announce the delay two weeks later because the engineering team couldn't solve the problem. I didn't know that would happen when I sold."
"The standard isn't certainty. It's materiality. Would a reasonable investor consider this information important in making an investment decision? A jury could easily say yes."
Daniel ran his hands over his face. "So I'm screwed."
"I didn't say that." Michael paced the length of the conference room. "Who else received this email?"
"Aisha sent it to me and the CTO, Wei Zhang. That's it."
"And what did you do after receiving it?"
"Nothing. I didn't even reply. I was in back-to-back meetings all day."
Michael nodded slowly. "That could work in our favor. We argue you didn't fully process the information's significance before the automatic sale executed."
"Is that enough?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." Michael stopped pacing. "Is there anything else I should know? Anything at all?"
Daniel hesitated just long enough to concern Michael.
"Daniel..."
"There might be something else, but it's not directly related to the stock sale." He lowered his voice. "We've been having issues with our quantum encryption protocols. Potential vulnerabilities that could affect national security applications."
"The ones you testified about to the Senate?"
"Yes, but what I didn't tell the Senate is that we discovered these vulnerabilities months ago and didn't disclose them to our government clients immediately."
Michael closed his eyes briefly. "Please tell me you've disclosed them now."
"We're working on a patch. Once it's ready, we'll notify everyone."
"That's not how this works, Daniel. If you've sold compromised security systems to the government—"
"They're not compromised," Daniel insisted. "The vulnerability is theoretical. It would take a quantum computer more advanced than any that currently exists to exploit it."
"Except you're building more advanced quantum computers every day. That's literally your business model."
Daniel had the grace to look uncomfortable. "We're handling it."
"The SEC investigation just got a lot more complicated," Michael said. "If they discover this during their probe—"
"They won't. It's compartmentalized. Only five people know."
"Whistleblowers have a way of knowing things they shouldn't." Michael sighed. "This stays between us for now. But if it becomes relevant to your defense, I'll need to disclose it to Katherine."
Daniel nodded reluctantly.
"One more thing," Michael said. "Who at QuantumSphere might have reason to become a whistleblower? Anyone disgruntled, passed over for promotion, recently disciplined?"
"We're a tech company in Silicon Valley. Half our employees think they should be running the place." Daniel considered the question more seriously. "Wei Zhang—our CTO—was against taking the company public. He thought it would compromise our research focus. And Aisha Nair was upset when we prioritized the commercial processor over her quantum memory project."
"I'll need to talk to both of them. Discreetly."
"Sophia won't like that."
"Sophia works for you, not the other way around." Michael checked his watch. "I have to review these materials tonight. We'll talk tomorrow."
As they walked toward the elevator, Daniel asked, "What are my chances, Michael? Honestly."
Michael considered sugarcoating his answer, then decided against it. Daniel deserved the truth. "If all they have is the timing of the stock sale and that email, we can create reasonable doubt. But SEC investigations have a way of uncovering things no one expected. Including the investigators."
"That's not very reassuring."
"It's not meant to be. It's meant to prepare you." The elevator arrived, and Michael held the door. "From now on, every email you send, every call you make, every meeting you take—assume the SEC will see it, hear it, or know about it. Live your life accordingly."
Daniel stepped into the elevator, his expression grim. "What about QuantumSphere? The company is everything to me."
"One step at a time. First, we keep you out of prison. Then we save your company." Michael offered a confident smile he didn't entirely feel. "Trust me, Daniel. I haven't lost yet."
As the elevator doors closed, Michael's smile faded. He hadn't lost yet, but he'd never defended someone he cared about personally. It changed the equation in ways he wasn't entirely comfortable with.
He headed back to his office, a corner space with floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of the city and the distant mountains beyond. The walls were adorned with framed newspaper articles about his biggest victories and photographs of Michael with various celebrities and politicians—the visual resume of a man who had arrived.
Abigail Parker was waiting for him, a stack of folders in her arms. At twenty-eight, she was one of the firm's rising stars—brilliant, driven, and refreshingly direct. Her working-class background made her an anomaly at Wakefield & Lowell, but her Harvard Law degree and federal clerkship had opened the door. Her talent had done the rest.
"I've pulled everything we have on recent SEC enforcement actions against tech executives," she said without preamble. "Plus the last five years of insider trading settlements involving 10b5-1 plans."
"Efficient as always, Abigail." Michael gestured for her to take a seat. "Katherine tells me you're joining me on the Chen case."
"If that works for you." Her tone suggested his opinion was welcome but not required.
"It does. Your SEC background will be valuable." He studied her for a moment. "What's your read on Daniel Chen? First impression."
"Brilliant but naive. He built a quantum computing empire but doesn't fully grasp the regulatory environment he's operating in." She set the folders on his desk. "Also, he's hiding something."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
"Body language during the meeting. He kept touching his wedding ring when discussing the stock sale—a self-soothing tell. And he glanced at his counsel before answering certain questions, seeking validation."
"Maybe he's just nervous. SEC investigations tend to have that effect."
"Maybe." She didn't sound convinced. "There's something else you should know. Derek Wilson asked to be assigned to this case."
Michael frowned. Derek was an ambitious senior associate with a barely concealed desire to see Michael fail. "What's his interest in quantum computing?"
"I doubt it's the technology that interests him. More likely the visibility. The Chen case will make headlines."
"And Derek never met a headline he didn't want to be in." Michael shook his head. "Katherine said no, I assume?"
"She did. But he's close with James Wakefield. Don't be surprised if he finds a way to involve himself."
"Let him try." Michael leaned back in his chair. "I need you to do something for me, off the books. Find out everything you can about Senator Harrington's connections to the SEC. Specifically, any communication regarding QuantumSphere or Daniel Chen."
Abigail's expression remained neutral, but her eyes sharpened with interest. "You think this is politically motivated?"
"I think it's worth exploring all possibilities." He didn't mention Daniel's Senate testimony. The fewer people who knew about that angle, the better.
"I'll see what I can do. Discreetly." She stood to leave, then paused. "One more thing. The firm is hosting a charity gala tomorrow night. Katherine expects all senior associates and partners to attend."
Michael groaned. "I forgot about that."
"I assumed as much, which is why I took the liberty of confirming your attendance and ensuring your tuxedo was delivered to your apartment."
"That's... disturbingly efficient, Abigail."
"Just doing my job, Mr. Sinclair." She offered a rare smile. "The gala benefits the Children's Hospital. Several SEC commissioners will be there, including Director Callahan."
Michael's interest piqued. "Callahan himself?"
"His wife is on the hospital board. It might be a good opportunity to take the temperature of the Commission. Informally, of course."
"Of course." Michael nodded appreciatively. "Good thinking."
After Abigail left, Michael turned to the window, watching the sun set over Los Angeles. The city was transforming, lights flickering on across the sprawling urban landscape, each one representing lives and stories he would never know.
His phone buzzed with a text from Victoria Stone: *Heard about the Chen case. Careful, Michael. SEC has been coordinating with DOJ on recent referrals. This could get criminal fast.*
He smiled slightly. Even after everything, Victoria still looked out for him in her way. He typed back: *Concerned about me, Counselor? I'm touched.*
Her reply came quickly: *Concerned about justice. Chen's company has government contracts. National security implications raise the stakes.*
Michael frowned. How did Victoria know about QuantumSphere's government contracts? That wasn't public information. He was about to ask when another text came through:
*Dinner offer still stands. Vincenti's. 9pm. I might know things that could help.*
He hesitated. Dinner with Victoria was always complicated—personally and professionally. But if she had information about the SEC investigation...
*I'll be there,* he replied.
Michael set his phone down and turned to the stack of folders Abigail had left. The flash drive from Sophia Chen sat beside them, containing the digital record of Daniel's potentially career-ending decisions.
He had work to do before dinner. Daniel Chen was more than a client—he was a friend. And Michael Sinclair protected his friends, even when they didn't tell him the whole truth.
Especially then.