The man who stepped into Alister Crane's office had presence.
Not in the showy, boardroom-alpha kind of way. No overcompensating bravado, no ego bursting at the seams. Instead, he moved with the confidence of someone who knew where all the power resided—and understood how to use it quietly.
He wore a deep navy suit with a charcoal overcoat slung across his arm. Dark, silver-streaked hair, neatly styled. Shoes, polished to perfection. A Tag Heuer timepiece peeked from his shirt cuff.
But it was the eyes that caught Alister's attention—sharp, observant, the kind of eyes that didn't just read people but measured them.
"Mr. Crane?" the man asked.
Alister rose, extending his hand. "That's me. And you are?"
The handshake was firm.
"My name is Philip Langford. I represent Redwell Biogenics."
Alister's brow lifted. That name wasn't just familiar—it was front-page material.
Redwell Biogenics was a biotech company headquartered in Boston but with heavy private equity investments and growing political attention. For the past year, they'd been in and out of the news for patent disputes, clinical controversies, and some aggressive acquisitions.
"You're a long way from Massachusetts," Alister said, motioning to the seat across from his desk.
Langford sat down with measured ease. "I'm in town because we have a situation. One that needs… discretion, precision, and legal teeth."
Alister took his own seat, reaching for a legal pad. "What kind of situation?"
Langford opened his briefcase. "This is confidential. I'd like to retain your firm with a temporary retainer for now. If we proceed past consultation, we'll discuss full engagement."
Alister gave a slow nod. "Standard NDA will do for now. My firm's confidentiality policy is airtight."
Langford slid over a thin folder.
Alister flipped it open.
Inside were three documents: a cease-and-desist letter issued to Redwell by a plaintiff's law firm, a complaint filed in civil court, and an internal whistleblower report.
Alister read them silently for a full minute. Then another.
When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable.
"This isn't just a situation," he said calmly. "This is a litigation storm wrapped in regulatory oversight, media exposure, and probable federal investigation."
Langford didn't blink. "Yes. And it's going to get worse."
The Case
The plaintiff—Dr. Anais Mercer, a former senior biochemist at Redwell—was alleging that Redwell knowingly moved forward with a clinical trial for a neurological drug (codename: RX-51) despite internal reports highlighting serious side effects.
These side effects, according to the complaint, included neurovascular degradation in 9.6% of animal trial subjects and a fatality rate above 2% in Phase 1 human trials.
The whistleblower file—heavily redacted—claimed executive suppression of internal reports, forged data entries, and pressure placed on the IRB (Institutional Review Board) to accelerate FDA conditional approval.
Alister flipped to the cease-and-desist. The firm representing Mercer was Halstrom & Bright, a litigation firm known for class-action suits and media blitzes.
"You're about to be dragged into the public sphere," Alister said. "If this reaches discovery, especially under whistleblower protection, you're looking at preemptive investigation from the FDA, SEC, and DOJ. Possibly a qui tam action under the False Claims Act."
Langford didn't dispute it. "Which is why we need someone aggressive. Our house counsel has been instructed to step back from the lead."
Alister frowned. "That's unusual."
Langford gave a tight smile. "Our house counsel is… risk-averse. The board is not."
Alister leaned back, processing. "Why me?"
"You're unaffiliated with the usual old boys' firms. You're sharp, relentless, and… independent. You've tried some criminal defense, which we may need soon. And more importantly, you're hungry."
The room went still.
Langford folded his hands. "You built your firm from scratch. We did our research. You've handled complex civil litigation and some white-collar cases in your last firm. You don't shy from heat. But you also don't crave headlines. You want to win."
Alister didn't deny it.
He flipped the pages again, reading deeper into the complaint. There were red flags everywhere—jurisdiction challenges, corporate shell structuring, ghost signatures.
And beneath it all… fire.
This was the kind of case that launched or destroyed firms.
Exactly the kind of opportunity he'd prayed for.
And the kind that came with consequences.
Due Diligence
"Before I consider engagement," Alister said, "I need full disclosure. I'll require access to internal communications regarding RX-51, minutes from board meetings related to R&D timelines, and anything related to Mercer's termination."
Langford nodded. "You'll have access to a secure portal. We've already prepared the compliance packets."
Alister gave a low whistle. "You came prepared."
"We're not amateurs," Langford said. "And we're not innocent, either."
Alister tilted his head. "That's rare honesty."
"I'm not asking you to save our soul," Langford replied. "I'm asking you to protect our interests."
There it was. No pretense.
Alister respected that.
Langford stood and straightened his jacket. "We'll send over the initial retainer and portal access. If you choose to proceed, we go public with you as lead counsel next week."
"Understood."
Langford paused before heading to the door.
"This will get ugly," he said.
Alister stood too. "So will I."
Langford smiled. "That's what we're counting on."
The door clicked shut behind him.
The Weighing of Risks
Alister stood in the quiet that followed, staring at the folder still open on his desk.
This was it.
The case.
The one he'd been waiting for.
But it came with teeth.
If he won it—or even navigated it successfully—he'd secure elite clientele for the rest of his career. He'd be cemented as a closer, a strategist, a top-tier litigator.
But if he fumbled? If the company went down in flames and he was caught holding the torch?
It could scorch his reputation before it truly took off.
The risks weren't just legal. They were ethical. Did Redwell suppress data? Were lives lost? Was he about to protect the guilty?
Or, was he ensuring that a corporation received fair due process in the face of sensationalist tactics and a media-hungry legal team?
It depended on the facts.
And Alister Crane didn't fear facts.
He reached for his intercom.
"Marcy," he said, "hold my calls. I'm going to need a few hours."
By late afternoon, Alister was deep in review.
He accessed the client portal and scoured through the documents: internal emails, early drafts of trial reports, executive memos, even Slack logs between researchers.
There were patterns.
Inconsistencies.
Anomalies that could be explained—but also exploited.
He annotated, highlighted, and cross-referenced. The core legal questions began forming:
Did Redwell knowingly submit false data to the FDA?
Did they retaliate against Mercer for internal objections?
Were trial protocols altered without full re-consent?
Is the current market valuation based on potentially fraudulent claims?
Each answer shaped the legal strategy.
He'd need to prepare for:
A motion to dismiss, leveraging preemption under federal regulation.
Possible summary judgment later, based on insufficient material evidence of intent.
A parallel internal investigation to prepare for discovery.
Communications strategy—how and when to control the narrative.
By evening, his whiteboard was a jungle of arrows, timelines, names.
He barely noticed the sun dipping below the skyline.
Around 8:00 p.m., Marcus called.
"Hey," his brother's voice said, "You alive?"
"Barely. You still think I'm crazy for going solo?"
"Nah. I think you're certifiable. Which, for a Crane, is on brand."
Alister chuckled. "I think I just got my golden ticket."
"Oh?"
"A multi-million-dollar biotech litigation. Corporate defense. Real-time regulatory firestorm."
Marcus whistled. "Damn. So… you taking it?"
There was a pause.
Alister looked at the folder again.
The fire inside him didn't feel like ego.
It felt like destiny.
"I'm going to review through the night. But yeah… I think I am."
"Then buckle up," Marcus said. "Because this is what you were built for."
Alister smiled faintly.
For the first time in years, he felt like he wasn't chasing something—he was something.
Not someone's lover. Not someone's safety net.
A man with a purpose. With a mission.
His own.
He stepped onto his balcony just past midnight, the city lights shimmering like stars fallen to Earth.
The wind whispered around him.
No ghosts haunted him tonight.
No pain lingered behind his ribs.
Just that humming certainty.
That feeling you get right before a fight you know you can win.
He pulled out his phone and opened his Notes app.
At the top, a list titled:
"What This Firm Stands For"
Excellence
Strategy
Integrity
Fearlessness
He added one more.
Legacy.
The folder sat on his desk behind him.
And beyond that desk, a city full of storms.
But Alister Crane had found his lightning.
And tomorrow?
He'd strike.