The morning was scratching at the tops of the skyscrapers when Sophie stepped out of her rideshare car in front of a building of black granite and polished glass rising in the heart of Fifth Avenue. The doorman greeted her with automatic politeness.
She crossed the marble lobby, where a grand piano displayed fresh flowers and executives glided by in silence, absorbed in their own secrets, beneath chandeliers suspended from the ceiling.
The elevator took Sophie up to the twenty-second floor, each level more expensive, farther away from the common world below, where mere mortals like her lived out their ordinary problems.
Attorney Sean Duvall's office was minimalist, spacious, flooded with the warm light of a New York summer. The furniture, all straight lines and glossy surfaces, contrasted with the classical opulence of the building's facade. The aroma of expensive coffee mingled with the nearly imperceptible scent of new leather. Behind a wide desk, Sean waited, leaning over papers stacked in perfect piles, as controlled as the environment itself.
Sean Duvall was thirty-eight, but his face was that of someone who had never allowed himself to tire. His dark hair fell meticulously over his forehead, the thin-rimmed glasses lending him an air of a European intellectual. He glanced up from his wristwatch, regarding Sophie with the calm of someone who weighs every word before speaking.
Alex Grant was already there, seated in a leather armchair, legs crossed, wearing an impeccable suit, his eyes feverish with anxiety and expectation. He stood and greeted Sophie with a brief gesture, but there was genuine happiness in seeing her. She offered an awkward smile in return, though she found herself paying too much attention to the way he filled out that tuxedo.
Sean gestured to the chair in front of the desk.
"Miss Carter, I'm glad you were able to come to my office," he welcomed her, his tone more professional than warm. "I'm Sean Duvall, Mr. Grant's attorney. To not take too much of your time, I'd like to be objective so everything is resolved clearly and as quickly as possible."
Sophie nodded, adjusting her bag in her lap, trying to hide her nerves.
Sean glanced over the papers in front of him.
"Our goal here is to ensure that your 'paternity' relationship with Mr. Grant is legally irrefutable. We work, of course, with a few… system conveniences," he smiled, without warmth. "I've already prepared the paperwork to alter records, issue new certificates, and produce medical reports compatible with an alleged biological paternity. Nothing we haven't done before, in less sophisticated situations, if you'll permit me to confess."
Alex interjected, his voice low and urgent, before Sean could confess too much to Sophie.
"You don't have to worry, Sophie, Sean is the best attorney in New York for this kind of contract. There won't be any loopholes for contestation, not even from Veronica."
Sean continued, folding his hands over the documents.
"The trickiest part will be manipulating the hospital database where the supposed late adoption will be registered. We'll use an emergency protocol: a falsified birth certificate, the digital signature of a now-deceased physician, a retroactive date. It needs to look like an old case, not a recent one. And of course, the records will only be audited if someone in the family requests it, but…" he threw Alex a sidelong glance, "I have good contacts in the compliance department."
Sophie stared at the lawyer, trying to decipher what lay behind that elegant rationality.
"And what if Veronica suspects something? What if she tries to contest… or if my history shows up somewhere?"
Sean gave a brief, cool smile.
"Veronica can suspect whatever she wants. She'll only find the official versions, and if she tries to dig deeper, I'll be more than happy to make things difficult for her. After all, some people… deserve to learn the value of silence," Sean declared, not bothering to hide a hint of bitterness in his voice.
Alex stifled a bitter laugh and tried to reassure her:
"He's right, now you just have to trust that everything will work out."
Sean went on, unruffled:
"It will also be necessary to create a consistent backstory: where you met, how the supposed abandonment and reunion happened, the decision to claim the 'lost' daughter. Every detail could be important. I suggest we coordinate our versions and rehearse answers for possible questions, especially from journalists, from Veronica, from Alex's other child, or anyone else."
For a moment, the silence among the three was as thick as the air in a sealed chamber. Sophie felt the weight of every lie being written, line by line, on the official contract pages within her reach.
Alex, noticing her hesitation, got up and approached her, touching her shoulder lightly to instill confidence.
"Sophie, you don't have to decide everything right now. You're doing this for your son," Alex emphasized. "No one here is going to judge you. In fact, given the circumstances, you're the least questionable person in this office."
Sean took an elegant pen and handed it to Sophie.
"If you're ready, all you have to do is sign. From this point on, your story becomes official."
Sophie looked at the pen, then at Alex and Sean. There, in that elegant office, she realized there was no turning back. When the pen touched the paper, a new identity was born; made of documents, secrets, and a silent pact for survival.